Cuisine

word count: 780



         As Adam walked the crooked stone path of 14 Winnipeg St, he couldn’t help but think that the house before him looked like something from a corny horror flick.  The lawn clearly had not been cut for a few weeks and the dandelions had grown rampant, vibrant yellow heads contrasting against the thick green grass.  While most of the other homes in the small town had converted to vinyl siding, 14 Winnipeg St. had stayed with wood and the once-white paint had weathered to a faint gray and started to flake.  The windows were old storm ones with caulking smeared along the edges of the panes and seemed as though they hadn’t been washed anytime recently; spider webs and dust made it impossible to see inside.  When Adam climbed the steps up to the front porch, he heard them creak and groan under his weight, bending until he thought they would break.  Nevertheless, he made it to the front door without incident and, checking his wrist watch to make sure he was not too early or too late, reached up and gave the door a firm rap. 
         Seconds ticked by without any response, then he heard the faint thump of footsteps descending stairs.  The steps grew vaguely louder until they paused just beyond the door and it creaked open.  The woman who greeted him looked to be in her late forties with a gaunt, skeletal figure made all the more insubstantial by the tight dark blouse and skirt she wore.  Her graying hair was pulled back into a tight bun which stretched back the skin of her forehead and around her eyes, giving a waxen appearance.  She smiled warmly, though her posture was rigid and her gaze penetrating. 
         “Hello, you must be Missus Galing.  I’m Adam Stockton,” he said, extending his hand.  She took it and shook firmly with a surprisingly strong grip.
         “It’s Miss Galing, but yes, you are at the correct address. Please, do come in,” she said, stepping back from the door.
         Adam walked in and found the interior of the home to be equally unkempt.  They were standing in a foyer that opened into a living room to the right, a hallway straight ahead that fed to a kitchen, and a darkened stairwell to the left that climbed up to the second floor.  The house smelled musty, like dust and mothballs.
         Miss Galing began to ascend the stairs, turned slightly to address Adam. “First I will introduce you to my mother, Agatha, then show you the rest of the house and your quarters.”
         “Sounds good,” Adam said, following her.  There were no lights over the stairs and Miss Galing seemed to bleed away into the blackness.  He took hesitant steps and listened to her own as guidance to avoid bumping into her.
         “I am pleased at such a prompt response to the ad I placed,” Miss Galing said.
         “I just finished school and this is a great opportunity for me to gain some experience working with the infirm,” Adam said, reaching to the side and touching the wall, for the darkness was a bit disorienting.
         Her steps stopped and he heard her fumbling with a door handle. The door at the top of the steps swung open and gloomy light spilled down the steps.  They stepped into a large room, empty except for a bed tucked in the corner and a woman sitting in a wheel chair looking out a window on the far wall.
         “She is unresponsive for the most part, though in time you will become accustom to her quiet mumblings and know what it is she wants,” Miss Galing said.
         Adam walked towards Agatha, putting on his best smile.  He stopped next to her and leaned down into her field of vision, resting a hand upon her wheelchair.
         “Hello, Agatha. My name is Adam, I’ll be helping out around here from now on.”
         “No…no…” Agatha feebly mumbled through slackened lips.
         Adam’s brow furrowed a bit. “I promise we’ll get along just fine, Agatha.”
         The blow took him by surprise, pain shooting through his entire body and forcing a scream out from the deepest part of his guts.  He fell to the floor, his limbs unresponsive as he continued to scream before the axe came down again and split his head from behind, the sound akin to a pumpkin cracking open on pavement.
         Agatha’s head rolled slightly to the side and she stared down at the body next to her wheelchair, the young man’s death face one of complete agony.  Her bottom lip trembled and she wheezed out another, “no…no…”
         Miss Galing leaned down and smiled sweetly at her mother. “Time to eat.”
         “No…no…”