Ever hear of Armin Meiwes? The Rohtenburg Cannibal? Well, this is a sort of story/essay that I had written on him for my 12th grade English class. I think it came out well. It details (mostly anyway, I had to leave out the bit about him eating another man's penis WITH the man he cut it off of) his past as well as how he met his victims. Despite the horrid crime, their relationship is romantic in a way. Enjoy!
Carrying a mug of steaming, hot tea, Armin Meiwes took a seat near the window. He sat in is mother’s old rocking chair, one that she would occupy hours on end, bitterly staring out of the window, before her unfortunate, yet welcomed death. He kept everything the same, never once rearranging the furniture. Even years after her death, he feared Mother would disapprove of the changes. He found it best to keep her---and, now, her spirit at least--happy.
Oh, how I loved Mother, he thought. She kept me happy, was always there for me…always…scolding me…hitting me in public…Armin sighed. She kept me chained to her side…that wonderful wretch.
Armin left the room and crossed the hall, pausing before a door. This was the only room he had ever bothered to change, and for good reason. The cannibal needed to be prepared for when he would finally find "the one."
"Forgive me, Mother," he muttered. Meiwes opened the door.
The room was large, open. The walls were lined with impeccably clean, bright, white tile. Nearly blinding. The floor had been redone, replaced by linoleum, with a shade similar to that of the walls. The air smelled clean, sterile even. It reminded Armin of a hospital; the room reeked of bleach, but he loved the smell. In the very center of the room was a makeshift butcher’s bench covered in a transparent plastic tarp. He looked up. Chains hung from the ceiling, meat hooks dangling on the edge of each. the Butcher reached upward, pulling one of the hooks down. He pressed his finger onto the tip of the hook, pushing down until he drew blood. The crimson liquid dripped down his hand and into his sleeve, staining his white dress shirt. With his left hand, he wiped off some of the blood. He brought the uninjured hand to his lips and inhaled deeply, relishing the copper scent of the delightful liquid.
Soon, he thought, I will taste the blood of another.
Armin smiled and removed the hook from his finger, which had begun to numb from the loss of blood. He gripped the bleeding appendage, trying to staunch the flow of blood. He left the room and walked briskly to the bathroom to bandage the wound. He nudged the cabinet open and pulled the white cloth from the shelf. The wound was cleaned, Armin wincing at the soap seeping into the punctured flesh. After wrapping the finger, he went downstairs.
* * *
The Gein Configuration, in Armin’s circle of ‘friend’s, is used to hold the victims upside down. The meat hooks are inserted within the heels, and the body is then bled out, often by an “ear-to-ear” cut through the larynx and neck, severing the external and internal carotid arteries. Some decided to skin their victims, others chopped them up into meal sized portions…which would be consumed over a period of time.
Armin licked his lips at the thought.
He booted up one of the many computers he owned, all stored on the first floor of the house. The computer technician rarely used the second floor of the house.
But that would change. Soon.
His desktop loaded, stable internet connection established, Meiwes began clicking away at the icons, and opened his favorite site: The Cannibal Café.
All too often, the polite, unassuming German sat at his computer desk for hours, meeting countless people online who claimed to share his desire for human flesh. Most, he assumed, entered the chat merely for kicks, to see what kind of ‘sickos’ perused the World Wide Web, or to express an interest in cannibalism. Their fleeting fantasies of tasting the tender skin of another human being. But unlike those curious anonymous’, Armin Meiwes’ desire was one that he would fulfill. And soon.
Since he was a boy, he dreamt of eating human flesh. Often he stared at his fellow classmates, eyeing their small bodies like cuts of meat, scrutinizing their potential to be served on a plate, like a butcher in a way.
Yes, that’s what I am, he mused. a butcher. A master butcher.
“Der Metzgermeister,” he whispered to himself.
The Butcher opened the chat, assuming his regular alias “Franky”. Today, he would post a request. One that he had offered many times, but no one has yet to follow through. Oh, how this disappointed Armin. He frowned. Soon, though, he would find someone worthy.
He longed for a close relationship. After his father and step brother had left him, Armin became lonely. He had no men in his life; and that was exactly what he wanted. A man. Specifically, a brother, a younger one at that. His mother, Waltraud, had never remarried after Dieter had left her, tired of their incessant fighting. She became bitter and closed off to the idea of finding yet another love. Armin was the only man she would ever love. And she made damn sure that he would never disappoint her like her past husbands had.
And through all of that, sprung his desire for flesh, often thinking of his favorite childhood tale “Hansel und Gretel.” He thought about his favorite scene, where the witch tried to fatten Hansel up so that she could dine on his plump little body. He loved that part. Even as a young child.
But Armin did not want to act out a childhood story, no, he wanted to achieve the ultimate closeness. And he would gain this by consuming the flesh of another. Eating them, devouring them, would bring him closer to them, than he had ever been to his father or brother. They would become a part of him.
The Butcher’s hunger grew more and more each day, taking over his thoughts.
His appetite must be sated.
Armin waited as the names began to pour into the chat room, all of the usual’s. Once the room had filled, the cannibalistic computer technician began typing his request:
“Looking for a well-built man, 18-30 years old, for slaughter.”
His fingers poised over the keyboard, his injured forefinger hovering hesitantly over the ENTER key. With a breath, he pushed down, and watched his words transition from the text box, to the chat log. Responses to his inquiry poured in, none of them satisfying him.
That is, until one man messaged him. Then everything changed.
* * *
Armin stood, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the man he had spent months talking to. Each of them expressed their innermost desire to devour, and be devoured. The pair had agreed to meet, and upon Armin’s asking if he truly wanted to carry on through with their plans, Bernd had replied:
“There is no way back now, only forwards, and that is through your teeth.”
They had made a contract with each other. Both were aware of their intentions. And Armin couldn’t have been more elated. Finally, he had found someone that was like him, someone that would not push him away for his decidedly disgusting delicacy. In a way, it was disturbingly romantic.
* * *
The two had been at Meiwes’ farmhouse for hours, drinking, laughing, enjoying themselves like old friends. The two had a connection that neither had ever felt before.
Soul mates, Bernd Brandes, the 43 year old computer technician considered, musing on the new relationship.
The two sat at the kitchen table anxious for what would happen next. They agreed to begin the feast.
Bernd suggested his flesh be bitten off, but after several unsuccessful attempts, Armin retrieved a kitchen knife and hacked the skin off, as well as some of Brandes’ fat. His wounds were quickly bandaged, and the two bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen to hurriedly cook the fresh skin. Delirious and drunk, Brandes sat impatiently at the table waiting for his meal. Armin burnt the flesh after frying it, but they still attempted to eat. It proved to be disgusting. Meiwes chopped the skin up and fed it to his dog.
He rushed the bleeding man up to the bath he had set for him, in order to bleed him out at a much faster rate. Armin read to him for hours.
After eight long hours, Bernd finally slipped into a coma. The Butcher gave him a peck on the cheek and slashed his throat multiple times, thus killing him. Although, he did not want to. Brandes, surprisingly, wanted to be eaten and killed, erasing any trace of him from this earth.
Meiwes set up his digital camera and recorded the dismembering of the German’s body. After hacking away at him for nearly four hours, his body was packaged and dated, all made into meal sized portions, some with recipes on the labels. They were hidden in the meat freezer underneath various pizza boxes.
Over a period of eighteen months, his body was consumed, nearly forty four pounds of flesh.
* * *
Armin struck again, entering the chat rooms, this time speaking to people, rather than putting out his all famous request. A medical student dabbling in the chats became alarmed, rather disturbed by Meiwes’ true taste for flesh. He called the authorities, which quickly identified Armin, and arrested him.
Seeing as cannibalism is not illegal in Germany, he was charged with manslaughter and sentenced to life in prison.
The man who seemed rather happy of his despicable deeds was not deemed insane, but said to have a “rather disturbed soul.”
It has been said that his desire to kill will only grow over time.