The Easter Bunny

Easter. The time of rebirth and rejoicing.

The howl of the hound behind him quickened, his feet moving. He bounced over a rock, running pell-mell across the slippery bayou. When the scent-hounds quieted, the Easter Bunny gave himself a moment to wait out their pursuit, hiding behind the trunk of a mighty tree.

He leaned back on his haunches. His fur sitting on end with his back pressed against the tree, trying to calm himself. With a size advantage, the Easter Bunny needed only to find a nook or den to wait them out. The hounds would lose his scent across the water and he would be free to continue his work.

The hounds cried out; they were back on his trail and racing towards their quarry. The Bunny had one chance to evade them and sprinted towards the murky waters.

The freezing waters chilled his feet as the water seeped into his dense, plushy coat. The water was weighing him down. Each kick slowed him, feeling the pressure of the hunt and the force of the water. The dogs were sniffing around the tree. In a moment, they would come to the water’s edge, and he needed to be out of sight when they did.

He cut across, heading back to land, ducking behind a long tuft of yellow grass. The hounds seemed confused at the water, glancing about over the lake for signs of a ripple. The Easter Bunny was lucky. The wind was on his side today, obfuscating his trail through the water.

Calmly, the Bunny hopped towards the trees, eager to find rest. There was a small gap under knotted tree roots, barely wide enough for the hefty bunny. But it would hide him long enough to get out of his wet clothes.

He squeezed inside, his springy back rubbing against the mighty roots. Signs of life remained. The site of a rabbit warren, an old one with patches of fur brushed around. Large claw marks alerted him. These rabbits had seen their end to those hounds, he thought as he shed his green vest, hanging it over a root.

It took the Easter Bunny no time at all to fall asleep

He woke hearing rumblings and clinking outside the warren. Groggy from hindered sleep, the Easter Bunny popped his head out through the exposed roots. A metal plate clunked under his foot and a steel gate snapped shut behind him.

Panicked, the Bunny bolted forward, hitting his head against the steel gate. Grim laughter followed, slinking out from behind a tree. A large woman sporting thick rubber boots and a wide-brimmed hat. Her front teeth missing from her vile grin, dirt encrusting each of her many wrinkles. Grey straw-like hair standing on end, obscuring her beady, dark eyes.

Without his iconic green vest, the Easter Bunny appeared as an ordinary rabbit.

This rabbit was chunky, larger than most bucks, old Nel thought to herself, weighing the cage in her firm grip.

After a short hike through the ankle-deep and stinking waters, Nel kicked open the door to her wooden house, flicked off her boots with some trouble, and dropped the cage onto the unsteady table. Nel wasn’t hunting rabbit, but when the opportunity revealed itself, she had no objections laying the trap while the dumb critter rested inside.

Her dogs stalked outside, waiting to eat the leftovers of her meal. They did well today, tracked that fat rabbit further than most. Something about it must have smelled extra good. The dogs wouldn’t give up the chase.

Old Nel needed to prepare the rabbit. It had been a while since she had rabbit stew. With her large hands, Nel tilted the cage up, so the rabbit fell against the back. It scrambled to right itself as Nel peeled open the cage and reached inside. It spun around, making Nel’s job easier, grabbing it by the scruff and pulling it out of the cage. The creature wouldn’t relent, kicking and screaming as Nel pinned him down.

Squirming and bleating, the rabbit pulled free of her grasp and tried to leap from the table. Nel was faster than she appeared, snatching it up midair and dangling the rabbit by its back legs. Its continued fussing frustrated Nel as she wrapped her hand around its neck, pulling it backwards and down until feeling the softest crack through her thumb. The rabbit went limp in her hands. Next, she needed to skin it and prepare its meat.

Skinning is much like pulling off a sock. Holding the skin taut, Nel slid her knife inside enough to puncture the skin, placing her fingers inside and tugging to tear the skin from the flesh underneath.

The meat seemed off. Instead of a healthy red colour, fresh and ripe with blood, this rabbit’s meat was dark brown and spongy. Curious, old Nel took her knife and cut deep into the flesh. The knife slid in so easily she forgot she was dealing with a rabbit. She cut into its haunch, separating layers where muscle would be and blood would spill. Instead, only a sweet brown liquid oozed, and the muscle instead seemed more like cake.

Hypnotised by the oddity that her dogs had found, old Nel continued the process, gutting and cutting the cakey meat into chunks. It crumbled to the touch but oozed with creamy chocolate. It had been so long since old Nel had cake. Her tummy rumbled, eager to try the sweet dessert.

She took its rear leg in her hands, pieces tumbling back onto the table, and shoved it into her mouth. The taste was refreshing, cold and soft. It dissolved in her mouth without needing to chew. So light and sweet. She had never had cake this rich and delicate before.

Gluttony consumed her. It took old Nel mere minutes to finish picking away at the rabbit’s chocolatey carcass like a starved vulture. The white bones snapped as she tore apart the chest, scooping out the remaining organs and grinding her teeth on the ribcage just to get the last speck of crumbs.

Outside, her two dogs howled. They could smell her meal and sat at the door, waiting for their share. Old Nel had no intention of letting them have her food. Gripped with insatiable hunger, she chewed on the bones. The marrow inside, clear yet unmistakable in its taste of chocolate frosting.

Nell fell back into her chair as she tossed aside the last bone picked clean. Gooey sauce dripped down her face. She couldn’t care less. Full and bloated, Nell leaned back and unbuckled her belt.

A shiver ran through her as rumbles erupted from her stomach, heavy with cake and sauce. The vibrations tore at her insides. Nel shoved herself from her chair, falling onto her hands and knees, groaning as waves of intense pain flooded her body.

Crippled, old Nel crawled across the hardwood floor, trying to reach the door. Her dogs threw themselves at the door, barking and howling, hearing their master screaming in pain.

Nel rolled onto her back, her fingers gliding through her tough hair and clamping down as she wailed. Within minutes, her skin shed, sloughing off like an old wound, and exposing her rosy flesh underneath. Hair sprouted across her entire body, growing dense and packed like fur. Nel coughed, hacking up specks of blood. No, not blood. She was coughing up chocolate sauce. It blocked her airways, suffocating her. Wheezing as her chest compressed. Nel watched as her ribcage tightened and extended, protruding under her clothes. Her lungs squashed together, shrinking and shoving her heart aside as the rest of her body contorted, altering her very shape and form.

It became quiet inside old Nel’s home. Both dogs, nervous from the lack of sounds, had run around to the back where the kitchen window left ajar to let the smell of blood and guts out. The first dog hopped up, digging its snout under the window and rotating its head to pry it open wider. Once she could fit her head through, she scrambled to get the rest of her body in. Her slender body allowed her to slink in, landing in the sink, then jumping down onto the floor. The second dog followed. He was much larger than his sister, but her work to open the window gave him an easier time.

She waited for him to follow her with their noses to the ground and entered the living room splattered with the sickly sweet smell of chocolate. Old Nel’s shed clothes spread out across the floor, alongside sheets of dried, wrinkled skin and the remains of Nel’s grey, straw-like hair.

Pressed up against the door, a large brown rabbit, not unlike the one they helped their master catch earlier, frozen in fear. Sitting on its haunches, the dogs watched its tiny heart punching hard through its chest. Its eyes darted across the room. The dogs knew it would make a break for it. But this rabbit was slow and clumsy, unable to find grip with its fluffy paws on old Nel’s polished floorboards. It took no time for the dogs to corner it, one of them clamping down hard on its neck and shaking without remorse until the critter went limp in its maw.

The dog dropped the rabbit, falling to the floor with a heavy thud.

Dinner at last, both dogs thought. Within moments, the hounds tore the rabbit apart, feasting on the spongy insides. It tasted far different to other rabbits they had, but the smell was too enticing for them to stop now.