A chef named Anne was cooking in the restaurant until she went to to the staff room .She was at the door she gulped her saliva and peaked at the door and gasped in disbelief her manager killed her husband suddenly her boss/manger saw her so she kept quiet and ran off but her wicked boss caught up with her and told her to keep quiet or you well be next and kept quiet for two years with tears in our eyes have friends wondering why they kept on asking and asking but she kept quiet but she knew I was gonna happen if she said what happened then another year comes by she doesn’t do anything but Mum does because she can tell anything because Anne keeps all her everything she knows in a locked up book what she copied a key and gave her Mum so the next day her mum reported everything to the police details location everything so when they came to the restaurant manager/boss thought Anne reported everything to the police but she wasn’t her so the manager/boss scattered the whole restaurant looking for her, but she wasn’t here today so the next day she came all over her almost killing her until the police came and arrested the manager/boss now Anne is called the bravest and boldest person in the world for this and this story/secret has been shared with the whole wide world (not a true story).

Quickly moving by the head chef, Marcus yells “Behind!!”, as he carries a large pot of steaming soup. The kitchen is filled with noise, tentacles being dropped into the fryer, the sue chef yelling out orders, butter hitting the fry pan. Marcus makes his way through the maze of a kitchen area, turning and twisting as other staff walk through with their items. Some soup spills on the ground as Marcus turns the corner and splatters purple on the floor tiles. In the dining area the waiters are busy with a full house. Tonight is the restaurants most busy night and they have some high paying customers to keep happy while waiting for their food. On a small stage a jazz band plays, drowning out the loud chatter of the guests and the yelling of the sue chef. “Excuse me, excuse me!” A women with a fur coat, large gemstone necklace, and a stuffed snake used as a scarf, yells at one of the waiters passing by with a tray of food. “Yes, how may I assist you?” The waiter looks young and intimidated. They look between the lady who spoke and the table he needs to be at, the other customers looking angry and impatient. “I’ve been waiting so long for this dish, it’s my nephews birthday you know, I just can’t believe I was invited to be here just for this to be my wait time, I mean does Samantha even know I’m here? I’m not someone to be kept waiting“ The lady keeps dragging on as the young waiter grows more anxious. They start to shake, causing the soup bowls to slosh and spill onto the serving tray. They mutter a quick “excuse me please” before turning quickly, running into another waiter and dropping both trays of food.

Samantha, the head chef, is prepping vegetables in the back. They know how crazy busy nights can get and try to hide away doing prep work and re stalking the freezer. This also happens to be their big delivery day, the head chef needs to be present to make sure the stock has been properly delivered and to sign off on the order. A loud knocking can be heard from the back door and Sam hears the rumblings of the delivery truck. They quickly wipe off their hands on their apron before removing it and placing it on a hook near the door. Sam checks behind them before slipping out the back door, making sure no one is following behind. “Hey Sam” The delivery driver says, lifting open the trucks back sliding door. “I’ve got quite the catch for you today,” they’re rubbing their hands together, warm air visibly escaping their mouth as they enter the refrigerated truck. “Locals said they use it as a dessert, ya know thought you could spice up your menu a little.” The driver heads to the back of the truck until they find a small cube freezer with a lock. Sam rubs her arms while she waits for the driver to unlock the freezer, looking around at the other cargo, piles of frozen calfs, lamb, chickens, even an alligator head. The lock clicks open and Sam turns her head to the contents inside. The driver reveals four vacuum sealed bags, he puts three of them into another bag labeled “exotic meat”, and shows Sam the remaining bag. “So they said something about the eyeballs being sweet, they make a sauce and throw it on ‘em, but these little antennas for the eye got the most delicious part to it. You just crack em like crabs and suck the juice out, then you take the shell and use it as a straw for the brain.” The driver chuckles at his own story, no regard for Sam fake gagging into their hand. “I don’t eat my dishes I only serve them.” Sam chokes out, putting the bag with the rest of them and sealing it up. “I just need to know the species name.” “It was, let me think a second, something grabocious… hmmm.. oh I got it, Garbol-Axetrocious, they come from the planet Juevesen. Ya know that sea planet you asked about. They have a lot of aquatic aliens you could definitely pass off as sea creatures if you ever got busted.” The driver replies. “Yes, yes thank you. I’ll have Marcus come out and unload the rest of the order, here’s your tip.” Sam hands the driver a roll of money and leaves with the bag of alien meat. Inside the young waiter from earlier is franticly running around the kitchen looking for Sam. Tears well up in their eyes as they aggressively open the walk in freezer door. Sam is sitting on the ground organizing the bottom shelves. “I’m so sorry, it’s Lady Shivan, I spilled some soup, the Lady was barking at me, the other worker, I think her name is Matilda, she’s pissed at me, and now Lady Shivan is demanding to speak to you. I’m so sorry, I know it’s-“ Sam walks past the waiter, not letting them finish, heading straight towards the dining room. Someone is still cleaning up the spill while the Host tries to calmly speak to Lady Shivan as she’s standing up and yelling at them. “I’ll have you know i’ve been attending this club for 20 years, I don’t have time to be waiting like this and dealing with your incompetence” Lady Shivan’s demeanor completely changes when they see Sam, their eyes lighting up and their deep set anger lines loosen up as they form a smile. “Oh, Samantha dear, finally someone who can help me.” Sam nods to the Host letting them know they are no longer needed, they give Sam an angry scowl before heading back to the front of the restaurant. “My dear Lady,” Sam greats Lady Shivan with a kiss on each cheek, “I am so sorry for the inconvenience this may have caused you. I have a new special dessert that just came in fresh, I’d love to extend this delicacy to you as the first patron of this club to ever try it.” Lady Shivans entire attitude changes, they look so excited they’re almost drooling. They nod their head, wiping away a bit of spit from the side of their mouth. Sam bows to the Lady before heading back to the kitchen. As the doors to the dining room close she smirks to herself. “Is Lady Shivans soup almost ready Marcus?” She calls out. “Yes I was just waiting on the latest shipment, i’m serving her dish as we speak.” Sam heads to their prep area to get the new dessert ready for Lady Shivan. Patrons come across the country and sometimes even out of country just to be a member of this club. The rich spend so much time having copious amounts of money but not enough time to live according to them. Sam’s father was the original Head Chef, using his status to gain an extra income on the side by selling exotic meats to the wealthy. The exotic meats in question were those of aliens. It wasn’t until later that the wealthy who would consume these other worldly beings found that they were extending their lifespan. If they stopped partaking in the food, though, they would age greatly. This caused them to be consumed with greed and desire. They made the restaurant into a club, making it exclusive to those they deemed worthy to know of their miracle meat. Without their miracle, they would slowly be consumed with madness and turn into a beast. As Sam adds the finishing touches to the dessert, pouring the sauce over the top and cleaning the edges, chatter is heard in the front of the restaurant. Sam hands the young waiter the dish and sends them out to Lady Shivan. Sam heads to the Host’s desk where two investigators are waiting. Some guests lower their chatter upon seeing the investigators, tension filling the air. Lady Shivan is distracted by her delicacy, letting out child like sounds of joy as the waiter sets down the dessert. “We have been tipped that you just received a shipment of-“ The investigator on the right pulls out his notepad flipping through it, “A shipment of Garbol-Axetrocious meat illegally. We have a warrant to check the premises.” Sam compiles her shock trying not to show the investigators any sign of hesitation or guilt. How could they have a warrant so fast? Was she set up? Who else knows about the opporation? The club had been running for 20 years now, if her father found out she messed up the business, “Haha, that sounds like a new kind of bird, what is that? Right this way, i’ll take you to our kitchen.” Sam walks past the customers who all seem to be starring. Lady Shivan is endulging herself in the dessert, making awkward moans as she bites into the eyes. Sam opens the kitchen doors and leads them to the walk in freezer, “This is where we keep our meat, if you have any questions please let me know, i’ll just be over here while you do your search.” Sam steps aside, peeking out at the dining room and at Lady Shivan. The other guests have gone back to eating but visibly look tense. Awkward chatter starts to fill the air, covering up Lady Shivans enjoyment of her dish. The investigators leave the walk in and start making their way around the rest of the kitchen, finishing their search. Sam makes eye contact with Marcus as he comes through the back door. He nervously looks away and heads to the staff room, avoiding both Sam and the investigators. Sam peaks back out at Lady Shivan, who is slurping the rest of the brain juices with the make shift antena straw, a giant grin across her face, her lips stained purple. The investigators tap Sam on the shoulder, startling her. “Sorry to scare you Miss, and sorry to bother you for the night. We found no foreign meats anywhere with our scanners, we’ll be done for the night.” “I apologize for the inconvenience, if you could just see us out.” The other detective states. Sam walks them to the Hosts desk, side eyeing Lady Shivan as she licks her fingers of the last of the evidence. “Sorry for the confusion officers, here’s my personal number if you need anything else from me” Sam hands them each her business card as they leave, they give her a smile and wave in return. As soon as they exit the other customers start back up their regular flow of conversation, Sam lets out a large sigh of relief. “Hahaha, if it weren’t for that newbee waiter messing up in front of Lady Shivan, we may have been caught for sure.” Sam says to the Host who is shaking their head. “We can only hope we’re just as lucky next time. Now about this rat in my kitchen…”

Everyone loves my food; of course they do; it would be dumb of them not to. People especially love my stews! They give me raving reviews, saying so much of the same thing: “This, by far, is your best meal,” and “I could eat this for days.” But what about the people that don't like my food? I have a very particular way of dealing with people like that. Whenever I receive a tainted review, I make sure they are dealt with correctly. As soon as they leave the restaurant, I make sure that I, the security camera, get a clear view of their license plate. Then, using public records, I reverse lookup their license plate. After that I give them a little visit; one of us doesn't leave this encounter alive. After that I have some new meat for my stews.

One day a manager hired a chef who said they could cook anything. This chef seemed like they were a sweet person who generally actually loved cooking not for the money, just fun. Is what they thought the case was,But it wasnt..After a couple days of this Mysterious chest working here they noticed a Hidious stench coming from the kitchen and it stunk then whole place leading to them not getting a a lot of people coming to eat there. They asked the chef what was the oder and they responded with, “ My secret ingredient well of course..” . They didnt believe this because well.. It smelt like rotten blood or so . They call the police and searched her and found that she had been hiding dead animals in her pocket with plastic bags.she was arested and she was never seen again.

James sucked in a deep breath, his eyes darting around the room, silently begging no one to enter the freezer room. He had planned it perfectly, but that didn’t mean plans couldn’t change.

With a quick glance at the clock, he breathed a sigh of relief. He had 1 hour before any of his employees would arrive. 1 hour to deal with everything. 1 hour to fix things. Pulling himself together, he shoves the last few dirty plates in the dishwasher, and steps into the freezer room.

Quickly, he imputed the code to stop the alarm being set off from opening the door, and stuffs his hand in his pocket as the icy chill hits him. And there it was. Glinting behind a few bags of ice. Everything he’d ever worked for.

What would you do with a body if you had one to hide? __ __ The heavy fall of a knife slammed down onto the chopping board. My hands were clammy and I had to make an effort not to let the knife slip out of my hand. Not to draw attention to myself. Although I was alone, I always felt like I was being watched. I steadied myself and looked around my room, then back to the mess in front of me.

No one ever questioned what they were eating if they were enjoying it… __ __ My knife was struggling to cut through tendons, so skidded from one side of the board to the other. Sweat trickled down my face, as my arms strained to saw through the gristle. Around me, the air felt heavy and stung my eyes. Suddenly, my knife slipped and fell on the floor.

Do you ever do something you regret? __ __ I gasped and jumped back. I groaned and stomped; turning around to try and calm myself down. My once clean and crisp white uniform was splattered with crimson stains. My hand instinctively reached to my face, leaving smudges running down my cheeks. I looked down at the bloody remains infront of me, my eyes darting across the board.

What would you do if someone caught you doing something bad? __ __ My heart stopped. Not wanting to look, I heard the distinct creak of a door opening behind me…

No one ever suspected Luke, the head chef, of bringing his victim's bodies to the restaurant to dispose of them. Luke would cut up the bodies into several pieces and put whatever was left of his victims into a meat grinder. Luke had an impeccable attention to detail. He always made sure to clean every corner of the meat grinder.

The aroma of caramelized onions and simmering garlic clung to Chef Alexandre like a second skin, a fragrant shroud that usually brought him comfort. Tonight, however, it felt heavy, cloying, a grim echo of the darkness he harbored. He surveyed his domain, 'Le Petit Paradis', nestled in a quiet corner of Montmartre. The clinking of champagne glasses and the murmur of satisfied diners usually filled him with pride, but tonight, a cold dread coiled in his gut. His patrons, savoring his meticulously crafted dishes, were oblivious to the horrifying truth that seasoned their meals. Alexandre, the celebrated chef, was a cannibal. It hadn't started this way. He had always been driven by a relentless pursuit of culinary perfection. But the relentless pressure, the demanding clientele, the never-ending quest for innovation, had slowly eroded his sanity. The first victim had been an accident, a drunken patron who had stumbled into the alley behind the restaurant, spewing insults and threats. In a moment of blind rage, Alexandre had silenced him permanently. Staring at the lifeless body, a grotesque idea, whispered from the darkest recesses of his mind, took hold. He remembered reading about an ancient tribe that consumed their enemies, believing it transferred their strength. A morbid curiosity, entwined with his culinary ambition, ignited a terrifying experiment. The result was... exquisite. The flesh, masked by his signature blend of herbs and spices, was undeniably delicious. The first bite had been a struggle, a nauseating dance between revulsion and an unfamiliar hunger. But the hunger won, and with each subsequent mouthful, a perverse thrill surged through him. It was the thrill of the forbidden, the taboo, the ultimate culinary transgression. He began carefully, selecting his victims from the dregs of society – the cruel, the arrogant, the entitled. He justified his actions with a twisted sense of justice, convincing himself he was merely cleansing the world of parasites. His secret fueled his creativity. Dishes became bolder, more innovative, each one a macabre masterpiece that garnered rave reviews and Michelin stars. The irony gnawed at him: he, the celebrated chef, was serving cannibalistic delicacies to unsuspecting gourmands, and they were clamoring for more. Maintaining his secret was a high-wire act. He sourced his 'special ingredient' with meticulous care, targeting individuals who wouldn't be missed. The preparation was a ritual performed in the dead of night, in a hidden chamber beneath the restaurant, accessible only through a concealed door in his office. The waste was disposed of with surgical precision, leaving no trace of his gruesome activities. Years blurred into a cycle of creation and consumption. The thrill of his secret remained, a dark undercurrent to his success, but guilt began to fester, a poison seeping into his soul. The face of his first victim haunted his dreams, his vacant eyes accusing. The satisfied moans of his customers morphed into the screams of the damned. One evening, a young woman, a food blogger with eyes that shone with admiration, arrived at Le Petit Paradis. As he watched her savor each bite, a wave of shame washed over him. He saw in her a reflection of his younger self, the passionate chef untainted by darkness. That night, sleep eluded him. He paced his apartment, the guilt a suffocating weight. He had to confess, to face the consequences, but the fear of exposure, of losing everything, paralyzed him. Desperate for respite, he announced a temporary closure of the restaurant, citing personal reasons. He retreated to his secluded countryside cottage, seeking solace in solitude. But the silence was deafening, filled with the ghostly whispers of his victims. Their faces, once fleeting shadows, now materialized in the flickering firelight, their silent screams echoing through the empty rooms. One stormy afternoon, a news report shattered the fragile peace. A string of missing persons cases in Paris, the victims eerily similar to those he had chosen. A cold dread gripped him. Someone else was following his path, a copycat, but one who was careless, leaving a trail of evidence. A trail that could lead back to Alexandre, the celebrated chef with a hidden chamber beneath his restaurant. Fear warred with a twisted sense of responsibility. He couldn't go to the police without incriminating himself, but he couldn't stand by and watch another monster feast on the innocent. He would hunt the hunter. He returned to Paris, a changed man. The jovial chef was gone, replaced by a gaunt figure with haunted eyes. He plunged into the city's underbelly, navigating the labyrinth of its darkest corners, seeking any clue that could lead him to the copycat. His search led him to a clandestine club concealed beneath an antique shop. It was a haven for the city's elite, a place where they indulged their darkest desires. There, amidst the decadent revelry, he found his target – a butcher, a supplier of exotic meats to exclusive restaurants. A sadist who reveled in the suffering of others. Alexandre recognized the glint of madness in his eyes, the same madness that had consumed him. A dangerous game of cat and mouse ensued. Alexandre, using his intimate knowledge of the city and his culinary skills as a weapon, laid a trap. He lured the butcher to Le Petit Paradis, to the hidden chamber, the silent witness to his own depravity. The confrontation was a maelstrom of violence, a desperate struggle between two men who had crossed the line of humanity. Alexandre emerged victorious, but the chamber, once a sanctuary of secrecy, was now a blood-soaked abattoir. He had become the very monster he sought to destroy. As the sirens wailed in the distance, he made a decision. He wouldn't run. He couldn't outrun the ghosts that clung to him. He surrendered to the police, confessing to his own crimes and exposing the butcher's atrocities. The news of his arrest sent shockwaves through Paris. Le Petit Paradis, once a culinary haven, was now synonymous with horror. His trial was a media frenzy, the public captivated and repulsed in equal measure. He was sentenced to life in prison, his name forever tainted. In the stark solitude of his cell, stripped of his freedom and his reputation, Alexandre found a perverse form of release. The guilt that had tormented him for years began to recede, replaced by a profound remorse. He started writing, pouring his confessions onto page after page, a testament to his sins, a warning to others. Years later, a young woman visited him. The food blogger. She had become a journalist, drawn to the story of the cannibal chef. She wanted to understand. He told her everything, sparing no detail, his voice a dry rasp. "Why?" she asked, her eyes filled with a mixture of horror and pity. "I thought I was in control," he confessed, "But the darkness... it consumes you. It takes everything." He died in prison, an old man forgotten by the world. Le Petit Paradis remained abandoned, a decaying monument to his horrific secret. But his story lived on, a chilling reminder of the darkness that can lurk beneath the surface of even the most celebrated individuals, and the terrible price of indulging in the forbidden.

She felt it now. A tremor rising up her spine. Fear. No not fear, panic.

Any moment now, she would get caught.

There was only so much stealth she could employ to allow herself to get away with this.

Someone would inevitably realise that she shouldn’t be here.

Not now, not anymore. Twelve years service. Twelve harrassing years of giving absolutely bloody everything.

And yet the news of her sacking must not have filtered through the general staff.

The waiters still greeted her, with the uncaring nonchalence of people embarking on their monotonous, daily ritual and yet -

She could hear a clamour at the front of the restaurant.

The kitchen buzzed away, cogs in a whirring machine, clearly unaware that the chief conductor had left the orchestra.

Her panic had her mixing her metaphors.

And then she found it, deep within her pocket.

The vial.

Oh they were certainly going to taste revenge!

Twenty five minutes later, Jed encouraged his family to their tables.

This was one of the perks of owning a restaurant. Free meals for the entire family. And yet, something wasn’t sitting right with him today.

He remembered Katie’s face when he told her he’d have to let her go. It hadn’t sat right with him at all.

Yep, the books needed to be balanced, and yep that probably meant having to let some staff go, but Katie?

I mean her wages were disproportionately high, he’d tried to convince himself.

Anya disagreed. He eyed his wife now, her lips pursed, frown lines creeping onto her forehead. He could tell from her body language that she was actively ignoring him.

Great. Anya and Katie had regularly gone for drinks together. Just great.

And then he saw her.

Agitated and practically galloping through the restraunt - Katie.

Anya gave him the look. He sighed.

The job was done. Now all she had to do was get out of there, without being spotted.

Not so easy when the only exit happened to be across the restaurant floor.

Now if she could just get out without catching anyone’s attention.

Shit. Jed was walking towards her.

“Katie I-“ he began.

“Don’t worry about it” she interjected harshly. “You’ve said all you needed to.”

There was something on his face. What was it? Contrition?

“Katie, I think maybe I acted too hastily…”

The conversation wasn’t going well at all.

He’d ambled his words right at the beginning and she was definitely more angry than she’d seemed earlier.

She had launched into a stinging whisper attack. How could women convey so much feeling whilst whispering, Jed wondered. Lost in his own thoughts as his eyes glassed over, he only briefly captured words such as ‘betrayal,’ ‘disrespect’ and ‘Anya was like a sister.’

“Katie look, I acted rashly. It was a huge mistake. I’m sorry.”

She hadn’t expected this.

And the worst thing about it was, he seemed genuine.

Were those tears in his eyes?!

She couldn’t believe it. Was he offering her job back?

“Katie!!!” Came a bellow from across the table. She was, bounding towards her, plate in hand, Brian, Jed’s father.

The man who’d recruited her in the first place. He’d seemed anodyne enough at the time, but he had the propensity to get a bit handsy.

That’s why he’d been shuffled off management and replaced by his son.

Clearly, with no knowledge of the days events, Brian bundled over, dried red wine colouring the sharp whites of his moustache.

He pulled her into a tight squeeze, only half reciprocated, that lingered just a beat too long.

“Dad…can you just shake hands like normal people?” Jed sighed wearily.

“Oh nonsense!!” Brian boomed, “she’s missed me! Oh you’ve missed me haven’t you”

Katie opened her mouth to reply, but her response was lost in the largeness of Brian.

Sensing an opportunity to impose his dominion, Brian quickly reached for a pork pie. “Here you go!!” He bellowed, stuffing a pork pie into her mouth.

She took a bite, feeling uncomfortably childlike at the scene that unfolded before her.

The jolly bully and the reluctant dismisser.

How the hell did she get here, she wondered, as she swallowed her mouthful.

She’d only come here to -

And then she froze.

Her mind slid back to a scene, twenty five minutes earlier.

The scene where she’d added ricin powder to the batter mixture.

The batter mixture that had been used to make the pork pies.

TW: De@th

We grow up hearing, “do what you love!” For those with a passion for food, like me, why not take one last bite with your last breath? It is commonplace in prison to get a last meal before the axe goes down. How come the incarcerated get this luxury but not the common person? These questions led me to open this esteemed euthanasia establishment. Our slogan? “It’s to die for!” And, we’ve never gotten a bad review!

MENU: Appetizers: Cyanide Soup Roasted Asparaghast _Crispy Killliflower _ Loaded Sweet Potato Dies Teriyaki Leaducce Wraps Coffin Cakes

Drinks: Carbon Monoxcider Formaldehydrating Sparkling Water Toxgin and Tonic Fresh-Squeezed Diemade _Passed Away Chardonnay _ _Spicy Margareaper _ Fatalitea

Mains: Baked Stuffed Sichuan Losster __ Carolina Reaper Ranch Salmon Salad Herb-Braised Chicken and Salmonella You Should have Ducked on Pear Asbestoast Birria Beef Tacoh No’s Arsenic Glazed Toadstool Sauerkraut Sandwich Sweet and Mostly Sour Popcorn Chickend Acorn Squashed with Mercury Venemousse Crossing the Veal with Cobaltsamic Reduction _Bone-in Rosemary Pheasant Radiumsticks _ Chimichurri Burned at the Steak Beef Farewellington __ __ Dessert:

Unolive Oil Demise Cream I Scream Ta-sting Trio Molten Hot Lava Cake I See Cheesuscake Death by Choco-too-late Drownie Rhubarbed Strawbury Crumble _Cardemon-Carrion Crisp _ Pomelo Souffláy Raspberry Walnut Torteture Crème brûlaid to Rest with Cherry Decompote _Pain au chocolat _