All Sara could do was sigh as she stared up at the paint slowly peeling off the ceiling of her office. It wasn’t as though she was bored, far from it. No the problem was something that all people in her profession feared. Writers block.
Sara was a journalist, an independent one at that. Earlier in her career it was often she went a day or two without food because her stories didn’t rate high enough to gain the attention of the locals. Still, living in one of the largest cities on the coast it meant there were plenty of stories to cover. The problem was, most people didn’t care about the smaller issues she usually covered.
Of course that changed five months earlier when people started disappearing. It wasn’t uncommon for a few people to go missing here and there, after all predators were a thing. Ravenous individuals who had lost control of all sense of morality and would go on rampages devouring anyone they could find. However, most of these predators would devour maybe five people at most over the course of a few nights only to be discovered, tracked down and killed by the police. Yet Sara was hearing rumors that nearly a dozen had gone missing over the course of a week. The chances there were multiple predators going on rampages across the city were slim, or at least would be the first time it had happened. And even with these disappearances neither the police or the larger news corporations were all that interested.
It was up to independent journalists like Sara to cover the story, at risk of themselves getting devoured. And yet, it was exactly this reporting that made Sara a notable entity in the city. Many of the other journalists started vanishing as their stories hinted at getting closer to revealing the culprit. This left Sara the main focus for the people of the city that had been gripped by fear and were yearning for the truth.
As more and more people vanished from the city, Sara started frequenting the clubs and bars where they were last seen. If only to get a better idea of the victims. Yet it was during one of these trips she met a mysteriously alluring older woman. Inviting Sara back to her place, she seemed overly friendly. Though Sara passed this off as an older woman doing everything she could to get laid and taking some pity on her, Sara accepted.
Downing her drink, the rest of the night was a blur. Waking up she had found herself lying on a couch in a strange apartment with the other woman nowhere in sight. Until she looked down toward her feet. Sara could hardly believe what she was seeing, a giant wobbling orb that made up her gut. The woman being quickly reduced to a thick sludge.
Rising from the couch, all Sara could do was let out a large belch. More shocked from her impolite eruption than the sight of another person in her belly, Sara stumbled around the apartment, where she quickly found something far more shocking. Around the room were photos and belongings of multiple people, many she recognized as the victims of the illusive predator that had been stalking the city. With this revelation Sara knew she know faced a serious dilemma.
She had just devoured the monster that had terrorized the city. Not only that, she had just devoured the one person that was keeping her articles selling. Without the predator that was feeding on the city, she could soon find herself going hungry again. Another belch rumbling over her lips gave her an idea, a rather psychotic and evil idea. If she had devoured the monster, then she would become a new, more dangerous monster. It was at that moment the Mad Gulper was born.
Over the next few months she stuffed herself at least one night each week. More concerned with the ratings of her articles that sensationalized the disappearances and made the Mad Gulper seem far more dangerous than she really was, Sara quickly devoured far more people than the other predator had. And yet, the police never seemed to suspect anything. Sure she visited the clubs where so many people were now vanishing from but she was a journalist, she was just trying to find the truth like everyone else.
Returning to the dingy ceiling, Sara groaned as a monstrous belch rippled over her lips. The six people she had gorged herself on that night were already starting to digest and yet here she was with writers block. Looking down at the screaming faces bulging out from her belly Sara sighed. ‘Guess you won’t be making tomorrows headlines.’
|Story by VoraciousArtistry|
|Artwork by Rosita Amici|
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