It was a typical Wednesday evening when John stumbled upon the small, quaint deli on the corner of Main Street. The sign above the door read “Mae’s Delights,” and the aroma wafting out was irresistible. John’s stomach growled as he pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The deli was dimly lit, with only a few patrons scattered about. John approached the counter, where an elderly woman with a kind smile greeted him. “Welcome to Mae’s, dear. What can I get for you?”
John scanned the menu, his eyes settling on the “Signature Sandwich.” “I’ll try that one, please,” he said, handing over his money.
The woman, Mae, expertly assembled the sandwich and handed it to John. He took a bite, and his eyes widened in astonishment. The flavors danced on his tongue – the tender bread, the savory meats, the tangy cheese, and the hint of sweetness from the caramelized onions. It was, without a doubt, the best sandwich John had ever tasted.
But as he continued to savor the sandwich, a creeping sense of unease settled in. The flavors seemed to shift, becoming almost… otherworldly. John’s mind began to spin with questions. Who was this Mae, and what secrets did she hold in her kitchen?
Determined to uncover the truth, John finished his sandwich and approached Mae. “This is, without a doubt, the best sandwich I’ve ever had,” he said, trying to contain his excitement. “Who made it?”
Mae’s smile faltered for a moment, and she glanced around the deli nervously. “I did,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s not just me. You see, I have a… helper in the kitchen.”
John’s curiosity was piqued. “A helper? What do you mean?”
Mae leaned in, her eyes glinting with a knowing spark. “Come back tonight, after closing. I’ll show you.”
John’s heart racing, he nodded and left the deli. As the sun dipped below the horizon, he returned to Mae’s, his mind reeling with possibilities.
As he entered the deli, Mae greeted him, her eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. “Follow me,” she said, leading John into the kitchen.
The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of cooking oil and something else… something sweet and decaying. John’s stomach churned as Mae revealed a figure standing in the shadows.
It was a woman, her skin deathly pale, her eyes black as coal. She was stirring a massive pot, the contents of which seemed to shift and writhe like living things.
“This is my helper,” Mae said, her voice dripping with reverence. “She’s been with me for… a very long time. And she’s the one who makes the sandwiches.”
John’s mind reeled as the woman turned to face him. Her eyes locked onto his, and he felt a chill run down his spine. The woman’s gaze was ancient, evil, and yet… alluring.
As John watched in horror, the woman began to assemble another sandwich, her hands moving with an unnatural speed and precision. Mae handed it to John, her eyes glinting with a knowing spark.
“Try it,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’ll see.”
John’s heart racing, he took a bite of the sandwich. The flavors exploded on his tongue, and he felt himself being pulled into a world of unspeakable delight.
And then, the darkness closed in.
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