cannibals shoes

He moves with shadows, the rain pelts down on his top hat.
The weather seems to be rather gloomy especially for an English winter evening. Spent engine oil and frost increase the danger of walking on the sidewalk. Never mind because he doesn’t walk, a person of his stature doesn’t walk like a mere mortal, he glides through the passages and alleys of central London searching for a taste.
You might be wondering what someone of this magnitude eats? Caviar, truffles or Kobe beef. No ,no, my friends, a person like Michael eats meat, real meat, human meat.
It all started as a wily youth. Having grown up in a war-torn town in Poland. Food was obviously scares. Bombs and bullets rained down on the small town known as Vilna. Michaels father Jan Kavalski was a metal worker, his job was destroyed in the same fashion as the work house he operated in, it kind of just ran its course and then when the Germans invaded, the need to keep the job became too much of a risk for Jan, he did have a family to feed and a house to keep but it just wasn’t worth risking his life.
One freezing cold morning, the last potato had been consumed. The children cried, the wife cried harder. Desperation to hold and Jan left the small house in search of a solution to feed his starving family. Many different plans of robbery and even murder ran through Jan’s troubled mind, a solution had to be there. Finally Jan caught a scent that at the time seemed like the sweetest scent he ever remembered smelling, his nose gave him the direction and he followed the snowy path towards an old, what seemed to be abandoned house. He crept up towards a broken window, still in a daze from the fine aroma that was suffocating his senses.
He peered through the window and to his surprise he sees a young boy no older than his youngest son Michael, sitting next to a fire. The young lad had a bird of some sort wedged onto a stick, the stick was being pocked in and out of a flames. The need to eat was overwhelming, Jan burst through the door and to his amazement the youngster didn’t even flinch, he sat still peering into the fire as if he was in a trance. Jan made up the space between the door and the fire in three large strides. He spoke to the boy in his native tongue and again the child didn’t move, answer or seem to hear him. No-one was around and Jan knew that overpowering the child would be simple. He snatched the stick, bird combo. And so the scuffle began. The child had a feverish desire much like Jans, he bit, clawed and shouted deep into the winter night. Jan’s size and weight was just too much for the small boy, he was thrown aside and in a terrible outcome, he lay on top of the smoldering coals. Jans back was towards the child, like rabies infected dog, Jan consumed the small amount of meat left on the bird. Once he was done, he seemed to slip back into the reality of the cold night. He turned around looking for the boy and then he saw the grim situation he had caused, the small boy had been burned beyond recognition, the smell of burning flesh flooded his nostrils. Just then the puzzle came together.
That night and for many nights after, Jan and his now plump family ate, not only did they eat, they ate well. One of the only families in Poland at the time to eat meat at every meal.
Michael smiled as he searched for the taste he so desired. His gaze left the path he was walking down and just for that moment, the frost coupled with a slope and Michael was on his back. He had ever fallen from frost before; he had grown up with snow and frost. As he lay there he put his feet up and realized the problem… his new shoes.