Microfiction Three Line Tales: Meat shop

Rebloged, sadly not on the main topic “3 Line Tales”, but on whether we have the right to choose what we eat, and how it is, or might be impacting on the survival of the world as we know it. Please read the comments, thank you.

With much respect to all what ever your creed, religion, faith, or God maybe.
Mick

Jane Dougherty Writes

For Sonya’s Three Line Tales prompt.

photo by Cathal Mac an Bheatha via Unsplash

tltweek60

Behind the plate glass and the white coat, the shiny knives and the polished glass refrigerated cases, lies the meat.

Slabs and slices of flesh, dismembered, wings, legs, thighs, heads, ears, vital organs lie in clinical display, and in the publicity posters on the walls, lambs gambol, pigs grin cheekily and cartoon cows munch buttercups.

Behind the heavy doors at the back, where the carcasses hang in silence, ghosts linger in the cold air, and when the butcher opens the doors, with a flourish of his apron and his ghastly smile, you can hear a faint cry of terror and pain, if you listen.

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