The Toppings are Screaming

Jason hated his new job at Slice of Heaven Pizzeria. Something about the place didn’t sit right with him. Maybe it was the eerie silence in the kitchen despite how busy they always seemed. Maybe it was the overly cheerful owner, Mr. Carver, whose grin never quite reached his eyes. Or maybe it was the smell—a coppery tang that lingered in the air, stronger than any garlic or pepperoni.

Still, the pay was decent, and Jason needed the money.

It was nearing midnight when Mr. Carver handed him a special order.

“Take this to the basement,” Carver said, sliding the box across the counter. His grin widened unnaturally. “Careful not to spill. It’s… fresh.”

Jason frowned. “The basement? Who orders pizza to the basement?”

“Just follow the instructions,” Carver said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And don’t look inside the box.”

Jason hesitated but nodded, tucking the box under his arm. As he made his way to the basement stairs, the usual chatter of the kitchen seemed to die entirely. The pizzeria felt empty, almost suffocating.

The door to the basement was heavy, creaking loudly as Jason pushed it open. The stairwell descended into darkness, lit only by a faint red glow at the bottom. Jason’s pulse quickened with every step. The air grew colder, and that metallic smell hit him harder than ever.

“Just drop it off and leave,” he whispered to himself.

At the bottom of the stairs, Jason found a long, dimly lit hallway lined with steel doors. Some were slightly ajar, and the sounds from within made his stomach churn—soft sobbing, muted screams, and a wet, rhythmic squelching.

“Hello?” Jason called out, his voice trembling. “I’ve got your pizza.”

No answer. The hallway seemed to stretch forever, but the faint sound of clinking chains drew him toward one of the open doors. Against his better judgment, Jason peeked inside.

The room was small, lit by a single, swinging bulb. A figure hunched over a metal table, its back to Jason. It looked human… mostly. But its arms were too long, its movements too jerky.

On the table lay a mass of something unrecognizable—raw, glistening, and twitching. The figure was slicing it into pieces with a butcher knife, humming a low, off-key tune.

Jason’s breath caught in his throat when one of the slices began to scream.

The figure froze and turned slowly. Its face was a grotesque mask of stitched-together flesh, its eyes burning with unnatural light. Jason stumbled back, nearly dropping the box.

“Fresh delivery?” the creature rasped, stepping toward him. Its voice was wet and guttural, like it was speaking through a mouthful of blood.

Jason bolted, clutching the pizza box as he ran down the hallway. Behind him, doors slammed open, and inhuman shapes spilled out. They chased him with inhuman shrieks, their grotesque limbs twisting and snapping as they moved.

Jason burst into the main basement room, a cavernous space dominated by a massive industrial oven. The heat was unbearable, and the walls were lined with shelves of jars—each containing something alive. Fingers twitched, eyes blinked, and mouths silently screamed from inside the glass.

In the center of the room stood Mr. Carver, his grin wider than ever.

“You weren’t supposed to see this,” Carver said, shaking his head. “But I suppose it was inevitable. You’ve been such a valuable employee, Jason.”

Jason backed away, heart pounding. “What the hell is this place? What are you putting in the food?”

Carver chuckled. “Our secret ingredient, of course. A little bit of humanity adds flavor.” He gestured to the jars. “Fear, pain, despair—they season the meat. And the madness? That’s just a side effect.”

Jason felt bile rise in his throat. “You’re insane.”

Carver tilted his head, his grin twisting into something darker. “No, Jason. I’m a visionary. And tonight… you’re on the menu.”

The lights flickered, and Jason felt a sharp pain in his leg. Looking down, he saw a disembodied hand clawing at him, its nails digging deep. He kicked it away and made a break for the stairs, but the creatures were closing in.

The pizza box slipped from his grasp, tumbling to the floor and bursting open. Inside was a mass of raw flesh, pulsing and screaming in agony. Jason gagged, his vision swimming.

As he reached the stairwell, Carver’s voice echoed behind him.

“Don’t worry, Jason! Your contribution will make our best pizza yet!”

Jason scrambled up the stairs, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t stop running until he was in his car, peeling out of the parking lot and leaving the cursed pizzeria behind.

The next morning, the news reported another surge of madness in town. Customers of Slice of Heaven were seen raving in the streets, their faces contorted in terror. The pizzeria itself was gone, as if it had never existed.

Jason sat in his apartment, trembling. He could still hear the screams from the toppings, their agonized cries echoing in his mind.

He knew it was only a matter of time before they found him again.