Although there was still buffet meat on the grill and plenty of stew to be had, the guests were all careful to pace themselves, not wanting to fill up too much before the main course was served. All the while they had been eating, the guests, whether they be the families of the schoolgirls or invited members of the press, had been walking amongst the roasting pits admiring the delicious, slowly turning bodies of Helen and the other teens, watching as they turned golden brown and changed from living, breathing, attractive young women to tender, delicious meat.

Finally, the moment everyone had been waiting for them came. Having checked each roast, pushing a fork into the thigh to check the colour of the meat under the skin and the juices that trickled out, the team of catering students confirmed that all four were ready to eat! Now the spitting benches were wheeled out again but now they had upright mounts, similar to those on the roasting pits, fitting to either end. Carefully, the caterers lifted the roasted meat, on the spits, out of the cooking mounts and onto the wheeled benches. Once away from the heat, the foil was carefully unwrapped from around their heads and their pretty hair brushed out to make them attractive for presentation and to leave the guests in no doubt that it was the meat of young girls that they were eating.

They were then all rolled out to the front, in the same positions they had been for spitting, but now facing outwards to enable better photographs. Once everyone had got the pictures that they wanted, the official photographers let the caterers know and they were turned around to present their rumps, leading to another extensive set of photographs. Then, finally, it was time to carve.

The tender meat was slice effortlessly from the carcasses by the students, some of whom could not help but imagine themselves in the same position, and served to the eager guests. The young woman in charge of carving Helen beckoned Phil over.

“She asked us to reserve some special cuts for you!” She grinned, pushing her shoulder-length brown curls away from her face. “Hold out your plate!” Phil did as he was told, very intrigued and excited, and watched as the young woman carved the plump vulva from around the spit and placed it carefully on his plate. Next she cut away the left nipple, which was still pert and perky, with about a finger’s-width of meat beneath it, followed by two more similarly-sized slices of breast. Phil admired the pale, creamy-textured meat as it was cut away and added to his plate. Finally she rolled the carcass over in its mount and cut three succulent, juicy slices of Helen’s especially appetising rump! “Feel free to come back for more later!” the young woman grinned as Phil tucked in gratefully. The meat was amazing and, as he finished his allocation, Phil felt torn between going back for more of his friend or trying to sample at least a little of the other three. In the end, he opted for asking for slices of different parts of each roaster, this time taking a delicious slice of thigh from Helen.

In the aftermath of the event, the news story positively exploded, with a few negative commentators but mostly praise for the innovation and daring of all involved, including the eaten girls. Many news sources and other media outlets sought interviews with anyone who had been involved in any capacity, leading to several documentaries and a light-hearted movie telling the story called “Cannibal School.” The footage and photographs from the event itself, of course, brought in a small fortune for the school. Enough, in fact, to open a junior school, attendance at which guaranteed a place at Hamilton Hall. The amusing coincidence that such establishments are commonly known as “feeder schools” was not lost on the media or anyone else! So successful, in fact, was the event that it was decided that it would recur in five years’ time, to mark Mrs Henderson’s retirement. When it was repeated another five years after that, the then-head decided that it should instead become an annual tradition.

Having thoroughly enjoyed the meat of her friends, Emily wheedled, cajoled and pestered until her parents agreed to cook her for their Christmas dinner. But, although she was a relatively small girl, Emily was a very large turkey and there was no way that she could fit in their oven at home. Eventually, it was Emily herself who realised that she could easily fit in the oven at her parents’ local village hall so they hired it out for the day and invited several other families they were friends with to come and partake of the very special festive meal, each group bringing something to drink and a side to accompany the meat. Emily had great fun helping her family to decorate the hall before it was time for her to go in the oven and everyone said it was the best Christmas Dinner they had ever suggested. So much did everyone enjoy it, in fact, that all the adults around the table decided that it should become an annual tradition – something that provoked mixed feelings among their various children!

Phil made some useful contacts on the feast day and, as soon as he finished college, was offered a job on Frank’s paper, leading to a strong and well-respected career in photojournalism. Although his band never made it to the big time, their album with Helen on the cover was a moderate hit, lots of interest generated, as she had predicted, by the fact that the cover model was one of the Hamilton Tributes. They had posters, postcards, badges, phone-cases and t-shirts printed up with his picture of her drinking from Laura’s skull and these sold incredibly well, generating more income for the boys, all combined, than the album itself!

The Hamilton Hall Bicentennial Feast was something of a watershed moment first for British then, in time, World culture, brining cannibalism out of the world of horror movies and the dark, shadowy corners of the internet and into the mainstream. Children born even fifteen or twenty years after that first Feast found it hard to imagine a world where other people weren’t on the menu as a simple fact of everyday life.

Could Mrs Henderson or the Tribute girls really have had any idea what it was that they were starting? Who can say! Although I’m sure they would all approve heartily of the world they helped to create!

The End