The Midnight Feast

by Rachel Grifno

We find him sleeping on the family’s feathers. Most are crushed under his weight, but others flutter in the winter storm. We can smell them—all the adults slain and broiled by the monster himself. We had all feared his bloodlust, but none had known his strength.

Now, he sleeps, twice as big as the rest of us. Blood has dried on his white underbelly, like a red tie. Hanging in his slumbering beak are bits of penguin meat. His own family, ours.

We survivors wait under cover of night. Anger shakes our cores, driving us to action.

We are hungry too.

Rachel Grifno

 Rachel Grifno is a journalist and teacher based out of Washington, DC. This is her first fiction piece, but she has journalism work in Bethesda Magazine, Chesapeake Family Life, and others.