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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/EmmyLee666 on 2024-10-15 08:08:49+00:00.
I won’t bore you with the drivel I’m sure you’d expect of a doomed woman. I’ve made peace with it, and I urge you to not attempt changing my mind.
I first encountered it at the mall, in the food court, with my friend, Jessie. There wasn’t much irregular about the day, we had a habit of meeting – provided we were free – at the mall on Saturdays. We had just finished some routine shopping and Jessie insisted that we ordered something to eat before we left. When I told them that I didn’t have money to be spending on food they shook their head and said that they would pay for it.
We approached the desk of an outlet which seemed to have moved in within the previous week, as neither of us recalled seeing it the Saturday previous. Above the outlet glowed a neon yellow sign which read ‘Esser’ and behind an off-white counter there was a short, disturbingly skeletal man who tapped the countertop in an off-beat pattern. Behind him, the walls and floors appeared stained, but Jessie insisted we ordered food there, citing their admittedly appeasing menu and Jessie’s love for Indian food. Despite my own sanitary concerns and the unease the emaciated man inspired in me at the idea that maybe, just maybe, we may not be so different, I agreed.
I rarely have two meals a day, if one. Yet I insist to all who make my acquaintance that I am quite chubby, no matter if a scale would disagree. I do not leave my house unless in the company of the few friends I have as when I am alone I become hopelessly frightened and get myself into frequent embarrassment.
So when Jessie finished their order, then informed me that they would not order for me as well, I stared at them scornfully and shook my head. They pushed it no further and to their credit, they did not know about my aversion to eating as far as I am aware; they did know, however, that I was deathly afraid of talking to people in even marginally pressured environments such as at a fast-food joint.
The man had seemed friendly enough though, his eyes lit up and he smiled widely at Jessie when they ordered. Yet I thought of it as a minor victory as I had a viable excuse to why I was not going to eat. I was planning to pick at the food while Jessie ate, then carry it home and toss it in the fridge. I would eat it eventually, of course, the very next day; I was above wasting my friend’s money, but I had already eaten before I came. I think I did at least.
We waited for the man to give us a receipt, but he just walked into the back, and came out with a Styrofoam box in a bag and my friend’s coke. He thanked us ecstatically for ordering, wished us a good day, then walked out from behind the desk, and disappeared into the business of the mall. I exchanged a strange look with Jessie but we just chuckled and shrugged it off.
Jessie and I didn’t linger longer at the mall after that, neither of us particularly liked the noise of conversation (Jessie tolerated it better than I did), so we got into my car. Jessie ate while I ventured to return them to their apartment. They made strange comments about the food. They said that the food was extremely warm, as if the man had just cooked it when he handed it over, and that it tasted unbelievably good for a place that we had never heard of. After they finished dancing their fork from the food and to their mouth, they muttered that they felt heavy but not fulfilled.
I arrived at their apartment complex soon after and they hugged me and wished me home safely. Before they walked off though, they said that they needed me to visit on Wednesday night; they had something to give me. I nodded, told them I would be there and drove home, thinking nothing of the day.
The apartment complex in which Jessie lived was scarcely maintained, and the hallways which connected the various rooms together had an air of decay about them. The ceiling panels were fallen or hanging in various areas, the walls were moist where the tenants within could afford air conditioning, and there was an old, pervasive, dusty smell present within each suite, or at least I assumed so, Jessie never was able to rid themselves of it.
When Jessie opened the door to let me in on Wednesday, it seemed the necrotic aspect of the building spread even to them. Their eyes lacked the brightness I knew of them, instead seeming to be quite sunken and sleepy. Jessie stood with the door half open, not quite inviting me to enter.
“Is everything okay?” A frown tugged at the corner of my lips. I thought Jessie had to be ill.. I then perhaps rudely forced my way into their apartment, I wanted to ensure that Jessie was taking care of themself. However, after I pushed the door open, I noticed that my friend’s arm seemed to be held behind their back, but then noticed that they simply lacked the appendage.
I stared at them for a few seconds and tears welled in their eyes. They seemed like they were about to cry so I guided them towards their couch and allowed them to do so. They broke down, sobbing about… hunger. They held their hands on their forehead and made no effort to wipe their eyes or nose as they precipitated. I told them I understood their woes, by misfortune of my own condition, and that even if they felt themselves to have gained what they considered to be an ‘unacceptable’ amount of weight; it would simply not do to starve.
“Jess, look in the mirror! You look wired, your lips are cracked,” I lowered my gaze to their torso, and it seemed that either they had lost more weight than I would’ve imagined was possible in such a timeframe, or they had gone out of their way to wear a shirt that was several sizes too big. Yet, my mind returned to Jessie’s lost extremity.
“What the hell happened? To your arm I mean,”
“You don’t get it! You won’t get it. I- I ate-“
“What?”
Jessie grabbed my wrist with their remaining arm, “You need to eat, Emily. Promise me you’ll eat.”
“What are you going on about? I don’t understand, you ate your arm?”
“No! I didn’t eat my goddamn-“ they chuckled grimly, “I said you wouldn’t understand. He ate it. The Esser, he said that if I just give in, if I just eat, then he’ll make it quick, he’ll make the first bite end it all before he eats me whole, and then I won’t know this- this void anymore. Promise me you’ll eat, and make it quick! Once it takes hold, nothing feels like it has any weight anymore.”
I just nodded and sat awkwardly, gently pulling my arm from their grasp. They smiled at me and got up. They retrieved a sheaf of two papers from their kitchen counter, written on which was an annotated copy of ‘The Conqueror Worm’ by Edgar Allan Poe. I had begged Jessie in months past to read the poem (which I intended to joke about) and honestly thought it had slipped their mind.
“I was hoping to give you this with higher spirits, y’know, as a token of friendship,” they smiled wistfully, “Remember me.”
I didn’t know how to feel as I drove home. Neither did I when I sat at my table and ate a proper meal to fulfill my friend’s strange last request. Afterwards, I went to sleep, naively hoping that when I awoke, it would be revealed that the day was nothing more than a dream, or a well-executed joke.
When I awoke, there was a man standing in the corner of my room, the same man, I realized, who stood behind the register at Esser. He looked mournful, yet noticeably less skeletal than when I’d seen him at the mall.
He told me that he was the lord of the flies. He told me that he was sorry for what had to happen, but everything had to eat, and he had no other choice than to come to reap my ‘lacklustre’ mass due to my association with Jessie. Then, he got up, and ran straight through my window, breaking it.
I knew better than to doubt my sobriety, and I knew, failing insanity, that this entity was real. I fell into a deep depression for the next day or so. I didn’t eat; I didn’t call any of the few other friends I had. I merely lay on my bed, showered, and went on my phone. I wondered if I was failing Jessie by not doing as they asked, and though it seemed pointless, I made an effort to make myself a rather large sandwich.
I sank my teeth into the fibre of the sandwich and felt the slimy bolus slide down my throat and into my stomach. I still felt guilty, but I consider promises sacred and I would feel much guiltier betraying one I made.
When I woke up the next day, my hand was gone. There was a grievous wound which was haphazardly stitched shut, and caused me to gag as I looked on the raw flesh. I think, through a lucky delusion, I deduced correctly that it was missing due to my eating. The sandwich probably weighed as much as my hand did. I tended to blame things unreasonably on my eating though, as I’ve been told.
That day, due to said delusion, I refused to eat.
That night, I was watching a TV show on my laptop, sat on my couch, when I felt its presence next to me. It didn’t seem hostile, merely sitting next to me and in fact, it disarmed me when I noticed that it was watching my laptop as I was. However, its stomach growled constantly, every few seconds, and it fidgeted as if in withdrawal.
“Aren’t you hungry?” It asked, its voices were soft and numerous. Like a wave of cotton blanketing me.
I blinked at it and looked into what passed as its eyes. I saw in its eyes not quite the worry which I had become familiar with getting from friends and family, but rather, a hint of fear, maybe even desperation. I recalled what Jessie had said to ...
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