Our Family Tradition
Written by Chris Zeid
Isabelle awoke with small beads of sweat draped against her cold, clammy face. She felt herself in a bit of a daze and immediately knew something was wrong. She wasn’t waking from her bed—she was in someone’s dining room sitting in a chair at the head of the dining table. The room was nice. It felt welcoming. At least welcoming to someone who came on their own account. Artificial tall green plants sat in the back corners of the room. Instead of painted walls, the walls were covered with wallpaper which was made up of a pattern of shapes colored in pastel. A few family photos hung on one of the walls displaying memories of a happy family of three: what appeared to be a husband and wife and their daughter. A myriad of wonderful smells arose from somewhere behind her. The smells of delicious food which were followed by the sizzles and pops of a meal currently in its creation. As she became more conscious with each waking moment, her memory of what had happened began to fade in.
It had been morning, and it had been a very sunny, inviting day. She had been out in the open, available for anyone to see her. Shouldn’t that have been safe? But how often are people really looking, actually paying attention? She remembered meeting that woman at the meat counter at the grocery store. No, she didn’t exactly meet her as much as they knocked into each other. Their shopping carts colliding to their sudden shock. Not knowing who had hit whom, the two had profusely apologized to the other. They each smiled as they went on their way, a small encounter she didn’t think much else of once she started looking for the frozen food aisle. She wasn’t much of a cook herself, so it was always the easy route for this still adjusting out of her parent’s home young twenty-year-old. It was when she was ready to check out that she saw the woman again in line. Too embarrassed to have the woman notice her, she moved over to the next register with her cart full of mostly instant and frozen variations of your usual meals. After paying for her groceries and nearing her car, she realized that the woman was edging close behind. Is she following me? Isabelle wondered. She opened the trunk and began loading in her groceries. The woman stopped next to her; her car happened to be parked next to Isabelle’s.
Needing to kill her feeling of awkwardness, she said, “Sorry again about hitting your cart.”
The woman said, “Not at all. It may have been my fault, really.” She lifted her hand and extended her index finger up. “One second.”
The woman knocked on her car window. Three slow knocks seemingly in a pattern. A man exited the driver’s side of the vehicle.
“This going to be the one?” he asked the woman.
“Yes.”
Isabelle backed away from them, her internal warning signals kicking into high gear. She noticed the man was carrying something long and thin in his hand and realized it was a needle. A single drop of liquid popped out—the needle salivating as it viewed its prey. She tried to move faster, but it didn’t matter. It was already too late. The needle punctured her neck, the liquid inside slithering through her body taking its near instantaneous effect.
Sitting at the table with her memory back, daggers of fear cut all throughout her body. She noticed there were two empty chairs each with its own plate setting. The first thought which ran through her frightened mind was that she was going to be eaten. These crazy people had kidnapped her to turn her into their Sunday Evening Dinner. The first course her fingers, then slowly leading to the next course of her hands until they finally made their way to the main meal of the night—her delicious brain of course. All soon available for their tasty delights. She realized there was a plate setting in front of her as well, though, and those horrible thoughts dissipated. Unless, she thought, they wanted to eat her and have her eat herself in the process.
She looked around her body investigating how she was held down to the chair. Both legs were tied with thick, tough rope. Her left arm also meeting the same fate with her wrist tied down. Her right arm, however, was fully free to move around. Realizing this, she grabbed the rope that held down her left hand to break herself free.
“Please don’t do that.”
She turned around to see the woman enter the dining room.
“We’re watching you. Either my husband or I will hurt you if you try something.”
She stopped. “What is this?
“You are invited to have dinner with my husband and me. It’s going to be a very delicious evening. So just calm down and enjoy the good meal we’ve prepared.”
“Is that why my right arm is free?”
The woman nodded. “I’m going to go get the first course. My husband will be in soon.”
Isabelle was now alone, and despite what the woman had said, she knew this may be her only opportunity. She reached over to the tight knot of rope that held down her left wrist and feverishly began to pull. Miraculously, she was able to loosen the knot rather quickly. Feeling a sensation of hope, she pulled hard and the knot opened. Just as she thought her freedom may be in sight, the man that had poked her with the needle grabbed her wrist, swiftly tightening the knot back in its original place.
“Why did you do that? I really don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m sorry,” she said under her breath.
She could see the pain in his face, the shame that encompassed him. He let out a heavy sigh followed by a frown. He grabbed her left pinky.
“What are you doing?” she yelped with fear.
The man winced as if in pain and pulled her pinky finger back. The awful sound of it cracking when he broke it was made more dreadful by the fact that it came from her own finger. There was no pain at first, but as soon as it clicked what had happened, the pain flowed in. She screamed and tears broke across her face.
“Why?” was all that she could say to him.
“Please don’t try anything else,” he said.
The man sat down on the chair adjacent to hers. He shook his head in disdain. After putting himself back together, he turned to her with a smile.
“We’ve got a great meal for you. Just enjoy it.”
She realized she was living one of her greatest fears: To be in a situation she could not control, to be in place she did not know, and to be unsure of how to get herself out of it.
“We’ve prepared a really tasty meal,” the woman said walking into the dining room with three plates of food. “A total of four courses, each one sure to explode your taste buds. I won’t spoil the fun, so each course will be announced as we bring it out. That’s always been our tradition.” The woman let out a smile.
“She tried to escape,” the man said. He motioned toward Isabelle’s broken finger. The woman followed his gaze and displayed disappointment in what she saw.
“OK. Let’s get started,” she said with a half-smile. Isabelle couldn’t deny that the food smelled wonderful. Her stomach actually rumbled when the plate was placed in front of her. She hadn’t had a nice meal in months since moving away from home. There was a small part of her that was excited to eat something home cooked.
“This is our first course of the night: Charred Brussels Sprouts with a chili & lemon glaze. Made by both of us for your satisfaction. Enjoy.”
The woman sat down opposite the man. They both looked at each other and nodded. They began to eat. Isabelle, unsure what to do and also very hungry, watched. As much as she wanted to eat what looked like a delicious appetizer, she couldn’t bring herself to trust it. Even if they were eating off their plate, who was to say hers wasn’t poisoned.
“Why aren’t you eating?” asked the woman.
“I don’t want it,” she said.
“You need to eat it.” The woman sounded pleading, almost desperate.
The man stood up from the table. He frightened her as he moved toward her with his fork in hand. She wondered if he was going to stab her with it. But instead, the fork punctured one of her brussels sprouts. He pushed it into his mouth, chewed it up, and swallowed.
“It’s ok,” he said. “You can trust this food.” In that moment, he emitted a radiance of friendliness. But there was something hidden behind those words, something terrifying. Still, he had eaten the food, and there was the fear of what would happen if she didn’t comply with their wants. She slowly picked up her fork and poked a brussels sprout. She took a bite and swallowed. The taste was fantastic. All the flavors exploded on her tongue. These two knew how to cook.
The three of them ate in silence with only strange and odd stares amongst one another. The feeling in the room was abnormal, and it made Isabelle feel a heft of unease. Thoughts ran through Isabelle’s mind of how she could escape. She wondered what they were thinking, and if they were planning to let her out alive after the meal ended. But she wasn’t going to let the meal end. Somehow, she was going to get out of this hell before that happened. As her thoughts ran on, the plates became empty. After finishing her plate, she felt off in a way that didn’t make sense.
“Well,” the man said breaking the silence. “It looks like we’re all done with the first course.”
The woman collected their plates and left to the kitchen. Within moments she was back. As she walked into the dining room, a new smell encompassed Isabelle. This one better than the previous. She wondered in surprising anticipation what was next on the menu. Placed in front of her was a plate of fried potatoes topped with a mixture of red and white drizzled sauce. The presentation looked immaculate, as if out of a five-star restaurant. In her current situation, though, she couldn’t help but think of blood looking at that red sauce.
“And for our second course, we have Potatoes’ Bravas,” the woman said.
Isabelle looked at the food and said, “Why are we doing this?”
“It used to be our tradition,” the man said. “We’d do it once a month. My wife, myself, and our daughter.” He took a bite of a potato. “Were really great times.”
“Were?”
“Jon, we don’t have to talk to her,” the woman said.
He turned to the woman. “I know. But this silence is worse,” he said and looked back at Isabelle. “I’m sorry. We should have introduced ourselves. My name is Jon, and this is my wife Naomi.”
“Hello. I’m Isabelle,” she said. She began to eat. The taste was exquisite. She loved potatoes, but these were on an entirely different level. They weren’t too hot or too cold, but the perfect warmth to deliver the best taste possible. The drizzled sauce created a symphony of taste that when combined was the best potato she had ever eaten. She couldn’t believe how much she was enjoying it considering she was captured in a stranger’s home unknown to what lie ahead.
“It’s nice to meet you, Isabelle,” Naomi said.
“Anna died last year,” said Jon.
“I’m sorry.”
“So are we,” Naomi said. “Just eat. Let’s make the best of this.”
They ate the second course in uneasy, irregular silence. Despite the wonderful taste of the food, the discomfort in the room was undeniable. After everyone cleaned their plate, Jon stood up. “I’ll grab the main course. Isabelle, this one is going to take a little longer to prepare. Please give me about fifteen minutes or so. I apologize for the extra wait.”
Before leaving to the kitchen, Jon hugged Naomi. They placed their foreheads against each other and looked as if they were about to cry. Isabelle used the opportunity to attempt loosening her knot again. She couldn’t believe her luck when she was able to pull the knot open enough for her to undo the restriction. If she had simply a few more moments, she could undo it. Yet, even if she was able to free her arm, she had no idea how she’d have enough time to untie her legs. She felt paralyzed to the awful situation she was in, but she wasn’t going to give up.
Jon said to Naomi, “Halfway there now.” He left to the kitchen, and Isabelle stopped working the knot immediately.
“Is everything tasting good?” Naomi asked.
“It’s amazing. You’re an incredible cook.”
“Thank you, but it’s both of us. We used to love cooking together and it was always so great to do it for Anna.”
“I’m feeling off,” said Isabelle. She swayed side to side struggling to keep her eyes open. “I, umm, I…” She fell asleep, and her head fell against her shoulder.
Flashes of a young girl that appeared to be the same age stole her dreams. They felt like an infection spreading throughout her body, taking over and becoming host. And then she awoke quickly in a loud gasp. Welcoming her was a new plate of food. As with the others, it smelled amazing. Her tongue salivated, baited and yearning for its taste. It was steak.
“For the main course, we have a Wagyu Steak cooked medium rare and pre-sliced. It’s paired with a side of balsamic roasted baby carrots. I hope the cook is fine for you, Isabelle.”
The three began eating. As she took her first bite, her taste buds erupted in flavor she never knew possible. The steak was exquisite and perfect. She took a bite of the baby carrots which were unsurprisingly incredible as well.
After a few more bites of the gratifying steak, she asked, “What happened to her? Anna?”
“She’s dead. Does it matter how? Why the hell are you asking?” Naomi said, very agitated.
“Naomi,” said Jon.
Realizing her escalation, she calmed herself down. “I’m sorry. I just don’t think us talking is the best idea. Just enjoy the food. And we’ve got the desert baking in the oven as we speak. It’ll taste very good.”
Isabelle decided it wasn’t a good idea to ask any more questions and stuck to only eating her meal. That terrible silence filled the room yet again. The only sounds within it the clanking of silverware and eating of food. Before she knew it, her plate was empty. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t excited to find out what the final course would be. A ding went off indicating that whatever was baking in the oven was now ready.
“Ah! Perfect timing just as we’ve all finished,” said Jon. He collected everyone’s plates and stepped out of the dining room.
She heard Jon in the kitchen preparing their final course, whatever scrumptious desert that may be. It sounded as if he was speaking with someone as he prepared their plates. She was unable to make out what was being said, but it sounded like he was comforting them and excited about something.
“Why did you kidnap me?” she asked Naomi.
“Because you were the first young girl I ran into at the grocery store. I almost didn’t even go through with it, but then you happened to also be parked right next to our car.” Before Naomi could continue, Jon came back in with their dessert. He placed the final plate in front of her.
“And the final course of tonight is Brownie à la Mode.”
The warm chocolatey brownie and cold ice cream that lay before her was sublime. She was actually somewhat sad the meal was coming to its end.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this, Jon,” said Naomi.
He placed their plates down and sat. He took a bite of his brownie.
“We have to,” he said.
Naomi looked at her dessert but shook her head. “No, this isn’t right. We can’t just pick some random girl to die so that we can have Anna back.”
“I thought you wanted our daughter back. This is what we have to do. This is what it said. We have to recreate our tradition and we have to complete it or all of this is for nothing.”
With the two focused on their conversation with one another, Isabelle knew this was the chance she had been hoping for. For a brief fleeting moment, she eyed the brownie, disappointed she would not be able to take a bite. She was sure that as the rest of the meal had been, the brownie would be an explosion of delicious flavor. The blend of warmth from the brownie and cold from the sweet ice cream would have been ambrosial.
“I don’t know if I can go through with this,” Naomi said.
Isabelle slowly took off the lose knot from her left arm and pushed the rope aside. She prayed they wouldn’t notice her.
“I don’t want to either,” said Jon. “But this is for our baby.”
Running on pure desperation and adrenaline, she quietly grabbed the rope that tied her legs and began to pull, thankfully loosening the rope.
“I know,” said Naomi.
Jon walked over to his wife and kissed her lips. He closed his eyes and held his kiss for a moment. “It’s the only way,” he said.
Isabelle broke free, thinking how easy that was, and how thankful she was with how poor a job these two had done tying her up. She leapt from her chair and ran as fast as her legs could take her.
“No!” screamed Jon. “She’s escaping.”
“I told you we should have used duct tape,” Naomi said to Jon.
Soon she was in the kitchen—the kitchen which had made all of those wonderful dishes. To her shock and surprise, a young girl stood next to the stove. This sight would not have been as disturbing, except for the fact that she had no eyes. In place of where eyes should have been, there was only blackness. It appeared that within her face, only emptiness lied within. An empty vessel of a young girl which seemed to contain no soul. At least not yet. Caught off guard, it allowed Jon, who was now in the kitchen with Naomi, an opportunity to grab her arm. She wiggled as hard as possible and with her other arm she used all the might and force within her to punch him. He released her and she ran toward the backdoor. When she attempted to open it, the door was locked and with no way to unlock it without a key. She turned around and ran past her kidnappers and the girl with no eyes, who she now realized resembled the young girl in the photos from the dining room.
“Get her!” screamed Jon.
When she made her way back to the dining room, Isabelle realized the key to her escape was destroying the brownie. She picked up the plate and just as she was about to throw it down against the hard wood floor and smash her boot into it, relishing in its destruction, Naomi yelled, “No, don’t!”
She paused. “Why?”
In that moment Jon tackled Isabelle. The biggest mistake of her life now being the hesitation in destroying the desert. Had she destroyed it then everything would have turned out fine for her. Sometimes all it takes are small moments to ruin everything. Jon’s tackle knocked both of them to the ground. He grabbed the brownie and stuffed it into her mouth. He shoved it down her throat and before she had a chance to refuse, parts of it had already been too far down. She swallowed them reflexively and Jon released her.
She felt a heavy dizziness as if she had been spun around several times. The girl with no eyes walked in, but now she had eyes. “Mom? Dad?” she said.
“Anna.” said Naomi. Water filled her eyes.
“What the hell’s going on?” asked Isabelle.
“I’m sorry, Isabelle,” said Jon. “It’s been taking part of you and rebuilding Anna through our meal. It’s ready to come for the rest now.”
“What’s coming?”
Naomi hugged her daughter tightly and Jon joined in; their family back together.
Isabelle could feel her disorientation growing with each passing second. She had very little control over herself. Nothing felt right. Everything was all wrong. Her vision went double, and she felt sick. She stumbled toward them and the last words that came out of her mouth were,
“But I’m someone’s daughter, too.”
