He ate people. It wasn’t that much of a big deal, really. Some people were vegetarians, others were vegans, but Christopher Mathers, a fifty year old physician at St. Martin’s Hospital was a cannibal. It was that simple. The fact that he ate human flesh did not make him a killer, for her never killed a soul in his entire life; well, except that one time. The man simply had a taste for it, he found it rather exotic, even exciting at times. Feasting upon the flesh of human beings meant a lot more to him than a mere choice of cuisine; no, it certainly meant a whole lot more. To Christopher Mathers, it meant embracing these people’s souls within his own. Devouring this man’s liver, all chopped up with some sweet onions, and some mixed peppers, or sucking the raw juices from that young woman’s spin made him feel like he was adding these people’s lives, their hopes and dreams, their fears and peeves to his being. Whether grilled or fried, even nice and raw, it did not matter to him one bit, so long as he got them in his stomach somehow.
As a child, all grey eyed and quiet, Christopher Mathers never missed a change to suck on his own blood whenever he accidentally cut himself. That iron based taste drove him insane. He lusted for it, even way before he knew what lust meant. His love for that taste was so intense, that he began deliberately cutting himself with a razor blade he stole from his father’s medicine cabinet. He used to press the sharp edge of the blade on his tender skin, and slide it slowly for a little bit. The delicate wound would ooze out that crimson candy he loved so much, and he’d place his small lips on it; running his tongue along the length of the cut.
During his adolescence, he became more interested in the human body. As his mind began to develop and mature, his interests shifted from the taste of blood to the taste of human flesh. He often wondered what would different people taste like, and the effects of different lifestyles on the taste of different people’s meat products. The mere thought of biting into a woman’s raw thigh excited him; it excited him so much that he’d fantasize about it all the time. During his college days, he made that fantasy come true.
He was twenty-five years old at the time, studying for his medical degree. Mathers did not fancy staying in the school’s dormitory because he liked his privacy, so instead, he had his own small apartment close to campus. His urges to try human meat reached its ultimate peak at the time, and he just had to do it. It was his girlfriend whom he ate, Sarah or Vera, something like that. She was at his place, Sarah or Vera, or maybe Salma, and he’d put a little something in her drink; he didn’t want to make a fuss out of it. When she blacked out, he carried her and placed her on his bed, which was covered in plastic. He stripped off all his cloths, and lay next to her. Chris felt her tender skin with his fingertips, he ran them all over her body, feeling himself getting more aroused. He spread her legs, and sat between them holding his scalpel. The moment that sharp scalpel touched the girl’s skin, thick red blood ran down her thigh, and onto the plastic cover. He placed his lips on the wound. The taste was so utterly euphoric that he could not help himself, Christopher Mathers bit down, and tore a chunk of skin and meat out of his girlfriend’s thigh. Tears formed in his eyes as he swallowed, but his joy did not last for long. His girlfriend awoke in sheer shock. The blood gushed out of her thigh as she began to scream, however, this did not last for long. Mathers found himself on top of her, with his scalpel buried deep into her heart, and that was that. This meal lasted for about a month. He enjoyed it so very much. He did not enjoy the murder though. Chris did not want to kill people, he just wanted to eat them.
All these years later, Christopher Mathers stood next to his station wagon that was parked on the side of a rural road off highway 57 just outside of Creekwell City. Dr. Mathers waited. He looked at his watch, and waited some more. He waited until that distant roaring sound reached his ears. That deep rumbling sound made his heart flutter like no other sound in the would. Before long, he saw them. Three large motorcycles, and a large black pickup truck were coming his way. Mathers took off his glasses, and squinted his eyes until he could see that large design of a grim-reaper holding the words ‘Death Watch’ between its skeletal hands. The riders stopped a little way behind Christopher’s car, and dismounted their bikes. One of them walked to Mathers, the leader of the pack who was dressed in black, just like the others.
“Evenin’, Doctor.” He said.
“Good evening,” Mathers replied “What do you have for me.”
The rider took off the black bandana covering his mouth, and stuck it in his jacket’s inner pocket. He produced a cigarette pack, took one, and offered the doctor another. Mathers waved the pack away.
“We have two bodies,” The rider said through the smoke “A kid in his twenties with a knife stuck in his belly, and a middle aged man with with no head.”
“It was complicated.”
“I see,” Mathers said “Which is the freshest.”
“The kid,” The rider pointed at his own belly for some reason “We found him first, but the other guy has been dead for a few days.”
“Give me the kid.”
No more words were exchanged. Mathers opened the trunk of his car, the bedding of which was covered in plastic. The leader of the pack snapped his fingers, and the other two riders walked to the pickup truck. After some fumbling, they walked to Mathers’ car carrying the kid by his limp arms and legs. They placed the body in the car, and walked back to their bikes. Christopher Mathers paid the leader, closed the trunk of his car, sat in the driver’s seat, and was off. He wondered whether he had enough coal for his griller back home, or should he just buy some on his way back either way.
And so forth.