Wet, Red Knives

When the supermarket shelves were picked bare, we started hunting in the ruins.

When the deer and rabbits died out, we ate raccoons. Then pigeons. Then rats.

When the rats went, we looked at each other, at our wet, red knives, and knew:

Food is anything you are hungry enough to eat.

...

Short story written by Peter Chiykowski

Story prompt taken from a photo by Victor Larracuente