Playing with Food by K.A. Merikan

 
     
    When the mermaid’s skin turned a dark golden hue, the kitchen staff moved the spit roast away from the fire and placed her grotesquely contorted body on a metal stand at the main table. Freshly barbequed meat was a delicacy few guests of the restaurant could resist and soon, a queue gathered at the buffet. A cook with a knife where his left hand should be served the patrons with terrifying proficiency, and off went the mermaid’s breasts, her crisp fingers and juicy insides. This place catered for even the most sophisticated palate, and many of the guests seemed to have a particular liking for the mermaid’s skin.
    Llawan gathered his long hair to one side and twisted it into a tight braid. Only a few hours ago, that piece of roast was alive and far too agitated to stay in one place; to curl behind a colorful rock, or hide in the bush of algae like the other captives did. Restlessness was a death sentence. Llawan knew that all too well after three days in the restaurant’s merpeople tank. In the confines of a small mock-castle he didn't feel like a prince at all. Stuck at the bottom of the huge aquarium, he watched the soulless land dwellers munch on the flesh of his brothers and sisters. When one of them walked over to the tank and knocked on the thick glass to capture the merpeople’s attention, Llawan always remained in hiding. Most of the time, the guests wanted to watch them swim around, but sometimes, curiosity led to death, when luring them out of the shadows was meant to select a merman, or a mermaid, to go on the table.
    The days spent in the tank were filled with never ending terror. Llawan could barely sleep, as whenever he closed his eyes, he was taunted by the image of a mermaid; her eyes laid out on a bed of sliced fruit like the most delicious treats and a servant crushing her fingers with a nutcracker and adding the bits to a salad. Witnessing such atrocities, he figured it was for the better that at least they were killed before being eaten.
    What dawned on him though, was that he was the last merman left in the aquarium and he was ashamed of it. During the morning feeding, it was only females darting towards the surface for the best bits. Their stay in the tank was short lived, so the staff didn’t have to feed them properly. And even though he was starving, Llawan kept hidden in his castle, peeking out the windows every now and then. Only this time, he wouldn’t. If he was to die, he would embrace it and leave this world on his own terms, because this kind of life was not worth all the terror he was going through. And maybe, thanks to him, one of the mermaids who was not yet ready to end up on a fancy plate, could have a few more hours.
    He heard the tap of fingers on the glass wall of the aquarium and it wasn’t just the sound he recognized. Llawan could feel the delicate vibrations in the water. He took a huge gulp of it and left the castle to swim up closer to the glass. Judging on the number of taps, he assumed it was two people looking for a meal, but he wasn’t prepared for what he actually saw. There was a single man in front of the aquarium, but he had a total of four arms, all of his fingers knocking against the glass. The moment their eyes met, Llawan’s white with the man’s dark like two black jellyfish, his heart froze. That was it. This was the moment. He’d be eaten by this man and his friends. Or, if the customer had a voracious appetite, he could take Llawan’s body home to feast on it for as long as there was any flesh left on his bones. Maybe he’d even suck on the bones. Llawan had seen others do it.
    Nothing went to waste in Ossenthar. These people even made their tables out of bones and skin. Those pieces of furniture made him cringe. He couldn’t think of magic more disgusting. The tables would walk away on their own when not in use anymore and even through the tank walls, he believed he could hear their raspy moans of pain. He’d rather be eaten than end up