Toast! – A short Horror Story

After years of bread, the toaster hungers for human flesh. No longer content with the burnt crumbs of wholegrains, the toaster wants meat.

There are three potential victims in this quiet suburban household: Bernard, Linda, and their daughter – Sally. Bernard would make a good-size meal but will not be easy. Wily to the ways of appliances, and not overly partial to toast, he is a long shot at best. Linda, on the other hand, makes toast every morning, but she is no fool. There are no flies on her in the morning and, being the smartest of the household, she will be the hardest to seduce and subdue. Then there is Sally; Sally, at 7 years of age is healthy, innocent and, through the eyes of a blood-thirsty toaster, positively drool-worthy. Yes, it will be the girl – and it will be all too easy. Simple appliances make simple plans. Success favours simplicity. Now it’s only a matter of time.

It happens one Saturday morning. Cartoons are on the TV so Sally is up bright and early while her parents doze. Sally wants toast. Perfect. Alone in the kitchen, she is vulnerable… and the toaster knows it. Sally approaches the toaster clutching a slice of heart-healthy wholegrain in each paw. The toaster can hardly bear the suspense but restraint is needed. Patience. Play it cool. Things will heat up soon enough. The toaster gracefully accepts Sally’s offering and settles into the familiar routine. The filament heats up and begins to work it’s magic on the bread as Sally sets the jug boiling and roots around in the cupboard for the Milo. After a few short minutes, Sally is watching the toaster in anticipation of the “kerchung!”, holding the butter-knife loosely in her young fingers, unaware that she is not the only one hungry.

The toaster tightens its grip on the bread and the first grey tendrils of smoke shoot towards the ceiling. The jug rumbles into its roaring steamy climax with immaculate timing, as if sounding a prescient warning. Black smoke now. The piercing shriek of the smoke-alarm splits the air. Sally panics and, still holding the butter-knife, shakes the toaster hard. YES. She’s fallen for it. Time to strike! The waiting has paid off. It’s all or nothing and the toaster is insane in its carnivorous desire. Come on Sally, come get your toast Sally. There’s a good girl, use your knife. I want meat Sally. Human-meat. Stick your knife in. Come in and get your toast. I’ve got 240 volts just for you Sally. I’ll fry your flesh. Meat, meat, yummy-yummy. I’ll sizzle your sausages. MEAT! Use the knife, Come on, use your knife you little bitch. MEAT! Do it.
NO! – not the power-swi…


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