Tasty Fruit

• Brody Skilton, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2015

My Mistress was never cruel. She could be strict or harsh at times, but never cruel. I enjoyed working for her and she rewarded me handsomely, giving me delectable morsels to chew on while she ate her dinner. It was one night whilst I was rounding up her dinner when I overheard a conversation in the forest, a conversation of interesting subject. I tied the ingredients to a tree so they wouldn't run home, and bound their mouths with cloth so they would not squeak and alert the conversationalists within my hearing. The conversation went as such:
"Do not let her beauty cloud thy judgement for thou would surely leave thy family for the pleasure of one night's company, and wouldnst ever return. Just look at that fool Tomson."
How dare they speak of mine mistress in such manner! She is no lowly seductress in need of a good burning! She is kind, and the cages filled with rotting corpses that hang from the ceiling are not her past servants, but people who ran out of uses. She comforted mine conscience with this information. I lost many a night’s sleep staring above at what could have been the predecessors of mine position.
A man with like-minded opinion of my Mistress replied with such a string of filth that I covered the ears of dinner so they would not become corrupted by such foul language.
"Thy presence is known to us, servant to the dark,” the man said slowly after pausing. The silence of my footsteps had disturbed the leaves at my feet. A cry of anguish escaped my lips.
"What would thou do with me? Good sirs. Mine life is forfeit to my Mistress, your awareness of mine appearance will render me useless to run her errands in town," I whispered walking out from the shadows.
"And by errands, you mean rounding up our children and pushing them down her throat!" The taller one shouted running at me. I grinned pulling the knife out of its sheathe. The man didn't see it and launched himself at me. We both collapsed to the ground in a tangled mass of limbs. He struggled for a little bit, the knife having missed his vital organs. But my bite to his throat silenced his squalls. Juice ran down my chin and I eagerly licked it up before it dripped out of reach of my tongue.
I rolled the man off me and stumbled over to the younger man who looked at me in horror. How dare he look upon me with such disgust? Anger boiled inside my stomach, but I supressed it when I realised that this was because he just hadn't tasted the sweet fruit yet. He stood frozen in terror and I took advantage of it before he recovered the senses that had so obviously run away when he should have. My hand shot out and I gripped his throat tightly. He clawed at my arm and wrist but I didn't let go. He would understand once he felt the juice run down his throat, the seeds that grew in the fruit’s mouth rolling under his tongue. I dragged him over to his friend and cut off the pesky in-edible outer layer, revealing the soft skin beneath. My long thick nails dug deep into it and beads of blood blossomed in the path I carved. The juice pooled in my hand and I shoved it down the squirming man's throat.
"Thou eternal thirst is quenched," I whispered in his ear.