Pork

Category B: Highly Commended (2024) Monash Short Story Writing Competition
Author: Amber Mestdagh

In the cruel fever of the red, afternoon sun, a pig farmer lugged a body to the meat shed. The summer was sweltering and torrid, and the only clothing he could bear to live in were his overalls - which were now soppy with dried blood, dirt, and sweat. This relentless heat had tortured half his pigs to death, and the building stress of providing pork to the town had grown burdensome. Therefore, this frantic farmer had formed a decision – kill, or be killed.

In the humble shack that was her home, pork about melted on Sami’s tongue. She experienced what could only be called bliss – solitude from the world outside of her mouth. Sugared and sweet, yet bold and satisfying. Sami had not savored any taste like it. She took her time, running her tongue around her mouth and gently swallowing any flavor that escaped, then the slice of pork whole. She moaned with bliss, overcome by the luxury of the meat. Even the extremities of heat did not dampen her mood – only her clothes. What had Alfonso done to obtain such pork? How was the price so modest? How would she keep such a delicacy hidden?

As Alfonso stripped the meat from its bone, he concluded what a luxury it was, how natural yet rare it was to taste. He slowed down the rapid movements of cutting and tearing it and began to prepare it more – affectionately. He took his time to savor the feel of it in his hands, how the warm blood made the meat slip in his palms. He had done a sinful thing to obtain it – selfish and vicious- yet necessary, and he did not regret this, he reveled in it. He laid the various slabs on his splintered wooden table and took a half step back. He had to be cautious when selling it - even more so when obtaining it – however he was captivated by it, by the idea that he was selling something pure and natural, a thing so pristine. He bagged the meat in paper and stored it in his stone hut so as not to let the cruel heat spoil it, then with a sharp grin on his face, trekked giddily to his house.

Out in the bustling slums of Bremen, Germany, Sami fought her way to Alfonso’s stall. All the pushing and shouting didn’t steer her eyes from the shadowed, obscured cart that was his life’s work. The heat bore its cruel eyes on the heads of the townspeople, the smell of sweat and burning hair was distinct. Sami reached the shaded cart - now like an icy river in a steaming desert – and let out a satisfied sigh at seeing the various parts of pig. Seeing his loyal, engrossed customer, a bright smile lit up Alfonso’s face. The two eyed one another, both beaming and overcome with fondness and infatuation towards the pork.

“A loin please.”

“That is all?”

“No, throw in a leg and arm if you’d be so kind.”

“Certainly.”

Alfonso passed the paper-wrapped meat towards her and put his aged hand out for payment. Sami fished into the frayed pockets of her dress to find some change, placing it in his palm and – lingering her hand on his, for just a moment. Their eyes met again, then dropped to the pork.

“Come to my farm.”

“What?”

“Come see how I prepare it.”

Sami raised her eyes longingly from the pork to Alfonso.

“Of course. I mean, I would love to.”

“Perfect.”

Sami trotted off, looking back at the pig farmer’s stall before bodies pushed into her and she was forced to begin the tiresome trail home.

It was early morning when Alfonso awoke, the sun spewing like a yolk on the horizon, crickets and birds harmonizing. The air was thick and hard to breathe, and his old lungs heaved and choked in the humidity. He made his way to the meat shed, dewed grass sticking to his ankles and his handful of pigs grunting as they woke. He made it to the heavy wooden door and heard a calm voice.

“Morning Alfonso.”

He turned his neck and his eyes fell on Sami.

“You never specified a time.” She remarked with a playful grin.

“I suppose not. Come in.”

Alfonso heaved open the door and gestured to Sami, who stepped her way in. The cooled room of stone added a layer of relief to the two, and Sami began to run her fingers down its walls – leading to pressing her body against it. Alfonso stared at this display. Then inched closer.

“Show me,” Sami whispered, her eyes trailing his movements.

Alfonso leaned into her craving, gently running his rough hands down her chest, then up to her mouth – covering it as he bowed closer.

His hungry eyes bore into her as the knife went in.