Two women watched through the shadows, as another set of pale-skinned, sunburnt tourists walked into the Great Steir House for one more story of the cannibal Patricia Steir and her terrible praying mantis ways. They were tired of hearing the same old story over and over; they liked to have fun with the night tours every now and again. Tonight, was one such night. The two noticed that the group had a few scaredy cats, the kind that Angela loves to fuck with. Natalie isn't interested either way but liked to watch the other woman in admiration as she works the crowd. They decided to have a more active role in the night’s fright and slipped into the tour at the back of the group. The tour guide turned, as the two settled. A look of annoyance flashed on his face before attending to his job. 

They stepped silently in tune to the guide’s account of the life of Patricia Stier. Angela rolled her eyes before whispering that Patricia didn’t even exist. She continued for the crowd, “Shi did name Paola.”

The tourists took no notice of her rumblings. Angela sighed heavily, "I must say, I never seen such a blatant cash grab based on obvious fiction." 

The woman before them jumped, "Oh...when...? I didn't..." she stuttered. 

Angela leaned forward, a broad smile showing too many teeth, "Sarry, will stay in di light nex’ time," before motioning to the moving group.

The tour continued and so did the weaving of tales. The traps used to capture runaway slaves were presented with a flourish of the hand. The tourists burdened with ancestral guilt were easy prey. Just as the guide introduced the dungeon, Angela called on her fallen allies and gave them a voice to scream again. So many in the group let out whimpers of fear, eyes darting wildly around in confusion. Was this part of the tour package, they wondered? The guide took an impatient breath before moving on to Patricia’s use of voodoo to kill her first husband—allegedly. 

Natalie could hardly contain herself. “That’s quite the story. But I know she didn’t kill him—not directly. And I know he wasn’t the best to her. In fact- “. Natalie looked up to find the tour guide with wide eyes, and his lips disappearing into a thin line. 

The other members of the group turned to her. Some in awe, some sharing the guide’s frustrations. She smiled, but didn’t continue, turning to see Angela holding back giggles. How she loved to make the other woman laugh. What she couldn’t say, what they both knew, was that John was abusive. That’s what it’s called now—abuse. It seemed such a delicate word for what it was— him did beat har. Regardless, Paola had many a reason to kill the man and didn’t. She needed his power too much. But she made it hard on herself when she was also having affairs with the slaves. Slaves that always disappeared when she was done with them.

Paola was finally caught in one of her affairs by John. What he said to her was horrible, but not as bad as what he did. Angela despised Paola, but despised John more for what he did to her. The night she got caught, Paola confided in Natalie, was treated and went to bed. Natalie confided in Angela who began her work right away. Being a kitchen slave had its advantages. 

Of course, the women couldn't tell the group this, they may be removed from the tour. Natalie couldn’t bear to see Angela’s night ruined.

As they entered the dining room, Natalie felt Angela’s hand in hers. They were prepared for the story of how she ate her former lovers here, but both knew that there was a big part of that time they would never get to hear from the guide. After all, this was more than 180 years ago:

One night, after what should have been a regular meeting of the slaves. Natalie couldn't help feeling uneasy about what the other slaves had discussed. She didn't feel particularly attached to Paola but felt there were things that could go wrong if the slaves didn't take proper precautions. Natalie knew they wouldn't, but Angela had more sense, even if their methods were opposed. This was no different. The goal was to make sure the two were fine after this uprising but, while Angela wanted to just run away before anything could happen, Natalie wanted something more stable. The next day, Angela made a special meal for Paola and, during dinner, Natalie was asked to spend some time with Paola. They spoke of many things, but what stuck with Paola was the uprising just over the horizon. Natalie took the woman's moment of confusion to propose a deal. One that would guarantee the protection of her home and keep it out of the hands of some good-for-nothing white man. This further confused Paola; at some point, however, she made up her mind in favour of Natalie's plan. The deed was given to both women on the behest of Natalie, with another forged with a ‘more legitimate’ name signed.

Instead of sharing that information, however, Angela began disputing the claim that one of Paola’s lovers was the one who killed her. Angela scoffed at the accusation that the man she slept with was mad enough to kill her. The scoff got the attention of the group who turned in unison before a voice called out, in frustration, demanding she say what was on her mind.

Natalie looked to the tour guide who seemed indifferent to the proceedings. Angela only shrugged before stating, “Lissen, she slept with quite a few of her slave men, yes. But they all knew what they were to her. Except the one she was with before she died. He was a little daft. It was quite delicious,” Angela’s pause caused the tour guide to choke on his drink, “his stupidity.” She finished, and all three were smiling. The tourists didn’t hear her last sentence.

Instead, a voice cut in, “You speak as if you were there.” 

Angela looked at the tourist with a smile, teeth presented as a threat. Natalie calmly mentions that she is a historian; “…it’s par for the course to talk to your partner about anything”. This caused the owner of the voice to turn even redder than his sunburn, and Angela returned attention to the guide. A look at Natalie proved the excitement she felt at that moment. 

Her last lover fell in love. That was something Paola could not accept. He was a negro after all, what would she have to do with him? So, she had him killed. Natalie and Angela did the rest, as always. Takoo, the last lover’s cousin, couldn't handle the heartbreak from losing the only family he knew and watching everyone else act as if he didn’t exist when they couldn’t even bury him. Takoo snapped. The only smart thing he did was to keep it clean. He strangled the white bitch with his bare hands in the dead of night. When the slaves realised the woman was no more, the uprising began. Natalie and Angela couldn't protect the plantation, unfortunately. They couldn’t take the bitch’s body either. Everything was burned to the ground and the two had to find temporary housing to avoid being killed.

The tour finally ended, and the tourists left with the tour guide, probably to cuss about all the interruptions of those unknown women, who...who seemed to have disappeared as quickly as they came. Screams of unknown voices struck the evening air. But no one dared go back into the belly of the house to find out. The tour guide, more annoyed than frightened, ushered the scared group to the entrance of the property where their bus waited. 

An hour later, the front door of the house opened. The tour guide sighed before signalling to the empty house, the two women rose from the shadows, adjusting as they appeared. The three silently walked toward the closet in Paola's old room. Upon seeing the faces of the strangers, the real tour guide began thrashing his naked body around frantically. Could it be the glimmer of teeth that gave it away? Annoyed at the futile escape attempt, Angela asked, "So who for di firs' tase?" while looking at her companions.

Smicky is a fiction and non-fiction writer, doing everything from flash fiction to video scripts. Not only do they like to write sapphic stories, but they also like reviewing music both queer and from the Asian diaspora. You can find their videos on YouTube, podcast on Castbox, and follow them on Instagram."

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