A Treat after Netball (A Short Story)


A Treat after Netball (A Short Story)

The first time I was offered up what I felt at the time was a plate of vomit, I must have been around twelve or thirteen years old.

The experience began when I came home from school one day after a netball tournament. Mum had promised that I could have sausages and mash for dinner as a treat if we won. As I bounced happily down the street, thinking of our victory and how we had won the against the local school by a whopping 6-0. I was filled with a huge feeling of euphoria and looking forward to my big teatime treat.

When I opened the door to our house that evening, I unleashed a horror that I shall never forget. I was hit by a stench so powerfully pungent and rancid. It caused the saliva in my mouth to instantly create a mold of foamy bitter juices. I put my hand over my mouth and found it hard to suppress the gagging reflexes forcing the urge my body now had to retch. My eyes prickled and filled with tears that felt bulbous, ready to explode out of their sockets.

It was obvious she was in a mood. Dad hadn’t come home again. He was probably out gambling again. I was too scared to say anything and just sat down. I gawped and felt awkward as I shifted in my chair, looking at the offering in front of me; horrified and in disbelief. This wasn’t supposed to be my treat!

She banged down the plate on the table. There was such a force behind her actions that some of the putrid, rank lumps of muck splattered across the table. I felt my whole body recoil in disgust and I froze, not daring to wipe away the blob of flesh that had caught my face. I was contaminated.

I looked down at the pretty pink and chintz flowered plate that had been tainted with something so vile, my first immediate thoughts were that it was something the devil would force down your throat, if you had the misfortune to wind up in the deepest depths of hell. My second thoughts were that I must be in hell.

“What are you waiting for…Christmas? EAT!”

That day was the first time I tried a traditional West Indian specialty; Pigs Trotters served up with soggy rice and limp over-boiled cabbage on the side

A Treat after Netball (A Short Story)



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