Jennifer resides in the Midwest with her husband, and three children. She writes both fiction & non-fiction and currently has two projects in progress, in wildly different genres. She’s looking forward to completing a collection of short horror stories which she’s hopeful to release later this year.
For updates about Jennifer’s work please visit her HERE.
DINNER WITH GRACE
by
Jennifer Osborn
Sweat trickled down Rebecca’s forehead in slow lingering lines, pooling at the tip of her nose. She struggled to open her eyes, blinking repeatedly in a vain attempt to adjust her vision to the too bright light beaming down – the midday sun, both aggressive and unforgiving. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky to offer any grace. Grace. Rebecca turned her head, looking for her friend. Summertime meant her and Grace would meet up for their annual girls’ trip, a tradition they had kept for the past fifteen years. This year they had chosen an all-inclusive resort in a tropical location. Rebecca loved the luxurious amenities, and elegant dinners, but Grace had been eager to dig deeper in local culture and cuisine, she wanted to explore off the beaten path.
“Come on Bec, it will be so much more exciting than our typical vacation. Let’s talk to the locals, find out what really goes on around here when the sun goes down,” Grace had winked at her as she threw back a shot of tequila. Rebecca laughed as she tossed back her own shot of liquor, licked the salt off her hand and sucked on a lime.
“Okay, fine. We’ll do it your way tonight,” Rebecca coughed, “but tomorrow I’m sleeping in and laying on the beach all day.”
“Deal.” Grace had smiled, before waving over a sun kissed local.
That had been last night. The last thing Rebecca remembered was following the tan, muscular man deep into the tropical forest by way of a thin foot trail, just beyond the resort’s oceanfront bar. The sun set quickly, and night had enveloped them as they ventured further into the leafy vegetation. Rebecca had no recollection of what happened next.
“Grace?” Rebecca whispered. Disoriented, she awkwardly sat up, leaning on her elbows. She was able to bend at the waist, move her midsection and arms, but her legs were immobile, pinned down by something she wasn’t yet able to see. Rebecca noted that she was laying on the beach, toes pointed up to the sunny, cloudless blue sky. A large mound of sand stretched across both of her ankles. She tried to wiggle her legs to move the sand but realized immediately that her ankles wouldn’t budge. Her heart began to pound, the heat of the day making her feel lightheaded and nauseous. Leaning forward Rebecca brushed the sand off her legs only to find thick metal cuffs clamped tightly on both ankles, staked deeply into the ground.
Before she could scream, she noticed an old woman staring at her from a few yards away. The woman’s skin was tan and wrinkled, leathery from a lifetime spent under the island’s harsh sun. The woman met her gaze only a moment longer before returning to work. From what Rebecca could see, the woman appeared to be setting a table. The table, carved from one solid piece of wood, stretched nearly twelve feet long. Large palm leaves lined the center and pink hibiscus flowers adorned the top. If she weren’t staked to the sand, she might have thought it a beautiful setting. The woman glanced at her once more before scurrying away, disappearing into the forest.
Salty tears ran down Rebecca’s face as she pulled vigorously on the metal clamps, neither of them budged. The sand, scorching hot from the summer sun, burned her hands and legs now. She shifted to try and get some relief but suffered more burns with each movement.
In the distance Rebecca heard voices, they were coming closer. It sounded like they were singing, celebrating, from somewhere beyond the treesline. Rebecca could hear branches snapping and leaves brushing against one another as they drew near, until finally a group of no less than twenty locals emerged. Men, women, and children were smiling and chanting as four of their strongest carried something large towards the table. Rebecca strained to see what it was.
“Today, we FEAST!” she heard one of the men yell, raising both hands towards the sun. The group cheered.
As they carefully slid the meaty object onto the table Rebecca finally got a better look. Grace. Her beautiful best friend lay naked on the table, her skin toasted and crisp as though she had been cooked over an open flame all morning. She wore a crown of white flowers and her jaw hung open too wide, a bright mango wedged in her mouth. Grace was the main course.
A guttural scream escaped Rebecca then, alerting the locals to her presence. Their singing stopped as all eyes fixed on her. A tall man stepped forward then, jogging towards her. He knelt down in the sand beside her, considering her before speaking. He looked familiar. At first Rebecca couldn’t place him but then she realized he was the local they had followed into the forest last night. He acknowledged her recognition of him with a smile.
“Your friend wanted to experience local culture and cuisine. Now we feast. She will be delicious, no?” He smiled, pleased with himself.
Rebecca screamed again so loudly that the locals became concerned, exchanging fearful glances. The man’s smile fell, and rage came over him. Grabbing a handful of sand, he backhanded Rebecca, shoving the sand into her mouth once she collapsed. He continued to fill her mouth with sand until she began to choke, the sand sinking deeper in her throat with each sputtering cough.
The golden sunlight shimmered in the tears that stained Rebecca’s face, the sweet summer day fading to black. In her final moment Rebecca saw the locals gathering around the table, ready to carve and serve the main course. Her final dinner with Grace.