Trent's Meal
Over and over again that little girl on the trike would go up and down the streets, without any reason or parental supervision.
A move that her parents would live to regret.
For one day the little girl on the trike didn't come back home in time for dinner.
There were frantic calls, searches, posses, posters, a media frenzy, a brief blip in the national media about the little girl on the trike who went missing.
And then...
Nothing.
She was never seen again.
Her parents mourned and moved away.
The people of Lawndale chose to collectively forget the little girl rather than grieve forever.
And so, as the posters were torn down she faded away forever.
She was nothing.
But... What happened to her?
Well...
Moesha's face was twisted in terror, frozen by rigor mortise.
And covered in batter.
"God this is going to hit the spot!" Nick cackled, his eyes blazing red, a ring on his finger flashing in the crackling light of the makeshift fire pit out in the woods.
"Yeah!" Jesse exclaimed, except this time with a mad gleam.
Trent licked his chops as he and Max shoved a giant skewer through the dead meat.
"This is going to be great!" Mac said with a lusty grin.
"I know!" Trent replied merrily as they set up their meal and began to turn it, Nick was preparing the butter and was going to paint it on the meat liberally during the cook time.
As he turned the spit, Trent held up his hand to admire his Ring of Namira on his hand.
He didn't need to look to see that his band mates all had matching rings on their hands as well.
"We thank you, oh Daedra of Filth and Decay for the meal that we are about to consume." Trent prayed quietly, even as he thought of how much of a struggle it had been not to start laughing like a loon as he made sweet-false promises to the little girl to get her into the back of Max's van.
But one there it had just taken a quick blow to the head to keep her quiet as Max sped away.
Once in the woods and in front of their statue of Namira, the little girl had fallen under the sway of the entity of Oblivion and had quietly laid down and received the knife that Trent had shoved into her heart with a smile.
"Uh, Nick?" Max spoke up, breaking up Trent's thoughts, "You missed a spot."
"No I didn't!" Nick snapped back.
Max began to glare.
Trent grunted, "Guys, guys! We are in the Presence. No fighting!"
"Sorry." They both said by way of apology.
As the little girl cooked away, Trent wished that Janie was here with him to share in this meal.
"You know the rules," Trent reminded himself, "You feed the little ones human flesh when memory is vague and then you stop and wait to see if the Daedra of Decay will call out to them later in life."
He just wished that Janie had gotten the call already, cus this meal was already showing signs of being great.
And so it proved to be one of the best, so much so that they ate every bite and saved the bones for Jane's art supplies.
They just lied about where they came from, and didn't mention the addition of a small trike to the pile of junk that cluttered Casa Lane.
No one ever noticed it, or realized it's significance.
Then again there were lots of things in the house just like it.
And many more would join the trike as trophies of the local Lawndale chapter of the Cult of Namira.
Now, want to join them for a quick bite?
MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
FIN
