This is a story I wrote in grade nine. But I kinda modified... so... TA DA! Here it is...
Here is the story of my life. A short lived one. I wish I could say that the quality made up for the quantity. But than I would be lying. You may recognize me. Presented to you on a porcelain dish at a ravish restaurant. My pale almost white flesh cooked to perfection and blanketed in rich cream sauce. And all for your eating pleasure.
I once lived cozily by my mothers warm and loving side. I would curl up beside her at night and during my afternoon naps. I could suckle her when I pleased. However, within only a few days of my birth, one of them tore me away from her. They threw me into a horridly fervent, reeking overcrowded box which was constantly jerking. Making myself and the others sick to our stomachs.
I stood there for an eternity lacking my mothers nourishing milk and warm comforting side. There wasn�t even enough room to move your head. I was beginning to feel weak from the lack of my mothers milk, essential to my health and survival as an infant. I met others with stories much too similar to my own.
At long last, the ride in that cruel box was over and they let all of us out. And here I am now, being lead into a Hell much worse than the one I just left. To force me into that strange and barren building, they jabbed my delicate skin with these sharp objects that pierced me and drew blood that trickled down from my open wound. By now I was wishing that my suffering would end forever. I looked down at the floor, but there was none. Just a mesh with little bits of dried blood and various other bits of debris. Some of the others legs would get caught in the holes and they�d stumble and get trampled by those attempting to escape the pokings and proddings from them.
The walls and ceiling, are splashed with fresh and dried blood and other unimaginable flecks of matter. There are flies buzzing around everywhere for they smell the blood. Much like the way I can taste the coppery taste of fear and smell the bittersweet release of death. However, before one can accomplish death, one must first go through Hell. I am so very frightened. I wish I was once again with my dear mother. She would nuzzle me and tell me to go to sleep. It�s almost time for my afternoon nap. How I miss her already. I wonder if I will ever see her again.
As I try to keep up with the others, one of them suddenly snatches one of my hind legs. I cry out in distress... a cry unheard by their dumb ears. He suspends me from a ring which is connected to a bigger ring that is rotating. Hanging beside me is one of my friends that I talked to in that awful box. I look deep into her eyes and I see the fear she senses. The fear for what awaits the both of us and I know she can see it in my eyes too. We both know what we�re in for.
The ring all of a sudden jolts to an abrupt stop. I see one of them approaching me carrying a dirty knife. He slices my tiny underside open. I feel my insides poor out onto that meshy floor. I can imagine all my blood and guts dripping through the holes for further disposal. I try to struggle and cry, but I can�t. I am too weak. I can feel my life slowly slipping away from me. All I see is white dots clouding my vision and eventually I am surrounded by the white blinding light. And as I hang here, slowly bleeding to death, I wonder why? Why did I endure all this pain and unmerciful treatment? Just to be served upon your plate at some ritzy restaurant and be called a delicacy? So I hope you enjoy every bitter bite as you chew and swallow my flesh, my life, my pain and suffering. Bon appetit.