Harry Wilding’s flash fiction might speak to anyone who is currently doing Veganuary. Illustration by Where I Draw.

The fox. Chased. Ripped apart. Killed. Unrecognisable to the living animal it so recently was. Disgusting! I rip open the plastic packaging and remove the raw steak. Those poshos, doing something so ridiculous and barbaric just because it was what their parents and ancestors did before them. Morons! I rub the steak with oil. Add salt and pepper. Pop it in the oven. My gran’s method; it makes me think of my childhood. And for what? Some fleeting pleasure? Horrible! I am excited. My knife cuts into the meat, juices flow. Succulent. Bloody lovely. I smile. I chew. I eat.

This piece appeared in The Protest Issue of Popshot Quarterly. On sale now.

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