Estimated reading time — 4 minutes
Death is inevitable. We don’t know when it will happen, simply that someday it will come for us all. Well, most people don’t know when, but I do. This is going to sound weird, but I can taste death.
So, what do I mean by that? Well it’s quite simple really. Whenever I eat a meal cooked by someone, and they are close to death, I can taste it. It can be something as simple as a PB&J, if the person who made has death looming over them, then I will taste it. Depending on how close to death they are the flavor will be weaker or stronger, but the taste is unmistakable.
The first experience I remember with my ability was in 3rd grade. My homeroom teacher was in a cheerful mood, so much so that she had made the whole class chocolate chip cookies for no particular reason. Of course being third graders, we were all ecstatic to get a treat in the middle of class.
Chocolate chip cookies have always been my favorite, so I couldn’t wait to bite in to my cookie. When I did however, I instantly regretted it. Have you ever smelled a rotten egg? Well picture that, but about 10 times worse. That was the flavor that I got from these cookies.
I looked around the classroom to see if anyone else was in as much distress as I was, but I was the only one. It seemed as if everyone else was enjoying their treats. Was the teacher playing a prank on me? Had she given a bad cookie intentionally? I picked up my cookie and smelled it. It smelled completely normal. I took another nibble at the cookie. I almost instantly vomited, but I was somehow able to keep it in.
I passed the cookie to one of my nearby friends, and I carefully watched as they devoured it. They had made no odd reaction when eating it. How was that possible? I began to think there was something wrong me, perhaps I was sick.
I made it through the rest of the day, avoiding all food. That night just before I was about to go to sleep, my Mom came in to my room.
She told me that school had been cancelled for the next day. When I asked her why, she got a solemn look on her face. She told me that one of my teachers had been in a car accident, and that she would be in heaven now.
Even as a 10 year old I knew there was some connection between my teacher’s death and the taste of her cookies. I just wasn’t exactly sure what at the time.
No, I wouldn’t truly understand my ability until a few years later.
I was 14 and was about to begin my first day of High School. My Mom was so excited that she had gotten up extra early to make my favorite breakfast. Banana pancakes, crispy maple bacon, and golden hash browns. She had pulled out all the stops, my mouth was watering before I even made it to the kitchen.
My Mom had always been the best cook. So, I thought it was a bit strange that this meal had a faint taste of something foul to it. It was a different taste than that of my teacher’s cookies, but it certainly wasn’t a good flavor. I could just barely taste it, but it was there. My Father and younger brother made no complaints about the food (Not that they would anyway). So, I just ignored it.
A couple months later my Mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. She was a strong woman though, and she wanted to keep cooking for us. The foul flavor to her food simply kept getting worse though, and so did her health. Eventually I took over the cooking responsibilities from her. I simply couldn’t stand to eat her food anymore.
My Mother died about two years after her diagnosis. It was one of the worst times of my life, but it was when I truly began to understand my ability.
As I have gotten older I have learned even more about my power to taste death. It turns out there are different flavors for death, and I’ve begun to understand which are which.
For example, my teacher’s cookies had tasted like an incredibly bad rotten egg, and she had been in a brutal accident. My mother’s food however had had a bitter medicine taste to it, and she had died to cancer. None of the flavors are good though, it is death after all.
I haven’t really found a practical use for my ability yet, since I can’t determine exactly when someone will die. I just know the stronger the taste, the closer they are to death.
I do play a bit of a morbid game with myself. Whenever I eat food that I haven’t cooked, and I get the taste of death from the food, I try to guess how the person will die. I will read the obituaries in the newspaper to see how close I get. I’ve gotten pretty good at it.
The reason I’m writing this though, is because recently I’ve had an experience with my ability that has me a bit worried.
My girlfriend and I decided to make a homemade pizza. We made it together. We even took turns tossing the dough in the air like you seen on TV all the time.
I thought the pizza had turned out fantastic, it looked phenomenal. As soon as it finished baking I instantly pulled it out, and began fanning it so it would cool down quicker. Once it was at a safe enough temperature to not burn my mouth I dug in. The flavor hit me almost immediately, but not the flavor I had hoped for.
It tasted like… murder?
That couldn’t be right. I took another bite, and there it was again. I’ve tasted enough food made by murdered people to know this flavor, but I still can’t accept it.
My biggest question was, who was the flavor for? We had made the pizza together. Would I be murdered, my girlfriend, both of us? Would one of us murder the other?
I have so many questions, but not much time. The flavor of murder was quite strong, so I know it must be coming soon.
Now that I think about it, my girlfriend has been acting quite strange recently. She’s on the phone with someone in the other room right now, and she’s trying to talk in a hushed voice. Is she plotting my murder right now?
I’m sorry, but I just can’t sit back and let this happen. After she gets off the phone I’m going to end this once and for all. I just hope the taste goes away…