Meat Shower

I wasn’t suppose to eat it, but what’s a girl to do? 

I, like the rest of the folks in this small town, don’t have much a anything, especially not money. We’re hungry. We’re hungry all the time. 

Sometimes it’s hard to focus cuz I’m so hungry. I can’t sit still in school and I can’t finish my chores because no matter what I do, the hungers always there, like an aching, like a monster. It’s been this way ever since I can remember. 

Mama does her best feedin’ us, but it can get hard, even a 12-year-old like me knows that. My younger brother Bernie cries every night, cries and cries cuz I reckon his stomach is cavin’ in. 

I been praying to God everyday for a miracle, praying for a sign that he’s up there, listening to us. And it came. It finally came. 

Our town's little miracle rained down on us last month. It was just like any other autumn day. The sky was gray and the air stung from cold. The oak trees brushing along our front yard were sheddin’, so I was raking all em’ leaves into piles before Mama came home. I like to help like that. 

And that’s when I heard it. 

A loud, cold slap hitting pavement, sounding like someone gittin’ a good whacking across the face. I turned around quick and there it was, fresh as a daisy, real and right as a promise. 

A large slab of meat lay on the ground before me. 

I stood there dumbstruck. How’d this get here? I ain’t seen nobody around. I didn’t hear nobody come by. I bent down to get a better look at it, this thing that seemed to have fallin’ right outta the sky. 

The first thing I noticed was it didn’t look right. The cut of meat was mangled and strewn out like something tore its claws right on through it. I tried to think back to when Daddy was around, when he’d come home with chicken or pork, and this sure didn’t look like the stuff he used to buy from the store. Whatever this was had a cream-color to it and was oozing a milkish film. As I leaned in even closer, its pungent sour smell hit me, like spoiled dairy. I was starting to think I was seein’ things, that maybe I had finally gotten so hungry I imagined this. 

And then, the meat moved. 

I jumped back, falling down a little, because I ain’t seen nothing like it in my life. The pulsating piece of meat looked like it was breathing in an out, in an out, slow and steady. It would expand like a balloon, then settle back down. 

I sat there on the pavement, staring at this piece of meat that had fallin’ outta the sky, wondering what to do next, when another cut of meat hit the ground right there next to my shoe. 

Then another hit the ground. Then another. Then another. 

Before I knew it, I was in the middle of a meat shower. All around me those cuts of milky meat were rainin’ down hard and hittin’ the ground. I’m not sure how long it rained, maybe a second, maybe a minute, but it felt like forever. It felt like a moment so strange and outta place, maybe I wasn’t suppose to be there at all. 

But there I was, sittin’ in the middle of a miracle.

After a few minutes it stopped rainin’ and I ran inside to grab a bag. Sure, the meat didn’t look right or smell no good, but food was food, that much I knew, and Mama would be proud I was quick on my feet.

I walked over to the first cut of meat I could find, a pretty big slab draped over our front porch railin’. This one wasn’t breathin’, so I wasn’t as scared to touch it. I reached forward and picked up the piece. It felt so light and squishy in my hand and as soon as I closed my fingers around it, it began to ooze a milky white juice that dripped down my arm. I didn't like that, but I didn’t mind it neither, because I had work to do. 

I went on scooping up as many pieces as my bag could carry. Our front yard and surroundin’ streets were littered with em’ cuts of meat, and I noticed some of our neighbors were doin’ the same as I was. Like I said, we’re hungry. We’re hungry all the time. 

After my bag was filled to the brim, I went back inside and stuffed the whole thing in the fridge. I couldn’t wait for Mama to come home and see the good work I done. 

But Mama didn’t come home, at least not on time. It was already a quarter past 8pm, and little Bernie wouldn’t stop crying. It was gettin’ hard to focus. And I knew why. We was hungry, we hadn’t eatin’ nothin’ since yesterday. 

At first I thought of all those meats in our fridge, how I could heat a piece up for the both of us. But something inside me told me no, wait for Mama. 

So, I checked all our cupboards and the pantry for somethin’ else to cook and came up blank. Mama would need to go to the store soon, we had nothin’ left. 

When it turned to 10pm I knew Mama had taken a double shift, and that me and Bernie was on our own tonight. I could go next door and ask Miss Scarlet for somethin’ to eat, but Miss Scarlet was an old woman and probably already asleep. It was gettin’ later and later by the minute, and little Bernie was gettin’ louder and louder by the minute. 

I tried to calm Bernie down, I held him close and a rocked him, but he kept patton’ his tummy and wailin’ and I felt so bad for him. My stomach was also growlin’ up a storm, so I thought, to hell with it. There’s meat in my fridge, and I ain’t letting my little brother and me go to bed hungry if I can help it. Besides, what’s a girl to do? 

So, I held little Bernie’s hand and walked us into the kitchin’. I flipped on the lightswitch and the small, cramped space was illuminated by a fadin’ glow. Two of the three lights in our kitchin’ was out, so we had to make do with just the one. Daddy used to cook in here, wakin’ us up on Sundays and makin’ us flapjacks with jam. I think Bernie remembers this too, because he never much likes being in the kitchin’ anymore, just like me. 

But I squeezed Bernie’s hand and whispered to him sweet nothin’s, tellin’ him it’ll all be alright, and that soon, we’d be feastin’. 

Then, standing in front of the fridge and grippin’ the door handle, I gave it a tug. The door opened. The smell hit me first, and I immediately slammed the fridge shut. How’d those meats get to smellin’ so bad so quick? I turned around and looked at Bernie’s small little face and knew I had to try again. So, I plugged my nose and opened that fridge door again. 

The bag of meat sitting on the center shelf was dripping with an egg-yellow fluid, stickin’ and poolin’ down at the bottom of the fridge. I’d have to clean that up later, but for now, with one hand still plugin’ my nose and shoulderin’ the door, I reached in and grabbed the bag.  

Once I had it, I placed it down on the counter. I took a few breaths, then reached inta the bag, took out a piece of meat, then threw it down on a plate. The piece was pulsating just like the first one I seen, and so I rushed over to the microwave, shoved it in there, and pressed two. I stood on tiptoe to watch the meat heat up. The meat looked a like it was fidgetin’ or twitchin’. If I didn’ know any better, I’d say it looked like it didn’t like being in that microwave one bit. 

When the two minutes were up, I pulled out the piece and set it down. Somehow, that God-awful, rotten smell had gotten worse. The meat was still breathing, in and out, but slowin’ down now, slowin’ down almost to a stop. 

I made a silent prayer and picked up a knife and fork, makin’ sure to hold em’ the way Mama taught me, and made the first cut. The meat twitched under the pressure, and a milky yellow fluid leaked from the meat, oozin’ out on the plate and slatherin’ along my knife. The spoiled dairy smell filled the air and I had to take a step back from the plate, chokin’ back a gag.

I didn’t want to eat it. I didn’t want to feed that monster meat to my little brother, but we was so hungry, it felt like our stomachs were screamin’. So, I stepped back to the plate, quickly cut two pieces, and stabbed the fork down. The meat was wrigglin’ right there on my fork, drippin’ with that milky film, and I closed my eyes and shoved that piece right in my mouth. 

It was soft, fleshy, and still wiggling’ a little as I chewed it. I could feel the milky juice coat my tongue, my gums, and I could still smell that spoiled dairy stench, it risin’ up inta my nose. As I chewed, little bits of meat lodged themselves in between my teeth, as if burrowing there. I could feel em’ movin’ around on their own right there in my mouth, explorin’ my gums, my tongue, my teeth. And I hated it. I wanted this meat out of my mouth right now. A bit of yellow juice dripped down my chin and onto my leg, and right there, in that moment, I couldn’t help it. 

I started to gag. 

I gagged and gagged and wanted to throw it all up. I wanted this foreign, foul, fleshy meat out of my mouth, out of my body. 

But when I tried to open my mouth, I couldn’t. It was like my jaws were a mind of their own, clamped down and focused on finishing that piece of meat. I ran to the bathroom, still gaggin’ and tried to force my mouth open over the toilet. But it was no use, my mouth wouldn’t budge, and so I continued to chew and chew that piece of meat until every bit was swallowed. As soon as the last of the meat slid down my throat, my lips unparted, and I inhaled heavily. I breathed in and out, in an out, relieved to finally taste the air. 

And then, I screamed. 

I screamed because for the first time in minutes I could open my mouth at will. I screamed because that piece of meat was movin’ around in my mouth on it’s own. I screamed because something was really, really wrong with what I just done. And I couldn’t take it back. 

I shoved two fingers down the back of my throat hard, tryin’ to throw up what I’d just eatin’, but it didn’t work. No matter how hard I tried, that meat stayed down. I had the horrible feelin’ it wanted to stay down, too. 

In all my fussin’, I had forgotten about little Bernie. I thought about how I was probably scarin’ my little brother bad, so I stood on wobblin’ legs and made my way back to the kitchin’. I needed to get rid of that meat, get rid of it before Mama came home. 

When I got to the kitchin’, I froze. 

Alls I could see was little Bernie’s back, him standin’ there right infront of the plate, the plate with the piece of meat on it. I shook my head, then called out to my little brother, told him to turn around now. 

He did. I couldn’t believe my eyes. 

Bernie had the full cut of meat in his mouth, with about half of it hangin’ out. His eyes were wide and shiny, and I could see he was cryin’. He was holdin’ onto the meat danglin’ out of his mouth with both hands, pullin’ hard, trying to yank it out. But it wouldn’t come out. Instead, it looked like it was crawlin’ up into his mouth, inch by inch, wigglin’ into him.

I didn't wait a second more, I ran to my little brother and threw him to the ground. Once he was on his back, I grabbed onto the last bit of the meat hangin’ out his mouth and yanked with all my might. I pulled and heaved, my knuckles white from holdin’ on so tight. But no matter how hard I pulled, the cut of meat continued to inch deeper down Bernie’s throat. I could feel it slipping through my fingers, and within seconds, it had completely disappeared. Bernie sat up, tears streamin’ down his face, and finally was able to open his mouth. 

I’ll never forget the sound of my little brother's scream that night, and how it filled the room, tearing through me. I could feel his scream deep in my chest, deep in the pit a my stomach. Bernie screamed and screamed for god knows how long, his little body shakin’ so hard in my arms, and alls I could do was hold him close, hold him tight, and pray it was over.  

And that’s how Mama found us, sometime after midnight, holdin’ onto one another on the floor of the kitchin’. 

I tried to explain everything to Mama, but didn’t know how, really. It didn’t matter none, because the next day, me and Bernie showed her ourselves. 

We didn’t want to keep eatin’ that monster meat, but we had to, and now Bernie and I are starvin’ but in a different way. We can’t keep anything down except those milky meats. Anytime we try anything else— a sandwich, mac and cheese, an apple… we just toss it right back up. We’ve lost an awful lot of weight, and Mama doesn’t know what to do for us. No one seems to know what to do for us, even em’ doctors. 

Alls I know is I’m glad I saved so many meats. They’re stored in our freezer right now and I try to make one of em’ last Bernie and me a couple days. 

But, I’m scared for the day when those cuts a meats in my freezer run out. I’m scared for the day when we truly have nothing left to eat. 

The hungers always there, like an aching, like a monster. It’s been this way ever since I can remember. It’ll stay this way now. 

I just keep on prayin’ and prayin’, each and every day, for another miracle meat shower. Maybe it’ll happen. It happened before, didn’t it? 

And beyond that, what’s a girl to do?