Tristan Robert Lange

Heart of Deception

There were four of us in the room that evening awaiting the chief, who had called us in to discuss something that had to be weighty to draw the likes of us. Aside from me, a detective, there was a medical examiner, a specialist from forensics, and a shrink. Whatever this was about, it had to be far more serious than the average stolen car or neighborly complaint.

The door swung open forcefully as the chief entered the room. In her hands, a package of some sort; on her face, a grimace of concern that she was about to share with us.

“I have assembled you here because we received this package today,” the chief said, plopping the cardboard cube down on the table before us with a thud. Its contents sounded dense as the box landed on the surface. “You will make note of the return address as it is that old, abandoned house over on Lincoln Avenue where that tranny lived.”

At that moment, without another second’s hesitation,

the chief pulled out a pocketknife and began to open it

slowly, cautiously. The packing tape was no match for

the sharp blade,

which sliced it open

with zero effort—

first down the cen-

ter, and then a-

long the sides,

so that the lips

of the box top

burst loose and slight-

ly opened. Instantly,

the most wretched and wretch-inducing odor emitted

from the partially opened lid, the cube’s contents hid-

den inside by shadows that caused an indomitable

dread to settle upon all of us who were there to witness.

The medical examiner proceeded with wary caution as he peeled back the box lids, first the outer lids, followed slowly by the interior lid which opened perpendicular to the first. The nauseating smell of decay and rotting blood grew even stronger, so strong that we all began to wretch and cover our mouths.

“Holy fuck, that shit stinks,” I exclaimed! “Christ, what the hell’s in that thing?!”

The chief’s hands grabbed the lids while the medical examiner slowly, queasily reached in and delicately lifted the contents out of the box.

As his

gloved hands

emerged from the

box, we all could not-

ice, clearly, the brown-

ish-red, clotted blood

stains and thick, syrupy

drippings from what ap-

peared to be a half-

eaten human heart

that must have

been rotting for

several days.

Its gruesome

sight was

shocking

to say

the

lea-

st.

drip

The sound hit me like a stone.

drop

The horrible horror of the dripping half-heart.

drip

It was dead, yet determined to have a rhythm,

drop drip

Through the death-sap of this once

living

heart.

Half-eaten, but by whom?

Could we have even presumed?

Besides, its wretched perfume

Was Too potent

For steadiness to resume?

drop…drip

The sound was starting to slip

Inside all our mesmerized minds,

Like a closing of the blinds

On our own sanity.

Yet, regardless of the profanity,

Everything I screamed

Seemed to be pure vanity.

Nothing I did mattered.

We were together, yet alone.

That is when the atmosphere in the room turned devilishly dark, not in color but in malevolent mood; the medical examiner, to all our own dismay, took the partially eaten pump and raised it to what transformed into his monstrous mouth. Indescribably, he began to blatantly bite into the half-eaten organ, devouring it as a delicious delicacy. The gruesomely gory gluttony ended abruptly, the monster resembling the examiner stood before us, his face covered in blood, giving him quite the putrid pallor. Its eyes aglow with zombified zeal and horrendous hunger, it looked toward us as with evil. Dead. But alive.

Its head turned, twisted, and then looked at us.
“You,” it hissed while pointing at our own chief,

“You are the reason this act has been done.”
Its head turned, twisted, and then looked at me,
As if I had some awful part to play.

“Your li\'l chief is quite the bad, evil bitch!
“She is the reason this act has been done.”
Its head turned, twisted, and then looked away;
The blood left my face an ashen pallor,

As if I knew the awful part at play.
“Your chief here is quite bad, evil, it’s true!”
Its head turned, twisted, and then eyed the shrink;
“She caused this act by neglecting the weak.”
The ash left my face a bony pallor.

“But, beyond her job, it’s how she did me.”
I wasn’t sure I knew its awful play;
“Your evil, nasty chief shot me right through!”
Its head turned, twisted, and then looked her way,
“She caused this act by neglecting her love.”
The bone left my face a jelly feeling,

As I began to see my chief\'s own guilt.
“Fuck her job! It’s how she left me!”
I was now sure I knew Chief’s dreadful play;
“Your evil, badass chief killed me, right true!
“She caused this act by murdering her love.”
The jelly left my face painfully reeling;
Its head turned, twisted, and looked back my way.

“She wanted me to tell of our romance,”
I could hear the guilt in Chief\'s shaky voice.
I could now see my ill chief’s awful play!
The bad, evil chief cold-hearted killed her.
“The Chief caused this so I ate half my heart”
I’m sure my face showed the light revealing
As its head twisted, and then hissed these words,
“You are next,” while pointing the pale chief\'s way.

=============

BREAKING NEWS: Police Chief Indicted for Gruesome Murder in Shocking Case

CITY HALL – In a stunning development, the metropolitan police chief has just been indicted today on charges of first-degree murder of her secret female lover in a case that has completely shocked and torn apart a community. The chief, known for her vehement crusade against members of the LGBTQ+ community, particularly targeting those who claimed to be other than their biological gender. Once promising to “put an end to the leftist woke agenda to destroy traditional values in the city”, the chief is now embroiled in what appears to be a case of major hypocrisy. We’ll keep you updated as the story unfolds.