She doesn’t flinch as the counterfeits in white aprons — her co-conspirators — arrange the raw seafood on her skin. Pink and white, tuna and squid, their hands drop the squares in circles, sweeping the meat in spirals over her stomach, her breasts, extending down her legs. The men’s hands shake slightly, but they continue the work. She doesn’t squirm even though the meat is icy on her skin.
Nyotaimori is an art, but the counterfeits have been trained. Like other expensive dishes, this one is best served cold. Five years she has waited.
Her eyes lock on the ceiling as they wheel her across a tiled hallway and through the aluminum doors. In the club room, the voices are brash, too loud, already drunk. When the cart comes to a stop, one of the men mutters something and laughter crawls up the walls. She doesn’t close her eyes, but waits for the probing violation, the jabs and explorations with chopsticks as they begin to eat. Layers peel away, and her skin chills.
She becomes a puzzle broken into pieces with nothing beneath. Naked, but motionless. Hiding. These men cannot know. Her faith keeps her still.
Blood pounds inside her head, and after a few minutes she can no longer hear their voices. She remembers though – she remembers the cold eyes of these men, puppets of the regime wearing the masks of the national guard. She remembers when they took her mother – their voices locked behind stupid, empty grins. Her jaw locks as chopsticks poke and prod bare patches of flesh. Her fingers curl when one set of utensils snap tight on an uncovered nipple. There is laughter, but she doesn’t hear. The men are just shapes moving in the periphery. Shadows. Memories.
Her breath comes in small, measured amounts. In and out. Calm. Even naked, lying on the stainless tray beneath the banquet lights, she will not break. She broke before, five years ago, after they found her mother and the others face down in the sewer ditch near the woods.
She thinks of the chefs bound with tight knots and hidden in the scullery. She knows her co-conspirators have shed their aprons and wait behind the hotel. She knows the poison cannot be absorbed through her skin, only the stomach lining of those giggling pigs, and it will work quickly and quietly. She has faith that her mother’s ghost will be sated and her thirst for revenge, quenched.
Aaron Polson is a high school English teacher and freelance writer. He currently resides in Lawrence, Kansas with his wife, two sons, and a tattooed rabbit. His short fiction has appeared in various places, including Reflection’s Edge, GlassFire Magazine, Big Pulp, Johnny America, and Permuted Press’s Monstrous anthology.You can visit him on the web at www.aaronpolson.com.
This story was sponsored by
Camilla d’Errico: A character designer and artist who dances on the tightrope between pop surrealist art and manga inspired graphics. Explore her paintings, characters and comics: Tanpopo, BURN and Helmetgirls.
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32 Responses to “FAITH • by Aaron Polson”
Comments
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November 7th, 2009 at 3:00 am
There is a typo in the last paragraph – it should read absorbed, not adsorbed. I gave this powerful and angry story a five nonetheless. Look forward to more from you Aaron.
November 7th, 2009 at 3:13 am
Chilling, sad and satisfying. Beautifully written, Aaron. Five out of five.
November 7th, 2009 at 3:22 am
This is outstanding flash. I dips me lid to you Mr Polson. Well done, well done.
November 7th, 2009 at 4:56 am
How does the saying go? Ah, yes. Revenge is a dish best served cold.
Excellent work, Aaron. You got a five from me.
November 7th, 2009 at 5:56 am
Solid flash.
November 7th, 2009 at 6:03 am
I loved this! it was creepy and exciting, I *really* couldn’t wait to see why she was putting the fish on her body And i was defintly not dissastified. I hope her mother feels avenged. Five out of five!
November 7th, 2009 at 6:34 am
It took all the way to the end of the story to figure out what was going on. It seemed like such an unlikely situation, but I’m guessing that somewhere, in some culture, this could happen. Once you accept the premise, it was well done, but there was still the temptation to say “WTF is going on here” and abandon the story without finishing it.
November 7th, 2009 at 6:52 am
5 Stars!
November 7th, 2009 at 7:06 am
One of the best stories we’ve seen here in a long time. I didn’t see the end coming. This one gets a 5 from me.
November 7th, 2009 at 8:01 am
If ‘dips my lid to you’ is a compliment, I second that. great story, and, Cascade, great new line I learned.
November 7th, 2009 at 8:30 am
Well done, Aaron. Loved the ending, very satisfying.
November 7th, 2009 at 8:46 am
Oh my. A five from me. Phew.
November 7th, 2009 at 9:12 am
The story was extremely engaging with excellent pace to a precise ending. I had already assumed poison, figuring she had nowhere to hide a weapon.
In the third paragraph, laughter was also misspelled.
November 7th, 2009 at 9:27 am
My hunger is satisfied with this unique little revenge story and a glimpse at this foreign culture. As usual, a first rate piece of writing, Aaron.
November 7th, 2009 at 10:02 am
Enjoyed thoroughly. Interesting premise. Plot layout spot-on.
November 7th, 2009 at 11:57 am
Classic flash, and a good job indeed. Liked especially the Japanese setting, but EVERYONE should be aware of their penchant for eating dangerously. Thus, the ending was clear from the middle of the story–but no matter. Very well handled story of revenge among the gastronomes.
November 7th, 2009 at 1:34 pm
Chilling and perfectly written! 5 stars.
November 7th, 2009 at 1:43 pm
Nicely done, thanks. A five from me.
November 7th, 2009 at 2:46 pm
Typo corrected; thanks, Rumjhum!
November 7th, 2009 at 3:57 pm
Totally classic, Aaron. Each sentence crafted into a perfect little barb.
And now I want sushi. Hm.
November 7th, 2009 at 4:37 pm
That gave me a chill!
November 7th, 2009 at 5:33 pm
Great job, Aaron! The urgency in the story is well played. Bravo!
November 7th, 2009 at 8:35 pm
Chilling…was she on ice?
November 8th, 2009 at 4:29 am
Mercy. Nyotaimori?
Learn something new every day!
November 8th, 2009 at 2:38 pm
Frightening. Love it. Would make a great movie short.
November 8th, 2009 at 3:57 pm
Very chilling. I loved it.
November 8th, 2009 at 5:43 pm
The practise may have started in Asia but now happens in most western countries around the world in male targeted establishments. With that in mind, and knowing Aaron’s penchant for the unusual, I didn’t suspect the poisoning until it was stated, being well aware of speculative creatures that need no clothing to hide a weapon.
In the end I assumed nothing and was greatly awarded for it.
Excellent story, Aaron.
November 9th, 2009 at 8:22 am
A thought just came to me. Didn’t the Marquis de Sade have a scene in which dinner is served on the torsos of naked women? Don’t believe they were killed for dessert, but the post-prandial “amuse bouches” may have been worse than death.
November 9th, 2009 at 1:35 pm
So eerie! Thanks for the treat.
November 10th, 2009 at 7:13 am
Five stars from me. Completely original and unique. Great job.
November 15th, 2009 at 10:00 pm
That’s a really interesting idea, taking the old “Revenge is a dish best served cold” and actually personifying it and making it literal as well. Good tension and pace make it a satisfying read.
November 16th, 2009 at 7:48 am
Chilling, unique, a pleasure to read.