The Gift of the Season

The red in white was intense.

It stained the blanket of innocence as Lia stumbled, looking back as clouds huffed from her breath. The cold wasn’t as sharp as it had been in his basement, she was almost too hot.  

He had promised something special that night – she had been good enough for a treat. The holidays were for family after all.

And the baby growing inside of her deserved every gift.

He had been careless in his giddy and left a window big enough for Lia to escape. It was the first time in years that daylight was streaming against her face. She had allowed herself a moment for it to soak into her before seeing it was only her and the vast woods.

She ran, without direction, not even realising the trail she was leaving behind. The baby was coming early and was not coming with ease.

It was not long before she faltered, the weight of the child bringing her down. He found them soon after but instead of anger, which usually fuelled him, he was smiling.

'Our child. It comes!' he cried.

He tore apart her dress and produced the long kitchen knife from behind his back. With no strength left, she watched as he started at her chest and cut down her stomach. The blood rippled and poured from her as he peeled back her flesh to find the prize inside.

Pulling out the small thing, he cradled it in his arms.

'Cooked to perfection,' he cooed and showed Lia the little thing.

It was trussed and a golden bronze colour – without a head and no toes. Inside of her, the heat died and she grew cold while he smiled on.

'It will taste delicious.'