[Winter Contest Entry 2017] For the Greater Food

I am sorry it took so long and I am so sorry that it is so long. At least I managed this before Christmas!





Harold could be described as a rather well-endowed person with big bones and an imposing figure. He had lead a life of pleasure worrying very little about food, shelter and the other basic amenities of life. Why should he? There were other people taking care of these cumbersome matters.

The "other people" who were charge of feeding him, watering him, sheltering him and tending to his every need weren't his family members. Queer as it might sound, his family and indeed the many other families he knew were subject to the same treatment. They needn't eat food from the sweat of their brow or the fruit of their labours. They were by all means of that word, carefree. All of that was taken care by "other people".

Who were the "other people"?

Harold knew very little about the "other people". They struck him as mysterious and enigmatic. They might have given him and countless others quite a lot but they gave nothing away about themselves. Very occasionally, the thought might have crossed Harold's mind that they were taking the "other people" for granted but he took them for granted anyway. It didn't help that everyone else he knew took the "other people" for granted too.

Speaking of things that Harold took for granted, he never inquired much about his family or about the families of other people as well. Any keen-eyed stranger upon walking past the streets and homes where Harold lived might notice that there were no geriatrics. The elderly were absent in his neck of the woods and the toll ageing has on the body is an idea completely alien to Harold. Long ago, Harold might have asked his parents if they had parents of their own. To that, they replied rather apathetically that they had moved away from them.

If there is a word that best describes Harold's state of mind as well as everyone else's mind, it would be the word "apathetic". Isn't it strange that a person with a filled belly and free from care and want harbours complete apathy? Yet, that is to be expected. With no motivation to put in hard work to maintain one's own upkeep, life in Harold's part of the world was quite hedonistic. Everyone sought to gratify the most basest of pleasures, chief of which were the desires of the flesh.

The "other people" encouraged promiscuity and the giving in to desires to procreate for some reason. The "other people" even arranged for Harold to sleep and be intimate with rather unattractive women, both in appearance and personality. Neither was there any attempt at birth control. As it was, Harold was ignorant about contraception. These relationships weren't long lasting and resembled one-night stands. That arrangement, while very appealing to some, was a bit emotionally traumatic for Harold. He had frequent nightmares of fathering children from these eeriely orchestrated trysts and so desensitised he was to plain old intercourse, he developed bizarre sexual tastes and begun fantasising about effeminate men with their effeminate appendages and orifices.

If this arrangement where Harold needn't be bothered by day to day worries wasn't perfect, then it'd be near perfection. Why the need to question this arrangement? Everyone is living comfortably that way! That was what Harold thought initially. Then, something happened that made him think otherwise.

It all began when he decided to go on a walk on a whim and sheer boredom. His feet brought him to the edge of his neighbourhood beyond which is the unknown. He would be denied those creature comforts that the "other people" provided should he go beyond the borders of his neighbourhood. Yet, so lulled was he by those comforts that the thought of leaving never crossed his mind.

As it was, at the edge of his neighbourhood, there gathered a group of persons who caught his attention. That group was made up of people of significant age, older than his parents but not old enough to be geriatrics. Up till now, Harold has never seen or to put it more accurately never noticed gatherings of such people. His interest piqued, he went closer to them.

There appeared to be nothing untoward to begin. Those who were gathered at the edge of the neighbourhood appeared to be looking on as if they were waiting for something to happen. Harold looked on with curiosity, an emotion he didn't feel in quite some time. A few minutes passed without event and Harold decided to join that congregation hoping to learn more about what was happening.

There was anticipation written all over their faces as if they were waiting for some kind of reward. Harold was tempted to ask them what they were waiting for but decided against it feeling that he would know the answer in a matter of time. Minutes then became hours and Harold began to feel bored and uncomfortable. Just as he was about to sneak away and head home, he felt the ground rumble as if something large and heavy was rushing their way. It was a convoy made up of countless trucks with very long trailers.

These trucks were here to fetch everyone to some place. Was everyone anticipating a journey to somewhere different?

The trucks ground to a halt and the doors of the trailers that they pulled opened by themselves as if invisible hands were pushing them from inside. Slowly, everyone ambled their way into the trailers. Harold, like blind sheep following other blind sheep, followed suit. Upon stepping into the trailers, he saw that the interior of the trailers were furnished like luxury hotel rooms. One can see why everyone was eager to be ferried in these trucks. Accompanying Harold were a few others, all a generation older than him. Like Harold, they were enthralled by what they saw but only after the engines started roaring and the convoy of trailers started moving was when they realised each other's presence and so they begun talking to each other.

There were the perfunctory self-introductions and remarks of how young Harold was compared to them. Harold learnt that his companions weren't that much different from him except in age. Just as Harold was about to ask them where they were headed, they begun talking about precisely that matter. They spoke about the "other people" visiting their abodes a few months exhorting them to move out of their homes away from their children. The "other people" hid their faces but they were of tall stature and they spoke with commanding voices. There were plenty of inducements ranging from better living conditions than before to the use of a certain drug which upon administration fills the user with ecstasy. Finally, they were given promises of reaching "Paradise" and attaining what the "other people" called "Nirvana". This was what the convoy of trailers was leading them to.

Their descriptions of what "Paradise" and "Nirvana" were made them sound like brainwashed cult members. Harold didn't understand the details of what they were but he was left with the impression that "Paradise" and "Nirvana" are places and states of mind where wishes come true, desires are satiated, self-actualisation attained and people are made to think that world peace was achieved. Harold, who was not brought up to think critically, didn't have an opinion on all of this despite all of that sounding quite ludicrous. At this stage however, what else can he do other than to follow them to "Paradise" and experiencing "Nirvana" on that luxury hotel-like trailer? What is the worse that can happen?

In slightly over a day, the convoy reached its destination. Looming in the background was a place that can hardly be described as "Paradise". It resembled more a factory complex with its cold and unfeeling exterior and nondescript towers. Had Harold and his companions had better brains, they might have thought the factory complexes ought to house cold and cruel machinery made of steel and chrome. Some "Paradise"!

Although the passengers in the trailers appear not to be of the intelligence to understand that they are not going to "Paradise" to experience "Nirvana", chances weren't being taken. The "other people", who were responsible for bringing them there instructed them to blindfold themselves through some sort of broadcasting system. For the most part, everyone who was brought there did so unquestioningly. Harold whether it was because he was slow in picking up instructions or whether because, albeit very unlikely, he had developed critical thought, Harold didn't promptly follow those instructions. That caught the attention of one of the "other people".

The "other person" upon seeing Harold not blindfolding himself, picked him up. Needless to say, the "other person" possessed immense strength. True to what Harold had heard of them from his companions in the trailer, they were indeed very tall. The "other person" appeared to be female with large eyes, a beautiful mane of hair with a not-so-impressive bosom to go with them. The shock of being lifted from the ground was immediately replaced with him enchanted by that "other person".

"It looks too young to be slaughtered. There must be a mistake," she muttered.

As dull-witted and unintelligent Harold might be, he finally understood what is going to happen to his fellow trailer-travelling companions and more importantly, him. This explains why Harold hardly ever saw a geriatric or anyone succumbing to old age. The "other people" would consider them 'mature" and ready to be slaughtered for their own meat. That also explained why the "other people" were more than content to put aside so much resources to bringing them up and catering to Harold's needs and wants, not least their sexual desires which provided the "other people" more of Harold's kind.

It would seem that this was the end for Harold. He might be led into that slaughterhouse where he might receive a massage to tenderise his flesh before sitting in a sauna to moisturise his skin before being gassed with carbon dioxide. At least it would be a very comfortable death and he would not know that his limbs would be severed, his innards removed, his blood drained and his flesh carved, all to satiate the dietary needs of the "other people".

That fortunately didn't happen for the "other person" was quite against this very cruel (or so it seemed to her) arrangement. After all, Harold's kind have feelings and emotions. They are like the "other people", "human beings" too. The "other people" are treating them like serfs and sub-humans that only exist to fill the bellies of "other people". Having witnessed first hand the blood and gore in these effective slaughterhouses and so convinced that Harold's kind should be their equals, the thought of her doing something about it has often occurred to her. Harold's appearance presented an opportunity for her to do so.

She thought Harold should go back home to where he lived and inform his family, his neighbours, his friends and anyone else he knew about what was really going on. On her part, she would attempt to document how Harold's kind are sentient creatures worthy of being the "other people's" equals. That was done by making Harold wear a choker that contained video and audio recording devices.

"Go back and tell your family and friends what is going on here. I will try to get you out of the farm," the "other person" told Harold in a very low voice.

Harold was then smuggled back by being a stowaway on one of the transports that sent supplies and materials to and fro the slaughterhouse of an industrial complex and the farm which is really Harold's neighbourhood. All that said and done, what did Harold think of it all?

He didn't fancy the idea of being slaughtered when he hits a certain age. But yet he did not want to leave the farm which proved to be an even more gruelling prospect than being eaten by the "other people". While others (nothing whatsoever to do with the "other people") would see this as a very clear cut issue, Harold is finding that quite the dilemma.

His thoughts also turned to the exchanges he had with his now gutted and quartered companions on the trailer to the slaughterhouse. They complained about aches and pains that come with old age and how their senses and faculties are failing them year by year which was why the promises of "Paradise" and "Nirvana" resonated with them. At "Paradise" and upon attaining "Nirvana", these woes would go away. In a sense, being made a dinner item or a meat snack was deliverance from these bodily ailments but still, it is a bloody and deathly mess!

Nonetheless, Harold was an obedient fellow and so he did exactly what the "other person" told him to do -- spread the news about these industrial complex slaughterhouses and how they are really livestock inhabiting a farm. All that however was done very halfheartedly. It could be because of his lack of charisma and poor delivery or it could be because of his lack of earnestness but he didn't manage to convince that many people that they are in trouble.

The less intelligent laughed outright at how silly and farcical that sounded. They are well fed and taken care of. Why on earth would the "other people" want to harvest them for their meat?!

The slightly more intelligent (though that wasn't saying much) and the more indifferent ones replied, "Don't know. Don't care."

A handful of those around the age of Harold's parents replied very lazily, "Doesn't seem so bad an arrangement. After years of kicking back and doing nothing, it is nice to have some change in our lives. It is all for the greater good too."

There were only one or two of Harold's kind who yelled at him demanding evidence for his claims. However, they were really in a state of self-denial and no matter how much Harold described his experiences with the convoy, the slaughterhouses and the "other person" it would never amount to evidence that they can accept. Much better to delude themselves into thinking that the "other people" want nothing but the best for them and that they would continue to feed and clothe them with nothing expected in return.

So, like much of Harold's life, he accomplished nothing, decided that he had done all that he could and consoled himself by saying that there was still time to do something about it. After all, it will take many more years before he would be pumped up with drugs, promised "Paradise" and "Nirvana" and sent to some unfriendly looking factory complex to be slaughtered like livestock.

That might be the end of the story though if not for the "other person" with her long hair, large eyes, flat bosom and tall stature deciding to do something about it! Harold might had been useless in persuading his kind to see the truth of it all but not the "other person" who was plainly smarter and more capable than him! Using edited footage and audio she collected from the choker around Harold's neck, she somehow managed to kickstart a campaign arguing that those of Harold's kind are people too and that they deserve respect and dignity! It was quite obvious that she didn't include the footage and audio clips of Harold trying to convince his own kind about their impending doom as an item on the dinner menu!

It could be that "the other person" was well connected or that an alternative source of food was found which resulted in the movement to ban the slaughter of Harold's kind gaining momentum. While it would take too long to go into detail what had exactly happened, the "other person" used the mass media, bribed those in power with favours that cannot be described in polite company and other Machiavellian machinations to achieve the aim of the freeing Harold's kind from slaughter.

All that sounded fine and dandy, especially for Harold. Wouldn't he and his kind be happy at the prospect of being liberated from that awful fate of being eaten for food? On the contrary, this was to be the beginning of the end for Harold. Now that the "other people" had no reason to feed and water Harold, they abandoned his neighbourhood but not before asking some of Harold's neighbours, friends and families if they wished to head to "Paradise" or "Nirvana" one last time. Quite a few agreed and ended up being slaughtered anyway. While the others chose self-preservation and decided it was much better to strike it out on themselves, or so they thought.

They had no idea how to fend for themselves, build shelters or grow and harvest their own food. Even worse than that, they appeared incapable of learning how to sustain themselves. Some died of illness, others died of hunger, others were cannibalised by each other while some like Harold ran away to find "other people" who could take care of him.

Harold first thought of finding that benefactor (or doombringer) of his, that long hair and large eyed "other person". However, it would appear that she had forgotten about him and even if she did, Harold could not locate her and reach her anyway. Having won the battle to ban the neighbourhoods Harold was reared in, she was now seeking new grievances to exploit. How could she have the time and attention to salvage Harold from the mess she landed him in? That meant that Harold had to settle for other "other persons".

He chanced upon one of the "other persons". Instead of having large eyes, he had squinty ones to go with a blunt nose and a brown face. Let us call that "other person" leonard267 for convenience's sake. leonard267 was virulently hostile to the campaign to liberate Harold and his kind from the onset. It was a needless campaign that did quite a lot of damage to the farmers who reared Harold. Even more unsettling was, far from helping Harold, that campaign doomed Harold by robbing him of his source of food and shelter. Yet, the real reason why leonard267 was against this was because he loved eating the flesh that only Harold and his kind can offer!

So there was Harold looking expectantly at leonard267 hungry and cold and there was leonard267, not exactly hungry or cold but very, very peckish. What do you think is going to happen?

By the way, did I show you a picture of how Harold looked like?

As a long time reader of your stories I quite enjoy the transition between you writing monologues into something with more plot and happenings.

While I'm not quite sure about the symbolism that is happening, I too felt like being raised as a livestock especially since I was burned out from work and wanted a vacation so badly. It was especially miserable during the New Years, when other people took vacation with their families I had to do my job and the workload was getting so unreasonable.

Though I quite like how you put it, when they're raised indulgently they were unable to care and fend after themselves since they didn't raise through their own abilities. The way those guys followed the ones that wanted to slaughter them so earnestly truly tickled a funny bone, and at the same time it also made too much sense for me it hurts :D

In any case I picked up a good moral story within it, that indulgence is not a good thing and there's a meaning of suffering for one's own future. When I think about it again, being a lifestock in paradise may not necessarily be a good thing if you value freedom and independence, even if it means getting hurt and depressed to the point you often wished to die.

I sometimes wonder, why do the other people liked the taste of old people? Normally people like young and plump ones to be slaughtered if it was for food. Maybe it's some kind of metaphor that I didn't get.

===

A bit OOT here but holy shit man only you dedicated enough to submit. If it weren't for my shit job I would also whipped an entry.

I don't want to talk about myself so much here but nice work for the entry and I hope you can continue on making interesting stuffs like these in the future. Since this forum is dead you may want to try Fictionpress or Wattpad to post your original works.

So you eat dog now?

I found the first half a bit confusing, kept thinking Harold was actually Donald Trump. But it got more to my tastes near the end and I found it an entertaining (albeit, leonard-esque) read. You have a very unique sense of humour which I appreciate.

I very much liked your iteration of a classic twist of story, providing personification and juxtaposition towards the way we treat animals, raising them in captivity and dependency and harvesting them to eat. I must admit, I thought they were human until they arrived at the factory, and then until the end of the story when I saw your picture I thought they were cows. I’m not aware of any operations so sophisticated in the harvesting of dogs. However, if that really is your dog, then I suppose seeing it chew on a toy so happily was the best twist of all.

Lastly, a few places with redundant sayings and a lot of confused tenses in places. You could also use some commas. Other than that, this was splendidly written. Well done.



These expressions are so close together that it sounds grating.



harboured.







eerily.



was.



This could be written much more appropriately.



was.



had. Comma. Comma. Semicolon.



Redundant. was.





“Began,” or “had begun.”



Comma. were. were.



worst. could.



Comma.



have been. was. explained.



many.



Run-on with the “befores.”



first-hand.



were.



from.



was.



were.



were.



could. wanted.



have been. have.



hadn’t.



did. was.

I'm sorry to say, but this story failed to really grab my interest. I didn't find myself caring about Harold or anything going on around him. I think part of the problem is he doesn't really do anything. The plot kind of just trudges along, dragging him with it. He happens to get onto the truck, he happens to run into a good person who wants to help him, and then she takes care of the rest.

You weren't interested in the part where this is an elaborate setup to have him slaughtered for his meat?! Or how he fantasises about effeminate man parts?!

Harold is static here and he is really a window into the world he inhabits in. I am sure you do this in what you write too?

But I am familiar with your tastes. You dislike setups and setting the plot for the story, which is precisely what I like!

I intended it to be satirical to begin with. If someone is feeding you, chances are they want something in return. Of course, I wrote this to annoy a dog lover acquaintance of mine too.

You might have an idea on my thoughts on welfare, cult worship, animal conservation and dog eating after reading this.

Was explaining what sort of world Harold was in. It is like a mystery story where you introduce the characters, the situation you are in then you set the story in motion.

I like it when Harold is presented with two ends, all unpleasant. He can either lead a life of comfort only to be slaughtered in the end or he can get his freedom and starve to death or die from exposure.

I find it difficult to be interested in what will happen to the character or anyone he cares about when I don't care at all about the character, which I didn't in this case.



I haven't been interested in jokes like that since I was in middle school.



I didn't find the world interesting either. Yes, I wondered who the "other people" were, but I didn't really care.



I don't dislike it when it's done in ways that I like. Every plot needs to be set up in some way.

That sounds like a comment I would make about your stories. But the reason why I don't care for your characters and your stories is mainly because I have no idea who they are or what they do. If I don't understand who they are and where they are at, how can I even be interested in the first place?

Don't misunderstand me. The reason why I don't like what you write is not because I don't like you. It is more because of my tastes in how a story ought to be presented. I just find your style very difficult to make sense of.

If I wanted to make the reader understand the story, then I would have to tell who Harold is and where he inhabits.

But let me try to pick an argument with you over here just for the sake of it. The main reason why you didn't find it interesting is mainly because reading about a dystopia where everything is taken care of is not to your tastes?

Or is it the case that you are concerned about characters instead of plot and story? Can I say that if you find the main character uninteresting, it doesn't matter that where he is in or what he saw, that story doesn't interest you anyway?

Nothing happened in the winning entry. It is just one man taking up a spot in the city and singing songs but I suppose you thought it a much better story. Why is that?

I find it shocking that you find references to cannibalism not interesting or at least not disturbing though! What on earth elicits a reaction from you?!

Let's forget about cannibalism for a second and expand the scope. Let's say that instead, the world's going to end in a story. That fact in and of itself doesn't matter whatsoever if I have no reason to care that the world is going to end. The same goes for any problem. You have to make us care about it for us to be invested in it. It's not the subject matter that's the problem, it's your writing. It fails to engage me.



I don't think good characterization should be shafted just because it isn't the focus. Like I said before though, nothing in this story in particular grabbed me. It wasn't just the character that fell flat for me. It was just about everything else as well.

Engines of God by Jack McDevitt is a good example of a book that isn't character focused that I still really enjoyed.

I hate to pop your huge ego (your words, not mine), but not only do I generally not like your writing, I can't appreciate the craft behind it either because it needs a lot of work, not because it doesn't suit my tastes. Now, that's not to say i don't appreciate the effort that went into it, but I think you have a lot of room to improve.



I like Yanker's entry better because it does what it's going for better than your story.

If the world did end, I'd be concerned if I knew what sort of world it was. I find histories of civilisations interesting even though the history books would convey it in a drier manner than mine. This is a world that apparently breeds humans to be eaten by superior beings. That itself would grab my attention. So why did it fall flat for you?

It is not really how useless the character is or how he is helpless in the face of events, isn't it? Yanker's character did even less than mine. Can you put your finger on what it is? I can guess it might be the presentation.

The style of presentation doesn't engage you just like how your style doesn't engage me! I am sure you put it quite a lot of effort in your work but I still think Yanker does a better job than you. I however admit it is a matter of taste especially if you consider that some like what was written here. Applies to what you write too. Some like it! I don't but I have my reasons why and I would like to know yours.

Care to elaborate how it can be done better or how it can be improved? What should be changed in the story to engage you? What sort of work needs to be put in it? How would you write this story?

I have mentioned many times how you can improve. You simply need to explain who the characters in your story are before going further into the story. But you weren't very detailed about your criticism. It appears that you didn't like the character so you didn't like the story.

Also, if possible can you tell me what you liked about Yanker's entry either here or at this thread?

And yes. Please criticise. It keeps the posts coming that way and more to talk about. I do have a huge ego but it is quite irritating if someone throws criticism, says I don't like the way you write but doesn't back it up or elaborate isn't it?

Don't hold back. I have done the same to you countless times.

You start off by telling about how nice and happy Harold's life is and how it has no problems, which is problem number one with the story. No one likes to read about other people being happy, myself included. They like to read about people struggling to be happy. You subvert this later, but it takes time to get there. As far as I know on my first read through, this is a story about a character who has no issues to deal with.

Problem number two. You tell me this isn't a story about Harold so much as it's a story about the setting, but you start off the story by telling us about Harold. What do we put at the start of a story? Something important that will be crucial to it. By focusing on Harold with the first paragraph, you're signaling to the reader that the story will focus on Harold whether you meant to or not. Mention of the Other People follows shortly after, but Harold is first. We aren't thinking about the Other People with regard to their place in the world and their impact on it. We're thinking about what the Other People mean to Harold.

Thanks for going through the entry! I will just offer a few rebuttals here.

If I don't write about how happy he apparently is, how can I introduce the twist?

You complained that Harold does nothing and lets events take control which is true. But if I don't tell you who is Harold or where he is, how do I describe the world around him?

1984 isn't really about Winston Smith is it? But you still need Winston Smith as your main character.

Do go on.

First, I will say that I argued that the focus of this story was to present and showcase the situation, as I see that you have argued in the comments. I believe that Harold does function as a window to experience and see the world through his eyes. He certainly isn't particularly interesting, but I suppose he could be used to juxtapose and call to attention the strange situation he seems to apathetically live in.

However, while I see the core of the idea you are executing, I do not think it is done well. I believe that this piece is significantly weaker than a number of your previous works.

I figured out very early on that Harold was not human, and I also figured out where the story was going in terms of raising 'something' to be harvested or eaten. A lot of this has to do with the title, the presence of these 'other people', and the seemingly lavish, but sheltered life of Harold. Once I connected the dots, the mystery of this world that the story is being built on loses a lot of its momentum.

In my opinion, the what makes this piece suffer the most is just how slowly it reads. There is a lot of repetition, especially with the 'other persons' which forcibly slows down the reader because you put it in quotations every time you mention them. An unfortunate combination of me realizing the twist early on, your usual wordy narration, and a lack of interest in Harold as a character resulted in me struggling to read the entire piece.

I will also mention, again, that I think you are trying to highlight a situation. In doing so, I think you ended up forgoing anything else for the reader to latch onto. Early on, producing an imagery of where he lived and not just how he lived, would have gone a long way for this piece.

Ironically enough, describing where he lived would make this story unreadable for me. Descriptions that never get to the point bore me which was why I found Yanker's entry which you enjoyed, frustrating. It is describing how he lived and what he does that grabs my attention.

I disagree with your criticism of repeating "the other persons" again and again. The "other persons" have to be repeated of course just as Harold has to be repeated. "Other persons" are a proper noun in this context like Tom and Harry. Of course, I should have come up with an outlandish name but I would have hated to do that. Calling them "other people" described who they were the best.

It is more than just the twist that is going on here. I would say that I intended that to be satire too. There are after all people who live like Harold but are not dogs to be slaughtered. I wrote this to piece not only as a prank but to poke fun at things.

I threw in other bits of satire that you might have noticed. Have you paid attention to how the people in Harold's neighbourhood reacted when they heard they might be slaughtered? And how bizarre the campaign to liberate Harold and the justification for it was?