Microfiction: The Other White Meat


The story contained below is the darkest, most morbid thing I have ever written. If you’re at all squeamish, or easily disturbed, do not read this story. Go somewhere else! There are tons of other articles out there. Go look at one of those.

You were warned…

The Other White Meat

As the blood of his youngest-born child lapped at the edge of the pot, he wondered if he had made the right choice. Certainly the smell was worth the effort; the taste was to be extraordinary. He could already feel his mouth water with the anticipation of soft flesh and easily snapped bone. The others would play with the femur like a bat, and he loved watching his children play.

A flicker of guilt ran through his brain, twisting his muscles in some paltry attempt to pull him back; but a single look at the huge walls around him sent it screaming into the recesses of his shattered mind. It seemed that when he took the first swallow of human flesh, he had taken his humanity down to the acid as well. It had been exactly two weeks since his family decided that this was right, that life was worth becoming a monster over.

He felt no regrets, survival was survival after all. The indecision he felt was not around the choice to consume his child. No, it was whether or not he chose the correct one.

After all, his daughter had some seriously plump legs.

Did you like the article? Dislike? Tell me about it in the comments. I would love to hear your opinions! If interested in specific articles, or want to write as a guest, you can message me at scifibrandonscott@gmail.com. Thanks for reading!


4 thoughts on “Microfiction: The Other White Meat

  1. Pingback: Why I Write Dark Things | Coolerbs Reviews
  2. Pingback: Microfiction: Games | Coolerbs Reviews
  3. It took me several readings, a break of a few hours, and yet another reading, to find out exactly why I could not ‘make coherent’ your main character and their kids here.

    And then I realised it.

    Brilliant! The whole reliable/unreliable narrator dynamic was present, yet subtle enough to veil the immediacy of the batpoop crazy insaneness. Then again, maybe it’s only my way of interpreting it and making it coherent. Who knows! I did, definitely, like your choice of picture here. Tasty looking, draws you in, and yet… but the picture… but the story… but the food!!

    If I have one thing I’d like to suggest though, it is replacing the mind in ‘flicker of guilt ran through his mind’ with another phrase/word, since ‘shattered mind’ comes soon after. I’m not sure how you feel about personification of guilt (did I even use the term right? I haven’t taken literature in years. I’ve forgotten terminology), but perhaps a whisper or a flash? You certainly have it ‘screaming’ later on, so it would make for a bit of a bookend!

    I’m also wondering wtf kind of world you were picturing where ‘huge walls’ are a sign of danger. What dystopian hell-hole were you picturing in the recesses of your mind when you wrote this :O Shh, don’t say it. It ruins the horror.

    And finally, many thanks for the link 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    • Why thank you! I always look forward to your analysis of my stories Nemo. They are becoming a bit of an inspiration for me honestly.

      Yeah, the picture was perfect. I started off looking at cannabilism images, but they were all too “on the nose” for what I was going for.

      I agree entirely with your suggestion on the word choice. I can’t believe I missed the repeat. I ended up simply changing the first usage to “brain” instead of “mind” to remove the monotonous vocabulary.

      Hmmm… yes. It’s quite a messed up world I pictured, but, as you requested, I won’t spoil its inner workings. I leave it to your interpretations. In fact, if you so desire, I give you full reign to write about what sort of world you think it is, or set a story within it.

      You are quite welcome on the link! I read your story right when I woke up, and it made me chuckle, so I thought I would share it with my followers (assuming that is, they heeded my warning) .


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