Bite of an Apple

By Honoka

We sat around the table; the tablecloth, the curtains, and even the flower on the table at its center were velvety red. They served us an amount of salad, soup, bread, and a piece of meat. I stared at the piece on my plate. It was slightly brown, and it smelled unpleasant. In front of me sat a giraffe and a deer. I glanced from left to right—a rabbit on my left, an elephant on my right. Then, the bell rang. Ting. At once, everyone stood and placed their hands on their chests. I hurried to follow, mimicking their movements. They lowered their heads and closed their eyes. From the far end of the table—the short end where only one was seated—the voice began to chant:

‘Flesh gives us voice, and blood gives us worth. We honor the humans and give thanks for the flesh and blood that sustain us.’

No one seemed to be watching, too absorbed in the chant. I leaned forward slightly to see him. The one who led the chant was a sheep. His fur was meticulously groomed, carrying an air of quiet nobility. The suite, necktie, and antique watch he wore only deepened his refined presence. After a moment, the chant ended, and everyone opened their eyes. They sat down in unison, lifting their knives and forks. With a small nod, the sheep signaled the start of the meal. At once, they began. No one spared a glance for anything else. They tore into the flesh before them, gnawing and swallowing. Their jaws were working steadily, producing a low, grotesque sound as meat and bone cracked between their teeth. Blood splattered across the table, the floor, and the walls.

I stared at the knife and a fork in my hands. The polished silver reflected my face. Within moments, every plate was cleared—except one. All eyes turned toward me. The untouched flesh sat heavy on the plate. In the reflection of the knife, I saw the rabbit again. Its eyes fixed on me and on the plate—drenched in raw instinct, in desire.

—

The Farm. Where all the livestock are taken care of. I had never stepped inside of that building, except once

The farm was…filthy. The disgustingly strong smell of damp earth and manure struck my nasal cavity. Behind the fences, the animals crowded together. Ugly animals, I thought. They could only think of themselves. Selfish and short-sighted. The former teacher used to say that this was why they became livestock. And as if to prove it, they fell into one another, grasping and tearing, their movements tangled and urgent. They never noticed me. They never notice my eyes—eyes filled with disgust. 

The teachers always told us they were important. Necessary for our survival. But I have always wondered, why bind something you despise? We do not truly need them. We could live without them. Without their flesh, without their blood. And yet… They remain, as if they were possessed. They do not resist or try to escape. We are almost like… enslaved by their mesmerizing, seductive, alluring flesh.

—

Around the table, they served us again: salad, soup, bread, and a piece of meat. I stared at the piece of my plate. It was slightly brown now, and the smell had grown stronger, thicker, almost clinging. Then, the bell rang again. Ting. At once, everybody stood. From the far end, the sheep's voice rose:

‘Flesh gives us voice, and blood gives us worth. We honor the humans and give thanks for the flesh and blood that sustain us.’

They close their eyes, hands pressed to their chest, repeating the chant in unison. I followed, matching each movement, each word. When it ended, they sat. With a small nod from the sheep, they began. Again, it was only I who did not move. I glanced at the piece of my plate. The meat no longer repulsed me as strongly as before, but it did not draw me in either. I held the knife and fork in my hands, hesitating. Soon, everyone else had finished. Once again, it was only me, where the untouched flesh sat heavy on the plate. Their stillness made me uneasy. Though no one spoke, it felt as if they were watching. With a trembling hand, I cut a small piece and lifted it with my fork. Slowly, I brought it toward my mouth. I hesitated, and I closed my eyes as I brought the meat inside. Then, I chewed; the taste flooded my mouth, spreading across my tongue, seeping deeper into something I could not name. Before I could think, my hands moved again. I cut another piece, and I took another bite. The hesitation was gone. The room dissolved into the sound of tearing, chewing, and swallowing. When I finally looked up, the room was quiet. I lowered it with my gaze in the reflection of the knife. There I saw the rabbit and a sheep looking into my eyes.