Her skull opened up like a flower revealing countless glistening fangs, thin tendrilesque tongues and right at the heart of it all her beautiful brain, gently pulsing to a heartbeat far too irregular to be human. A part of me always suspected she was too good to be human anyway and the glorious sight before me only made me love her more.
Later that night I helped her prepare dinner - Steak Esterházy. Formerly named after a 19th-century Hungarian prince but to us she was our neighbour Esther, a sharp and easily outraged old woman who'd seen more than she should have when doing her routine 'neighbourhood patrols'. She wouldn't be missed.
Once my dearest had her fill of Esther she was still intact enough for us to make it seem like she'd had a tad too much brandy and taken a nasty fall down the stairs, cracking her head open and dying within arms reach of her phone. Unlike my dearest (whose head is filled with eldritch beauty), old Esther was full of bitter blood and slimy grey matter - hardly a fitting feast but my dearest isn't one to complain about her food.
I think for our honeymoon I'll see about taking us to somewhere more remote, where the people are more free-range and youthful. The body is a temple after all and nobody would dare offer their goddess expired or mouldy food.
She deserves the best and I'll make sure she gets it.
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