A Rapacious Appetite

📅 Published on October 29, 2023

“A Rapacious Appetite”

Written by Eli Pope
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available

ESTIMATED READING TIME — 15 minutes

Rating: 8.00/10. From 5 votes.
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Part One

It was early on in my childhood that I understood what the definition of gluttony was. Or at the very least a hungry dose of greed. My family was engulfed in such. My grandma always said there wasn’t much difference ‘tween the two and both led to destruction.

“It’s a mortal sin, William. Ask your momma. Or just look at her for cryin’ out loud. You just can’t pry her eyes away from the television and her lips away from the candy to get her dang attention. Your daddy too, ‘cept his gluttony’s hold over him is women and his nasty lustful thoughts. I’m his momma and I can spot that unrighteous look in his eyes every time. And from a mile away, due tell.” Her wrinkled and twisted up finger would attempt to point at me as if it were a heavenly sword from her savior wielding the good Lord’s word like a sharp threatening blade of eternal condemnation. “Don’t you turn out like either one of them. They’ll be dancing in the devil’s flame when the taste of their self-indulgence overtakes their body’s will to keep up with their demand. Sinful ways, William, sinful ways.” She paused long enough to ask, “William, darlin’ boy—would you be a dear and bring another two-liter of Diet Coke over here to me? I got a cravin’ for that fizz that cannot be quenched! Maybe another bag of Doritos too, honey.”

My mind was drowning. All I wanted to do was get back my video game. I hate people, I thought quietly to myself.

Her wrinkly dark face and long stringy and wiry white hair, beady eyes and accusatory words always left me with a stomach full of uneasiness. The clomp of her walker shuffling through the hallway towards my room after she’d finally force herself off the recliner long enough to go to the bathroom always brought an eyeroll to my face. Hearing her bumping into and instantly tripping over another box of junk my mom had purchased usually brought a smile to me. Wherever the packaged ended up after leaving my momma’s hands—well— that was the new keeping place for it to be until Grandma dang near fall. Only then would it be maneuvered to another semi-permanent parking spot in overstuffed house.

So, yeah, I knew what the meaning of the word gluttony was. I lived all around it, or it lived all around me, I should say. I basked in the misery of it. My only escape was school, and kids are supposed to hate school. I found it my sanctuary. That, and Sandy Mae, a classmate in my class. A very pretty classmate.

Part Two

I reckon when it comes to hoarding and gluttony—I knew the words and the Webster’s definition of them—but what I didn’t know was what the true outcome of those meanings were. Not the final hold those odd quirky words really held. The deep control and life-altering power over a person’s personality that they could bring. Much too deep a concept for a nine-year-old boy to fully understand. It was just life. I thought everyone lived the same way until I met Sandy Mae Clydesman. I guess in some odd way, she felt like a soulmate. Another word that I knew the definition of but didn’t actually swallow the entire concept. All I really knew was that my thoughts inside my head were full of thinking about her. Those thoughts grew to be the only thing that kept me from going totally mental on my ‘family’. The circle of people that I knew deep down loved me, were quickly becoming the poison that was slowly killing me. Each one of them, completely swallowed by their own consuming demons. All labeled under the same name even though they were different flavors. An insatiable appetite that could never be quenched. Gluttony. It was even labeled one of the seven mortal sins by Pope Gregory 1. While the bible doesn’t hold the list within its pages, it does state that gluttony is the path towards self-destruction. Something I took notice of as I grew older.

I’m not saying that I’m a bible reader, ‘cause I was never really brought up around it, other than tiny, most likely misquoted by my grandma, but Sandy Mae’s family drug her to church every Sunday, so I reckon that’s where I picked up what little I knew about Jesus or faith stuff. I do know that as I got older, I witnessed that most of any rules set in the bible, were broken in some way by every person that lived in our house, gluttony being number one, followed by lust. Grandma said he was the king of it, and I better not follow in his shoes. “William, even shoes made of asbestos won’t keep those hot coals of hell from singeing your soles—or your soul. Mark my words! And be a darling and bring me another 2-liter, grandson. I’m thirsty!” It didn’t take long for me to wonder if her soda was the devil’s drink ushering her closer to the edge of the cavern of moaning souls with each gulp.

Part Three

Sandy Mae Clydesman. My savior. She taught me so many things from that first time in fifth grade that I looked up and actually noticed her looking at me from across the lunchroom as I searched for a table to sit at. An area she sat alone in that wasn’t full of the same kind of people like my family, only stuffed into smaller younger packages before being filled with brokenness in the form of adult self-first greed. Our eyes met and she smiled and then nodded at me. I took it as an invitation to cross the invisible line of separation and sit at with her at her empty table. I nervously meandered her way still questioning myself if I really saw what I thought I saw in her welcoming face. Before that day—my savior had come in the form of Grand Theft Auto, a video game my grandmother would have reprimanded me with an iron fist had she known what it contained. My mom would never have even noticed, too wrapped up in herself and dad busy on his own computer in his office, “working” even though the entire family knew better. But GTA was my only world of escape at home. I was becoming obsessed with it. I’d been surrounded by a family who were each drowning themselves with their own ways of escaping each other. Why not join? It’s the way the world worked. Punch the clock and live for quitting time so you could go back to your cave and bury yourself in whatever your personal poison was. Work or School, it didn’t matter, it was the part of life one was forced into. Quitting time brought punching out of that world and clocking into your own compulsion.

That was life until Sandy Mae. She changed everything at a time I suffered for a transformation I hadn’t yet fully realized that I needed. Much like a ‘come-to-Jesus- moment like I’d heard the term my grandmother use, she entered my thoughts that day at the lunch table in the form of an inviting smile and an openness to herself no one had ever before offered me. She didn’t obsess over anything—no visible poison appeared to hold any control over her. She gave and didn’t seem compelled to receive a hundred times over her efforts given out. It quickly became harder and more difficult to leave the school-world I shared with Sandy Mae and the gift of learning in exchange for that of home, wading through all the unused boxes of collected stuff to the circle of each of my family members idiosyncrasies. Mom and her television surrounded by boxes of clutter, Grandma and her Diet Coke and Doritos, and Dad locked up in his office on his computer doing whatever he was that I didn’t even want to picture. They’d been sucking the life out of me without my realizing it. Sandy was going to save me from the mire of the oncoming train I’d seen barreling down on me a long time ago but held no clue how to become untethered from the track I was leashed so tightly to. The track it was racing ever closer to colliding with me which would eventually leave me devastated with the same mental injuries it had left my family with. They were all so broken. They didn’t even realize they’d become slaves to a hidden desire that brought them no real pleasure anymore, just more emptiness no matter how desperately they tried to fill the void. They’d each likely began on the hamster wheel scampering as quick as their mental feet would take them. Enamored by their desires likely masking a genetic pain passed down from their parents. Racing at an unimaginable pace at first but slowly tiring not realizing the light at the end of the tunnel was slowly dimming and slowing their path from ever achieving the ecstasy deviously promised by giving into its empty covenant.

I’d escaped all that now! Sandy was beautiful, intelligent, sweet, and sultry. I could drink her in forever. I went from sipping to ravenously gulping—very quickly. She became ‘everything’ in my confused world very quickly. Grand Theft Auto became a desire that no longer held control of me. I didn’t come home as regularly and scamper to my room behind the closed door of playing with other online souls I’d never known anything about other than their call signs. In fact, I only came home to sleep for the most part. No one questioned where I was or when I came in. They are too indulged in their own emptiness, and I lost all care about trying to save them. I had my own world now and it was so different from where they had become trapped. I was free. The end of my senior year of high school couldn’t end quick enough. It was time to tug at the leash and break free from chain I’d been bound.

Part Four

The first business trip away from my anchor was tough. My world felt void the entire week. Nights without that blanket of Sandy’s flesh against my skin the first night alone in the hotel was miserable. I tossed and turned all night unable to catch more than ten or fifteen minutes of sleep at a time. I laid in that cold empty bed thinking of nothing but my ravenous appetite for Sandy to beg me into succumbing to her sexual desires like she had since being married. We were still fresh like wild animals, both of our bodies accustomed to ending each night in sweat-filled ecstasy. I was unfilled and unsatisfied without it to the point of being able to do nothing but toss and turn like a junkie without his fix. What could I fill that void with? This had only been the first night alone. I had four more to go. How could I function in my job—my obligation to the company—if sleep avoided me each night? My mind became chaos. I hungered with a desire I wasn’t used to being denied. Something would need to remedy this unfortunate spot I was in.

After night two of wrestling with myself mentally without sleep and even caving into what I knew my father had succumbed and likely become addicted to, the act of self-gratification, I quickly realized that wasn’t going to work. My eyelids were heavy enough to slide down and obscure the sight of my eyes from being seen, but my mind would not shut down. How would I make it through the day and the dry meetings I had to attend? Was I somehow being tested? I needed Sandy so much I thought about calling her and begging her to travel to where I was and satisfy my need to be with her. I laughed subconsciously at the thought of my being her slave. What was going on?

After the long, long day of meetings at the conference—I decided to break a rule I swore I wouldn’t ever break. After all, I’d broken one already. I wasn’t going to become my dad—but—I did decide to stop by the liquor store to purchase a bottle of ‘sleep aid’ in the form of vodka. I’d heard it held no specific taste, something of which I wasn’t looking for. I didn’t have any desire to form a habit, I just needed sleep. I was quickly coming to the realization I had already formed somewhat of a habit. One which had apparently snuck up on me like a tiger in the grass. A tiger in the form of my wife. I wondered if I had become one with her entity that I was unable to function without. There was that one word I detested and swore I would never ever fall into its clutches. Gluttony in a rather rare form through marriage? I asked myself as I opened my wallet pulling out the twenty-dollar bill to pay for my medication. Vodka. I’d held no clue of what brand I should purchase. I’d never tasted any form of alcohol before being much too aware of its ability to become a habit too greedy to break. I didn’t want to enjoy it. I wanted to use it as an aid—nothing more. I grabbed my change and left with my brown paper bag, wrapped tightly around the neck of the bottle nestled inside. It wasn’t a high-dollar brand, but it didn’t matter. I was going to mix it with orange juice and drink it down like bitter cough syrup, not giving myself time to enjoy it. The act of gluttony took time. One couldn’t faulter and lose control in a short time. It was a slow process. It came in like a sloth, slowly luring an already empty soul into its grip. I wasn’t empty. I was just tired, and I missed my wife, my life back home.

Part Five

“William?” Sandy’s voice questioned through the cell phone I held to my ear. “What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”

“Uh—I… I… can…. can’t… I… I… haven’t been able… to… to… sheep.” I spoke as my eyes blurred. I knew my words hadn’t come out right. They’d spilled out from lips very unruly.”

“What’s going on, William? Why haven’t you called me? You’re supposed to be home already—did your flight get delayed?” My wife questioned in a voice filled with concern.

I suddenly felt very different than I did mere seconds before my phone had rung. I felt caught. Snared like a wild animal in a trap.

“William! I asked you a question. What’s going on?”

“Hey Willy… whatcha doin’?”

“William! Who is that?”

The firmness in her voice was something I’d not been used to hearing. I quickly turned to the woman who’d just come out of my bathroom and held my finger to my lips, shooshing her before directing my drunken attention back to Sandy.

“That’s the tele… televizzion… honey….” I knew I was in deep trouble, but my first inclination was to laugh. I did choke it back. But turning and seeing the naked woman crawling back into my bed brought an evil smile back to my face. “I… gotta… I… gotta go… San… Sandy….” CLICK. What the hell did I just do? I quietly asked myself in mid-panic. My mind began to blur before seeing the sheets on the hotel bed slowly pulled away exposing the naked vixen lying with her legs willingly open wide—inviting me as she also held the nearly empty bottle of vodka.

“You coming back to bed, baby cakes?”

I knew I needed to come up with a plan, but that’s not what I did. I stumbled back into bed and took the bottle of vodka from—oh hell, “What’s your name?”

“It’s Joanne, but—you can call me any name you like, Willy.”

I took the bottle from her hand and spilled some into the glass still filled with an ice cube or two that was still surviving in a semi-frozen state mixed with watered down orange juice. As I pulled it to my lips, I accidently splashed some of the citrusy contents onto—Joanne’s breasts and stomach. “Oops.” I muttered as I tried to hold the glass steady while dipping my face into her chest and began slurping up what was spilled. Joanne giggled as she pushed my head lower to her belly where more dribbles had splash landed. Just where did she come from? I asked myself as I looked around the room and saw several bottles of vodka lying in various places—all empty. What had I done and how long had we been doing this? My mind is blank. What would Sandy Mae do? I’d basically hung up on her. Our life was not like this. I wasn’t like this. Memories of my childhood came flooding upfront. Close and personal. Was I being drawn back to the ways of my family’s messed up lifestyle by biology or genetics? I stared at the glass in my hand and drew it to my mouth, chugging its contents in one large gulp. I looked down at myself, at my raging erection and then over to—Joanne. I suddenly forgot all about Sandy Mae until I hollered out her name as I climaxed. My body went entirely flaccid. I was spent. I don’t know how many nights of sleep I’d missed, but I fell hard. The last thing I remember before everything going black was the sound of a woman telling me I was fantastic, that I should be a porn star.

Part Six

My head pounded. It was the first thing I felt. I couldn’t believe how much it hurt. My mouth was dry, and my hands and feet felt very numb. I attempted to roll over to my side, but I felt tethered to something and unable to move. My skin suddenly prickled into a thousand goosebumps as my vision began to gain clarity. I smelled a very familiar scent. It smelled like—like I remembered Sandy smelling. I lifted my head to try and gaze around at my surroundings. They too appeared vaguely familiar. Maybe a hotel room? It wasn’t home, I knew that. Things slowly began to piece themselves together inside my head.

“Is it all becoming clearer, William?”

My head snapped towards the voice I knew very well.

The television was on. It was louder than I’d ever liked listening. A soap opera playing or something very fake and mundane. Something my mother would have watched. My eyes moved around the room and next to the tv sat a couple of 2-liter bottles of Diet Coke along with a bag of Doritos.

“What the—Momma?” I called out. “Is that you?”

I heard two distinctly different sounds. Neither sounding anything like my mother’s. There was a muffled groan and then—then—a very familiar voice, but in a much darker and deeper tone.

“Well, well, William. When the cats away—the mice—it seems—do play.”

My eyes cleared instantly as did my previously fogged over mind. My gaze darted around the room until my sight met my wife’s. “Sandy? What are you doing here?” I heard the muffled moan again and turned opposite of my wife and found—Joanne lying next to me. My neck stretched and turned as I lifted my head to see Joanne wearing something stuffed and tied across her mouth. She was still naked, her eyes as wide open as possible. White surrounding her iris’ and pupils as if she were a doe staring and filled with fright as the oncoming headlights were racing towards her. My head snapped back the opposite direction to Sandy. “What the—.”

“Oh, William—do continue please. Tell me just exactly how you ended up like this.”

The tone was as cold as I’ve ever heard. Condemning just like my grandmother’s.

“I… I… couldn’t… I missed you. I mean… so… so much I couldn’t… I couldn’t sleep. I…”

“Oh, I see. None of this… none of this is your fault. It’s well, it’s all your family’s fault. It’s… it’s the vodka’s fault… or… or… maybe the whore’s fault.” She spoke in a doubting mocking voice. “I should just… what? Forgive and forget? We shared vows. Commitments. We shared an entire high school relationship that led to marriage. Of course, I should overlook all of that for this—first time out-of-town—business trip.” She sneered as the girl who lie in total fear next to me pulled at her restraints as she groaned through tears of fright.

“Sandy—I can explain. It’s not entirely what it looks like. She’s innocent. Let her go. It’s all my fault.”

“Let her go? Does a country let a traitor go when they’re caught trading secrets against their own?” She quizzed in a monotone voice. “I don’t think so, William. In fact, I’ll show you what a guilty party participating in an insurrection should receive.” She got up and walked over towards the television. She first picked up the remote and turned the volume up louder before placing the device back onto the table and grabbing the bag of Doritos. She opened the bag and let the excess air from it and began crushing the bag together, turning the chips into likely crushed feed. She then picked up a 2-liter of Diet Coke and walked the two items slowly over to the side of the bed next to Joanne.

Sandy smiled wickedly, staring directly into my eyes. “I saved you from your family, William. From their self-indulgence and greed of things that were no good for them. No good for you. I guess one can lead a horse to water—but….” Sandy reached over and tugged at the gag over Joanne’s mouth. Before she could utter a word, Sandy took the open bag or Doritos and poured them into Joanne’s mouth which was forces to remain open by Sandy pinching open each side of her cheeks. Sandy emptied the contents of the bag into Joanne’s mouth until crumbs began to spill over the side of her lips. She calmly laid the bag down and grabbed up a bottle of Diet Coke and began pouring it into the mixture. “Here you go, honey. Let me give you an over-abundance of snacks like William’s mother enjoyed all the way until she died from it.” She kept pouring the liquid as it spilled over and bubbled up in a fizzing frothy mess. Joanne coughed and choked as her eyes stared open wide and bulging from their sockets in terror.

I pulled at my bound wrists as if both of lives depended on escaping and saving her. The harder I pulled the tighter the cinch on my hands became. Every muscle heaved and strained as I begged Sandy to stop and let Joanne spit the contents out. Sandy’s eyes darkened even deeper into blackness as beads of sweat dripped from her forehead and her face contorted even more. Joanne kicked and wrangled to break free as she fought for just one deep breath to be taken in. I don’t know how long it was before her body gave up the fight for survival, but I watched in horror as Sandy kept refilling her mouth with Diet Coke as it mixed like concrete with the broken and crushed chips until there was no longer any movement from her. Her head fell limply towards mine, her eyes wide open and blank. Hollow and empty of life. I couldn’t imagine what her last moments had been like even though I’d watched unable to look away as badly as I wanted.

I knew now that there was no way I wouldn’t be next in Sandy’s form of retribution. I’d fallen into my parent’s life of gluttony even though I’d fought it so desperately with everything I had. I knew in that moment that it had begun far earlier than now. Sandy had been my self-indulged greed. So heavily reliant on her that when she was removed from my reach—there was a need that still had to be filled.

Sandy opened a bottle of vodka and slowly stepped closer to me. Her eyes no longer held the beauty of blue that I’d fallen for all those years back in school. Her body no longer held the same craving to become one with mine that it had just a week or—hell, I no longer knew how long I’d been gone. I’d fallen into some chasm of self-destruction without ever realizing what my actions were doing. The greed too deeply rooted inside me. I didn’t feel the need or desire to fight what I knew was coming. I tried to smile as she drew the bottle closer to my mouth. I voluntarily opened it up enough for her to easily pour it in until it was empty, my gasping for air as quietly as possible. I somehow fought to die with as much dignity as a gluttonous fool could. After all, I was what I came from. The seed I’d sprouted from was biologically matched with perfection from the maker above. Live by the sword, die by sword—no matter how hard I’d tried to deny that sword was mine.

The last thing I remember seeing before I faded into black was the Proverb inked on the wall by what appeared to be red lipstick.

It read very clearly:

Philippians 3:19
“Their end is destruction, their god is their belly, and they glory in their shame, with minds set on earthly things.”

 

Rating: 8.00/10. From 5 votes.
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🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available


Written by Eli Pope
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

🔔 More stories from author: Eli Pope


Publisher's Notes: N/A

Author's Notes: N/A

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Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

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