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I Loved Them More Than Life Itself

I loved them more than life itself


Estimated reading time — 5 minutes

The love I felt for my wife defied description. Cupid’s arrow landed squarely in the center of my heart the first time I saw her. Her smile rendered me helpless, weakening my legs, my mouth no longer capable of proper speech. I stuttered as I spoke.

She seemed to understand and instead of mocking me, offered her hand and her name: Clarisse. The name flowed like silk off of my tongue; I was smitten.

She accepted my lunch offer and off to Big Pete’s Island Grill we went. She did most of the talking which was fine with me; that gave me the ability to focus on her perfect features. Her perfectly almond-shaped, honey brown eyes twinkled each time she laughed and her ivory colored skin was radiant. A Grecian nose was set above small but perky lips that needed no lipstick or gloss. Her bone structure was exquisite and would, no doubt, be the envy of any model.

I couldn’t stop looking at her. I found myself staring deeply into her eyes, finally understanding what it meant to ‘lose yourself in someone’s eyes’. Her hair flamed like a summer sunset reflecting so much light; her head appeared to be surrounded by a halo.

I know I probably sound crazy and maybe a bit obsessed; but I swear it’s all true. A more perfect human being never existed and I was determined to make her mine.

After six months of dating, I proposed and my heart leapt when she said yes. Three months later, we were married; no need to prolong the inevitable. We moved into a charming little three bedroom house complete with a big backyard for our future children and made it our home.

She was my joy. I would return home from work and she would have dinner waiting; did I mention she was an excellent cook? Roasts so moist and tender, the meat melted in your mouth; perfectly seasoned potatoes were whipped to a lightness only reserved for clouds. Every meal was a mouthwatering treat and I soon discovered how good food and contentment affected your waistline.

I went from 195lbs to 230. My once reasonably athletic frame grew soft and flabby but she loved me just the same and that made me love her even more.

On our first anniversary we discovered we had hit a homerun. A home pregnancy test informed us of our impending parenthood; an ultrasound 3 months later, informed us that we were having triplets. I had never been so happy; we spent the next five months preparing for our new arrivals.

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Labor and delivery was a long and excruciatingly painful process but it paid off in a set of girls and one boy; things couldn’t be more perfect. My wife insisted on breast-feeding them until they were three. I thought it odd, but what the heck? She was mom so she knew best.
Even with the three handfuls, she still had my dinner prepared every night, a herculean feat in my mind. I told her not to worry about me and she shook her head dismissively. She told me that I was as important to her as I had ever been and that there was no reason for anything to change. If she cooked before, she was going to continue to do so. She said she didn’t want me wasting away to skin and bones.

I loved her even more for that.

When the scale revealed a weight of 275, I became concerned. I hadn’t even realized that I had gotten that big. I told Clarisse and she just wrapped her arms around me and told me how much she liked my fluff and how handsome I was.

“You don’t need to lose weight; you just need to change your perspective about your weight.”

I accepted her theory and continued gobbling down whatever she put in front of me. At the table, between forkfuls, I would look across the table and see her staring lovingly at me. I could see she was pleased and that made me want to please her even more. That’s when I would ask for seconds.

Three Years Later

According to my wife, our kids are now ready for solid food. I was kind of excited and looking forward to the first time we all sat down together for dinner. My wife treated it like the special occasion it was. A gold cloth was draped across the table; our best dinner and flatware graced each of the five places.

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I sat at the head surrounded by my beautiful family. The girls were miniature replicas of my wife and my son was the male version of her. I stood, raised my crystal goblet and toasted my family; my wife raised hers in return.

When I woke up, I was naked, lying secured to the table with leather straps. I looked around in confusion, my gaze settling on Clarisse.

“What’s going on? What is this?”

“I told you the kids were ready for solid food, didn’t I?”

“What?”

I saw my children, their eyes focused on their mother. I watched Clarisse nod her head in my direction. I watched the heads of those three little innocents swivel in my direction. I couldn’t quite identify their expressions, but it looked a lot like hunger. I watched as they climbed onto the table. My daughters sat on either side of me, my son, at my head. He stared into my eyes then looked up at his mother. She uttered one word.

“Eat.”

I watched as their baby teeth elongated and sharpened into points. Pain raced through my side as my daughters bit deep into my flesh. Blood dripped from the corners of their mouths as they chewed, savoring their first real taste of meat. My wife stood silently watching; she was salivating.

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I felt another piercing pain as another chunk of flesh was ripped from my body. I screamed and looked down. One of my daughters was still chewing; the other was licking blood from the open wound. I lifted my eyes to see my son looking down at me.

“Son?”

He smiled; his mouth full of teeth as sharp as his sisters. It wasn’t the innocent, delighted smile of a toddler; it was the twisted grin of a creature with a voracious appetite. He opened his mouth wider than should have been possible for a child his age and bit down on my head. The crunch of bone sounded through the air; blood ran down past my ears and pooled on the table below. In my last moments of consciousness, I saw my wife come and stand beside my son and stare into my slowly closing eyes.

She had been fattening me up and preparing me to be our children’s first meal even before they were born and I never suspected a thing. She leaned forward to get her share. When she lifted her head, I could see bits of flesh stuck between her teeth as she chewed, her mouth and chin was smeared with my blood.

They fed. The sounds of flesh being ripped from bone and slurping as pools of blood were lapped up from the table filled my ears.

The last thing I saw before sliding into Death’s embrace was the faces of Clarisse and the children. Sated, their eyes were slightly glazed and they were covered in blood. The jagged teeth were gone but evidence of their recent meal remained. The last thing I heard was the child-like giggles as they cooed softly: “Thank you Daddy.”

Clearly I did not know Clarisse as well as I thought and I died not knowing what she or our offspring were and it really didn’t matter. My love for her and them remained unchanged. If my life had to be traded to ensure the continuation of theirs, then it was a sacrifice I was more than happy to make.

Credit: Cassandra V. Wyatt

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