Rabbit Stew

Rabbit Stew is a creepy story for kids written by Mikki mares, age 13.

Rachel combed back her auburn hair. Her mother had told her to look nice for her grandfather’s arrival. She sat on a recliner in the front room, thinking.

Grandpa had been living in Tampa Bay, Florida until recently. He and Grandma had lived in a rest home until a year ago, when Grandma died of a stroke. Rachel remembered flying down to Florida for the funeral. Grandpa had seemed OK at the time, but recently the rest home had called and said that Grandpa had been acting strangely. They said it would do him some good to live with his family for a while.

Rachel couldn’t help feeling strange. She walked into the living room and picked up her pet bunny rabbit. his name was Bud. She walked around, holding him close to her chest and stroking his soft fur. Just as she was about to fetch him a carrot to nibble on, the doorbell rang.

Rachel hurriedly put her bunny rabbit back in his cage and ran to answer the front door. She wished she hadn’t hurried. When she opened the door, a little old man was standing there. He was leaning on a big cane and his dark, beady eyes seemed to penetrate her body. It took her a few moments to recognize him.

“Grandpa?” she asked quietly. “It’s me, Rachel.”

He reached out for Rachel’s hand and she bit her lip. She let out a tiny squeal when she felt how strong his handshake was.

Rachel couldn’t eat her dinner. She kept noticing how Grandpa was staring at Bud in his cage, watching the rabbit’s every move. She was startled when Grandpa spoke, looking directly at her.

“During the depression, your grandmother and I used to raise bunnies,” he growled. “Big fat ones like that.”

He pointed a finger at Bud.

“Grandma couldn’t stand killing them,” he continued, “so I used to twist their little necks, chop them up with a kitchen knife and make them into a tasty rabbit stew.”

Rachel shuddered and left the room.

“Why does Grandpa act so weird?” Rachel asked.

It was 8 o’clock at night and Rachel was in her mother’s bedroom.

“Well, he loved Grandma very much,” her mom replied. “When she died, he missed her terribly. I guess it affected his mind.”

“Oh,” was all Rachel could say. “Well tomorrow at school, it’s going to be so much fun. My teacher is bringing my costume tomorrow for the Easter play. I’m going as the Easter Bunny!”

The next morning, Rachel was making herself a sandwich for lunch when Grandpa walked into the kitchen. She was using a large, sharp knife to cut her sandwich in two. Grandpa took one look at the knife and said, “That’s the kind of knife I used to chop up the bunnies,” he growled. “A big, sharp kitchen knife like that one.”

Rachel quickly shoved the knife back in the drawer, put her sandwich in a lunchbox and left for school.

Later that day, as Rachel was walking home for school, she was very happy. Her teacher had let her wear the Easter Bunny costume home so she could show it to her mom. When Rachel opened the door to the house, a strange smell filled the air. She put down her schoolbag and walked into the kitchen.

“Grandpa, what are you cooking?” she asked.

“A tasty stew,” he replied.

Grandpa’s back was turned to her. Rachel saw a pot bubbling on the stove and walked over to look inside and see what kind of stew it was.

As she peered into the pot, she saw a pair of lifeless eyes staring back at her. Rachel screamed in horror. It was her pet rabbit, Bud.

Grandpa turned and looked at her, clutching a bloody knife in his hand. His eyes widened and a strange grimace spread across his face.

“Another bunny,” he growled, pointing at her. “Another big fat bunny for my rabbit stew.”

Rachel screamed and began backing away from the crazed old man.

“Grandpa, no! I’m not a bunny!” she cried. “It’s me, Rachel!”

The old man just smiled and muttered happily, “You’re a fat little bunny. You’ll be perfect for my stew.”

“Grandpa!” she pleaded. “It’s me Rachel!”

She felt her back hit the wall. Grandpa had cornered her and was blocking all the escape routes. She screamed in terror as the old man raised the knife.

“Please! Grandpa, no!”

About 15 minutes later, Rachel’s mom arrived home from work. As she opened the front door, a strange smell filled the air.

“Dad, what are you cooking?” she asked.

“A tasty rabbit stew,” the old man replied.