The Lamb Head Banquet

Daniel clasped his hands together in gratitude. "I have you to thank, sir. You were willing to handle my father's funeral for only twenty dollars."

My grandfather waved him off. "We're all from the same town. No need for that."

Tears welled in Daniel's eyes as he wiped them away. He insisted on pulling both my grandfather and me to the banquet table.

My grandfather repeatedly declined. "Oh, I couldn't do that."

But Daniel remained firm. "Sir, just do me this favor. Look at this spread. Every lamb's head and every cut of pork was freshly butchered today. The freshest you'll ever taste. I guarantee you'll enjoy it."

I followed him over.

There were four lamb's heads on the table, each facing one of the four cardinal directions.

The center of the table overflowed with roasted pork, beef, fresh loaves of bread, and bowls of rich stew. The aroma alone was enough to make my mouth water.

My grandfather's expression darkened slightly, but he said nothing and quietly took a seat.

Once all the guests had settled in, my grandfather's brass band stepped forward and began to play.

Daniel even decorated the yard with festive banners and strings of lights, and fireworks were set up near the fence.

The music and explosions thundered through the air.

The funeral felt more like a celebration than a farewell.

None of the guests paid any attention to that.

The lamb's heads smelled far too good.

The meat was tender enough to melt on the tongue, while even the bones seemed infused with rich juices.

It made people want to devour an entire head by themselves.

The guests ate with abandon, completely immersed in the feast, grease glistening around their mouths, only my grandfather showed no interest in the banquet.

He glanced at the fireworks set up outside, the flashy banners strung across the yard, and Frank Lee’s memorial portrait.

A troubled look crossed his face as he muttered, "That boy Daniel... why does he seem so happy when his own father just passed away?"

As he spoke, he gave me a tug while I was busy stuffing my face.

"You little brat. All you ever think about is eating. Don't grow up to be like him."

I replied, "With lamb's heads that taste this good, who wouldn't be happy?"

The mention of the lamb's heads made my grandfather frown.

"Daniel's family is dirt poor. He only paid twenty dollars for the funeral, and he even built the coffin himself. Where did he get the money for a feast like this?"

Our neighbor, Maria Lowe, had eaten her fill of meat and was sucking the grease from her fingers.

"Never mind that. His father took some eggs from me after he hit his head a while back, and I never got them back. I'm getting my money's worth today."

She paid no attention to the disapproving looks around the table.

Instead, she snatched up one of the lamb's heads, hugged it to her chest, and gnawed on it with almost obsessive delight.

I stared at the lamb's head.

Its eye sockets were empty, dark hollows without eyeballs.

Yet somehow, it felt as though it was staring right back at me.

But the smell kept teasing my appetite, and I tugged at my grandfather's sleeve, begging for some lamb's head.

"All you ever think about is eating."

My grandfather rarely lost his temper, but this time he smacked me lightly on the backside. "Do you ever think about anything else? Just bear with it."

I burst into tears.

Daniel heard the commotion and walked over with a frown. "Why the tears? This is supposed to be a happy day."

My grandfather pulled me closer. "Frank once gave the boy something to eat when he was hungry. He's just missing him."

"I see." Daniel crouched down and wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

A strange light flickered in his eyes.

"What are you so upset about? Today's a great day for my father."

His gaze burned with excitement.

"Why cry? You should be smiling. Laughing, even!"

By then, most of the guests had finished eating, and they were all looking our way with strange expressions.

One elderly man wiped his mouth and snapped, "Your father just died. Why are you so happy, you ungrateful brat?"

Daniel, who rarely smiled, grinned broadly now.

"Why shouldn't I be happy? Weren't you happy eating too? Wasn't the lamb's head delicious?"

An uncomfortable silence settled over the courtyard.

Fortunately, my grandfather was one of the few educated people in town and stepped in to smooth things over.

"Some philosophers believed death was simply a return to the natural order of things. To them, it wasn't something to be feared or mourned endlessly.

"Maybe Daniel simply believes that death is a return to the natural order, not something to be met with endless grief and tears."

The guests stopped scolding Daniel and instead began praising my grandfather's learning and eloquence.

Daniel neither agreed nor disagreed.

He merely gave my grandfather a long, unreadable look.

Then he turned and smiled at me.

The way he stared made my skin crawl.

"Grandpa, I want to go home."

"Then let's go."

As we were leaving, Maria was still clutching a lamb's head and gnawing away at it.

Between bites, she muttered, "I should've brought my old man along. Such fine lamb's head. So fresh."

Daniel chuckled.

"Eat. Have some more."

Early the next morning.

A frantic pounding rattled our front gate.

My grandfather hurriedly threw on his clothes and rushed to answer it.

Maria’s daughter-in-law stood outside, tears streaming down her face.

"Sir, my mother-in-law passed away last night."

I followed my grandfather over to see what happened.

Maria hung suspended from a ceiling beam, a rope cinched around her waist.

When the door opened, a gust of wind swept through the room and set her body swaying gently back and forth.

Then her face slowly turned toward us.

And I saw it clearly.

Maria had no eyeballs, only two dark, hollow sockets remained.

They looked exactly like the lamb's head from the night before.