A Short Story from Existential Fred

  The scent of seasoned pork, frying pntains, and simmering rice and beans drifted through the cool Beaverton air, seeping through the cracks of the front door, wrapping around Fred like a memory. He inhaled deeply, letting the familiar mix of spices and nostalgia settle into his bones.

  "Smells like childhood trauma and love."

  Beside him, Ben snorted. "So, home?"

  Fred smirked. "Exactly."

  Before either of them could knock, the door swung open violently.

  "Pitit mwen!" (My child!)

  Fred barely had time to brace before Natasha Ribeaut unched herself at him, wrapping him in a hug so tight his ribs reconsidered their existence.

  "Ma—need… air—" Fred wheezed.

  Natasha ignored him, patting his back repeatedly, like she was burping a particurly rge infant. "Mwen manke ou anpil!" (I missed you so much!)

  Fred loved his mother.

  He also suspected she was trying to realign his spine.

  Ben stood off to the side, biting his lip, barely containing his ughter.

  Before Fred could escape, a new challenger approached.

  "Gwo frè mwen!" (Big bro!)

  Fred turned just in time to see Jay-Jay barreling toward him.

  "No, NO, NO—"

  Impact.

  Fred staggered back as his 21-year-old, gym-going, college-football-pying little brother hit him with the force of a linebacker.

  "Jay! Damn it—why are you built like a Marvel superhero now?"

  Jay-Jay grinned. "College meal pns, bro. Also, the gym."

  Fred gave him a once-over, unimpressed. "Traitor."

  Jay-Jay just ughed before yanking Ben into a bro hug. "Yo, Ben! My future brother-in-w!"

  Ben, caught mid-hug, turned scarlet. "We’re not engaged."

  Jay-Jay shrugged, grinning. "Yet."

  Fred groaned. "You’re a menace."

  Natasha beamed. "Mwen kontan nou ! Antre, manje pare." (I'm happy you're here! Come in, the food is ready.)

  Ben, always polite, smiled warmly. "Thank you, Ma. It smells amazing."

  Fred followed everyone inside, instinctively bracing for chaos.

  He was right to do so.

  Inside, the house hadn’t changed.

  The walls were lined with family photos.

  - Fred as a toddler, looking mildly annoyed.- Fred and Jay-Jay in matching pajamas, both covered in cake.- A framed photo of Natasha in her twenties, radiant and full of life.- A recent one of Fred and Ben, arms wrapped around each other, ughing.

  Fred felt something tighten in his chest.

  He didn’t say anything.

  But Ben caught the look on his face and squeezed his hand.

  Jay-Jay smirked. "You getting emotional, big bro?"

  Fred cleared his throat. "Shut up and go help Ma."

  Jay-Jay chuckled but joined Natasha in the kitchen.

  Fred followed, rolling up his sleeves. "Alright, what needs doing?"

  Natasha immediately handed him a pntain smasher. "Ou sonje kijan ou te toujou ap eseye vòlè griot?" (Remember how you were always trying to steal the griot?)

  Fred smirked. "Ma, I was a child. I had no self-control."

  Jay-Jay snorted. "You still don’t."

  Fred flicked a pntain at him.

  Ben, meanwhile, set the table with careful precision. He id out the good china, arranging the ptes, dish mats, and silverware, pcing the bottle of Cremas they had brought at the center.

  Everything was perfectly normal.

  Then—

  Fred saw something moving in the kitchen wall.

  At first, it was just a dark stain, like a shadow pooling in the corner.

  Then it stretched, expanding, unfurling like ink seeping through water.

  Then—fingers emerged, curling along the cabinets.

  Fred’s stomach dropped.

  A head formed.

  Too tall. Too thin.

  A mouth—a bck abyss, stretching wider than it should.

  Then—

  It inhaled deeply.

  "This… smells… exquisite…"

  Fred closed his eyes.

  He was so tired.

  Jay-Jay kept stirring the pot.

  Ben was humming as he folded napkins.

  Natasha—

  Turned. Saw it.

  And immediately grabbed her Bible.

  "Jezikri, pitit Bondye a, mwen rebouke ou!" (Jesus Christ, Son of God, I rebuke you!)

  Fred’s entire soul tried to escape his body.

  "Ma—please."

  Natasha was already flicking holy water.

  "Ou pa gen ps isit ! Kite kay mwen!" (You have no pce here! Leave my house!)

  The entity flinched, but mostly looked confused.

  Fred pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ma. That’s not a demon."

  Natasha ignored him, chanting louder.

  The entity stared longingly at the pot of rice and beans.

  Fred could see it now. It wasn’t here for them—it was here for the food.

  "I… I have never smelled such divinity… May I…?"

  Fred pointed at it. "See? It’s just hungry."

  Natasha narrowed her eyes. "Satan manti!" (Satan lies!)

  Ben, barely holding in ughter, whispered: "Your mom is so serious right now."

  The stand-off sted too long.

  Then—

  Jay-Jay, leaning on the counter, casually said: "What if we just… let it try some griot?"

  Fred snapped to him. "Excuse me??"

  Natasha whipped her head around. "Jay-Jay, NO!"

  Jay-Jay shrugged. "I mean, if it likes it, maybe it'll leave?"

  Fred and Natasha both gred.

  Ben, whispering to Fred: "Your brother is way too chill about this."

  Fred exhaled aggressively, grabbed a piece of griot, and held it out like an offering.

  The entity’s trembling fingers reached forward.

  Took it.

  Pced it into… something resembling a mouth.

  Silence.

  Then—

  Its entire body shuddered.

  Its many limbs twitched.

  Its form flickered, vibrating as if experiencing divine revetion.

  Then, in a voice full of reverence and absolute humility, it whispered:

  "…I am unworthy…"

  Natasha paused.

  Fred exhaled so hard his soul nearly left his body.

  Jay-Jay grinned. "So… it tastes good, huh?"

  The stand-off stretched into an excruciating silence—the kind of silence where something ridiculous was about to happen.

  Fred could feel it in his bones.

  Then—

  Jay-Jay, leaning on the counter like this was a completely normal Tuesday, casually said, "What if we just… let it try some griot?"

  Fred’s head snapped so fast it nearly gave him whipsh. "Excuse me??"

  Natasha’s entire being stiffened. "Jay-Jay, NO!"

  Jay-Jay, ever the agent of chaos, shrugged. "I mean, if it likes it, maybe it'll leave?"

  Fred and Natasha both gred.

  Ben, who had been silently enjoying Fred’s misery the entire time, leaned in and whispered: "Your brother is way too chill about this."

  Fred sighed. The kind of sigh that carried the weight of a thousand lifetimes of bullshit.

  He reached for a piece of griot, holding it out like an offering.

  The entity hesitated, its many fingers twitching.

  Then—trembling, reverent—it reached forward.

  Gently.

  Delicately.

  It took the griot as if it were receiving communion.

  Fred, at this point, barely invested in reality, just waited.

  The entity lifted the griot to something resembling a mouth.

  Pced it inside.

  Chewed.

  And then—

  Its entire form convulsed.

  A shuddering tremor rippled through its elongated limbs.

  Its body flickered, vibrating like a radio signal trying to tune into the correct dimension.

  For a horrifying moment, it looked as if it might implode.

  Then, in a voice thick with awe and utter spiritual revetion, it whispered:

  "…I am unworthy…"

  Natasha froze mid-Bible verse.

  Fred exhaled so hard his soul nearly left his body.

  Jay-Jay grinned, pleased with himself. "So… it tastes good, huh?"

  The entity slowly lowered itself to its knees, bowing its grotesque, shadowy form toward the table.

  "This… this is not food. This is… ascension."

  Fred stared bnkly.

  Jay-Jay looked at the pte. "Bro, it’s just pork."

  The entity twitched violently. "Just… pork? JUST… PORK?!"

  It let out a sound—not quite a shriek, not quite a sob. Somewhere between ecstasy and despair.

  Fred closed his eyes. This was his life now.

  Ben, who had been entirely too entertained by this, leaned into Fred’s shoulder. "Babe. Babe. You made an eldritch horror have a religious experience with fried pork. That’s incredible."

  Fred groaned. "I didn’t do anything. Ma’s cooking did."

  Natasha straightened, still suspicious, but slightly intrigued.

  The entity clutched its many hands to its non-existent chest, still shaking.

  "I have traveled countless dimensions. I have consumed the essence of dying stars. I have feasted upon the marrow of forgotten gods. I have unraveled the threads of existence itself."

  It took another bite, shuddered violently, and then whimpered.

  "And yet… nothing has ever touched my soul like this."

  Fred poked at his rice, entirely checked out.

  "Yeah, yeah. Welcome to Haitian cooking. Get in line."

  Jay-Jay ughed, spping Fred’s back. "Come on, bro, this is a historical moment! You’re making peace with interdimensional beings through the power of griot!"

  Ben leaned closer, resting his chin on Fred’s shoulder. "Babe. Babe. We just solved cosmic horror with seasoning."

  Fred groaned, pressing his forehead against the table.

  "This is why I have anxiety."

  PROLOGUE END