Bogleech.com's 2013 Horror Write-off:
" My Meat "
Submitted by Justin David
I am on the one hundred and seventieth curl repetition. My meat aches and screams and protests, my meat trembles as I force it to lift the hundred pound weights. Moments later the loud clang of the weight fills the otherwise silent gymnasium. I get a few awkward looks but the others simply return to their routine.
I move to a different machine, it is time for squats. I am nearly crushed beneath the weight of the machine before I am rescued by the staff, urged to take a shower and protein shake, and told to head home. Perhaps it is for the best, my meat needs time to rest. I know that I would not be allowed in the next day if the staff recognized me. But thankfully the staff rotates on a day to day basis.
My meat is fed only the best. Eggs, Spinach, Nuts, Protein, and on occasion, meat. Though I avoid the meat when I can help it, it is inferior to my meat. When not tending to my meat, I stand in the mirror and watch my meat ripple. I know it is almost time.
I was a fool before. To think anything mattered other than my meat. But then I made the discovery that meat was all that mattered. In that flash of realization I knew that I must abandon everything in order to prepare my meat. My meat would be the finest, none that came before or since will ever measure up to my meat. Though, perhaps in the future other meat will follow my example. I smile, knowing my preparations will change the future of meat forever.
Another day of making my meat tremble and ache and scream. But I cannot stop now, not when I am so close. My eyes burn with the liquid weakness that pours from my flesh. I wash the filth from my meat and head home. As I stand in the mirror admiring my meat, I hear a distinct rumble from under my house. It is time.
I spend a night resting, true, the pain and trembling do enhance the meat but it's presence taints it in this moment. I cannot present my meat until the next night. I dress in a robe and head to the cellar door. I swing open the door, the rusted hinges squeal and a cloying breath of air pours from the gaping portal. Another rumble sounds, It is eager for my meat.
I drop the robe and the cold air caresses my naked meat. I descend the stairs as another rumble issues from the darkness.
I worked so hard on my meat. I know it will be pleased.