The potato salad is gone.
Either I'm sleep eating or someone's stealing my food. The latter seems unlikely since I'm alone in the space outpost.
Every day, twice at least, and five times at most, I beep a signal deep into the void of space, so lost space ships can find their way.
It's probably night now, though with no star for several light years, I can't really tell. Only my stomach seems to know and it wants a greasy mayo covered potato salad, pronto. Too bad. It's gone. I shrug and seat myself with the only other option until the food transport truck comes two days from now: a Lettuce salad.
I never liked the color green, especially on vegetables, but it looked extra sickening on the Lettuce today. Green. Really green. Super green. I can't eat this. I slam my fork down and go back to the control room. Sorry stomach.
All alone. The afro haired newscaster, my only companion. I'm glad to hear another human's voice. "Today, another outpost patrol officer was found dead with her abdomen torn open. According to authorities, there was no sign of forced entry. This incident follows a string of deaths of outpost officers operating in the shadow areas. If you have any information--."
A short clip of a long nylon wrapped figure being stretched away into a morgue ship was playing out on the screen.
I turned the TV off. Then flashed the last beacon for the night.
Through the corridors I shuffled on, dragging tired soulless feet. Sleep. I need sleep. I can't bear to be awake anymore, and the stomach pangs are getting worse. Maybe I should've eaten that Lettuce salad.
Green. Tasteless. Unsavory. No!
I collapse into the bed, instantly regretting it when my face goes through the thin mattress and slams into the concrete bed frame. Custom-made to keep officers on top of their game in case of an emergency. The Heads up top must be sadist.
Twisting and turning, when sleep finally starts to take me, I hear a chewing sound like someone's eating potato salad with their mouths open. Lip smacking on lip. The kind of sound your mother would've sent you away from the dining table for.
I lay awake, listening. Maybe it's the killer who's been killing outpost officers. That gets me on my feet. I need to get to the control room.
I stick my head into the corridor. Just the dim lights steadily on in energy saving mode. Nothing out of the ordinary. No sound. Except for the chewing sound.
In the control room, I take a laser gun and seat myself beside the SOS button. But someone's still making that chewing sound.
Something tugs at my shirt. I look down to see the shirt moving in the gut area. In that moment the shirt rips from the chest area, and the torn part gets chewed by a giant mouth in my gut.
It belches. "Hungry."
Word Count -- 497 [excluding Author's Note]
Hope you were spoooked by it.
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Competing Flash FictionGeneral Fiction
A collection of works for various Wattpad competitions and writing prompts. Ranging from 100 to 1000 words, but on average around 500 words. The works are arranged randomly. But the ones at the top are either recent, winners, or received good-ish...