Canibalism As A Metaphor For Love - Blog Posts
occasionally I remember that I (age 9/10) was in love with Eyeless Jack and I was SURE I was going to be a serial killer(yes, an 10 years old thougt that) and we would meet in an abandoned building, where I would give him a bowl of kidneys, and he would fall in love with me.
Dante and Virgil in Hell, William Adolphe Bouguereau (1850)
Excerpt from prologue :
Death does not knock. She comes unannounced, barging in brutally and leaving behind an inert body. Adanna never expected death to leave behind her father’s corpse, sprawling in the middle of their great chamber, letting his putrid scent spread through their little household. No blood and no disease — just gone. This is what alcohol did to a man — or so the old lady living on the street used to say. How could Adanna have known she was right ? No one ever listens to the blather of the seniles.
A deceased man could not speak anymore, could not lie, nor drink, nor hit. The only thing her father could do was lie there on the ground with vacant eyes, facing the ceiling, his mouth partially open, emanating a breath that held no warmth. The overwhelming smell lingered in every corner, clinging to her hair and the dying plants. There was only one reason why she hadn’t gotten rid of the body sooner : a need, sharp and gnawing, was driving her mad.
Rotting flesh is bitter, Adanna realised— far too late, after a few days.
Kneeling in the mud, retching the sour tang of decay still clinging to her tongue, she cursed the moment her teeth had sunk into cold flesh, driven by an odd curiosity, urging and impossible to justify. Patience always made for finer meat— or so she thought. But, Death was imminent and thus it demanded immediate consumption.
Thought ?