A sharp stinging sensation charges through my face as a chubby hand strikes me awake. “Time to wake up!” The stranger said. The voice sounded as portly as the hand that brought me to my senses. “We are ready to gorge ourselves on the delectable assortment of food laid before us. So wake up and grace us with your presence.”

My vision is a blur, but steadily it returns to me, and as it does, my surroundings become clear to me. Sitting in front of me are three of the most enormous beings I have ever encountered. They all wore white robes embroidered with gold leaflet designs around the neck, wrists, and chest. Their eyes were a sickly shade of yellow and orange, with a slight protrusion due to their gargantuan size. Laborious breathing echoed throughout the dining hall in which we sat.

“Oh look, he has awoken! Finally, we can eat. I am absolutely famished. What a little shit to make us wait so long for dinner.” Said the mass sitting to my left. “Gertrude, I do believe you started well before the husk decided to wake up. I can see some grease dripping from the whiskers on your chin.” Said the figure to my right. “Bite your tongue, Bartholomew, for it betrays you as well. I can see a bit of flesh flapping between your jowls.” Gertrude replied menacingly. A shade of red flushed over his face, now giving him a likeness more akin to a swine than a man.

“Silence, you pathetic worms!” barked the third voice. It belonged to the largest of the three masses sitting directly before me. The chair beneath this man’s bulk creaked in protest, struggling to sustain its despotic ruler. Sweat dripped from the man's brow as he wriggled violently in an attempt to set up. Reluctantly, they quieted at his command and said, “Yes, Chef.” Having struggled for some time, the man named Chef was finally upright and looking at me with his eyes full of hunger and lust.

“Husk!” he said. “The hour….upon which we….have……waited so long for has come.” This time the air struggled to find its way back into his lungs as he spoke. Menacing grins dawned on the faces of Gertrude and Bartholomew as the words left his thinly pursed lips. “You see, we don’t often have dinner guests to host.”

This time his breath flowed more calmly, allowing him to croak the words rather than harshly exhale them. “I am sure you are wondering how you came to be here in our great hall?” he said excitedly. In truth, I couldn’t remember where I was or how I had gotten here.

The fog clouding my mind still hadn’t lifted, which caused more questions to pop up. However, I couldn’t bring myself to move or to speak. The side of the table I currently find myself is far away from the three hosts. A fire blazed behind the man known as Chef lighting up the far side of the dining hall.

All feeling or sensation is seemingly non-existent throughout my body, which gave freedom for fearful thoughts to take hold. “Would you like to know what we will feast upon tonight, Husk?” Chef said. “TELL HIM…AL..READY!” Gertrude exclaimed. “Very well then.” He replied.

With that said, the beast of a man began to slam his bulbous paws on the table. Shadows begin to stir about the room, revealing frail, grayish-colored servants with the appearance of all pleasures deprived shuffling towards the table, lighting candelabrums as they did. Now I could see a table covered in sliver dishes with domed lids covering this night's menu. Slowly the miserable beings removed the tops, revealing a host of body parts cushioned with all manor of greenery.

“Husk, we humbly thank you for providing us with nourishment.” Chef bellowed. My chest was now heaving violently as my breathing became sporadic. Now my memory starts returning, and suddenly I’m aware of how I came to be here. I had been taken from my village after leaving the local tavern. I hadn’t made it more than ten steps from the front door before I had been struck from the shadows. I blacked out. I have no idea how long I have been in this place held captive, but I know that I shall never leave its confines. One of the gray servants appears at my side and places a mirror before me.

The horror of my appearance ripples through me in agonizing astonishment as I gaze at my mangled and disconnected body, but no words can leave my mouth. Looking at my reflection, I now see why I can’t move or speak. My mouth is sewn shut so tightly I can’t open my lips enough for air to escape. Around my forehead, I can see a thick leather strap bound so tightly that the skin presses up around it. Small pieces of jagged flesh exist where my ears should be. Unable to shift my head and unable to see beyond the natural movement of my eyes and peripheral boundaries, I struggle to see what remains of the rest of me. I feel like I should be able to move my arms or stand, but nothing happens.

“I think I will start with his tongue; I love tongue, especially one so recently harvested,” Gertrude said. “Oh yeah, well, I want his balls. Such a succulent treat they are.” Bartholomew replied. “Husk, it must be so terrifying for you to see yourself in such a way, hmm?” Chef asked. “Do you know what I crave most of all, Husk? It is by far the tastiest part of any creature. I can’t wait to rip out your heart and shred into it with my teeth. No fork or knife necessary, simply my teeth.” He said. I want to fight back, to get up and run away, but I cannot. The will to go on is futile without the means to carry out my desire. They keep calling me Husk, and now that I can see my body cut up and distributed across the table I can see how I am no longer a man. My eyes burn as tears attempt to escape from their ducts, but nothing comes out. Likely, a symptom of dehydration or perhaps because my body is no longer whole.

I want so badly to be free from the hell I currently find myself in. The thought of death remains a terrifying notion; even in my poor condition, I still crave to be free and live again. The idea of living is quickly brought to heel by the motion of Chef being assisted up from his chair by the gray ones.

With the help of his servants, the man now stands as tall as he is wide at the end of the table. Every inch of his body trembling beneath the weight of his grotesque mass. Slowly the man makes the seemingly impossible journey from his side of the table toward mine. How much more can my heart withstand before it ruptures? As the blob of a man comes closer, I can smell the stench of sweat, grease, and rotten flesh permeating from him. My throat swells from the stench, and suddenly my body attempts to heave as the smell overwhelms what senses I have left.

Finally, a tear finds its way out and begins falling down my cheek. At last, the man known as Chef stops at my side. I notice one of his hands disappearing into his white robe. He rummages until he finds what he is looking for. I watch as a sharp dagger manifests. “Any last words, Husk.” He says while laughing intensely. Knowing I can’t say anything, he raises the dagger, and begins to cut the stitches sewn into my chest. With my heart exposed he reaches in and plants his grubby hand on my heart.

My thoughts and fears begin to fade away. Then a burning sensation overtakes me as he rips my heart from its frail enclosure.

Indeed I am a husk…….