This story happened five years ago, but it still freaks me out to this day.
I’m a long haul truck driver, I’ve been doing it for most of my adult life. I love the freedom it provides, out on the open road, not stuck behind a desk wearing a suit and tie, I would hate that.
I prefer being by myself, and getting to travel to new places.
Anyway, on the night this incident took place, I had just stopped for the night across from a little diner right outside of Middle-of-Nowhere Nevada.
I figured I would grab a bite to eat before getting some sleep for the night.
The diner was pretty empty, except for a guy leaning over what looked like a cup of coffee in the far corner, and a young couple in one of the booths.
I grabbed a seat at the counter, setting my hat down in front of me.
An older woman with permed red hair and thick coke-bottle glasses approached me from behind the counter. She was holding a pot of coffee in one hand, while the other hand was resting on her hip in a “I’m too old and too tired to be doing this” expression.
“What can I get ya?” She asked in a very unenthusiastic tone.
“Uh, I’ll take a club sandwich please, and a water”
The overworked and underpaid waitress nodded and then headed over to the couple in the booth. The young woman was laughing her head off at something the guy had said.
I turned my attention to the small TV with the antennae situated on top like a pair of rabbit ears. It was late night news, and the reporter was covering a story most people had probably already read about online a few hours ago.
Something about a missing prisoner, yikes.
I had never thought much about the dangers of sleeping on the road until that very moment. I mean, I obviously always locked my doors, and tried to park in a well lit area, if there was one, but other than that, I had never really considered the inherent risks of sleeping in usually sketchy areas with just my flashlight for protection. I know truck drivers are usually thought of as big, burly, intimidating men, but I’m a normal height, average build guy just looking to do my job.
I picked up one of the little creamer cups out of the dish on the counter and started rolling it over in my fingers. The handsome reporter on the TV had handed things off to the even better looking blonde woman giving the winning lotto numbers.
The door to the kitchen swung open, and the waitress emerged with my food and drink balanced on one of those circular black trays.
Thank God, I was starving. I hadn’t eaten since early that morning, and that was just half of a pop tart.
“Thank you” I said as she set the plate in front of me.
“Uh huh” she muttered as she disappeared back into the kitchen.
I had just taken a bite out of my sandwich when the lights overhead started to flicker. There was a faint buzzing noise that went along with it, like an overloaded wire.
Well, that wasn’t too surprising. This diner looked like it hadn’t been upgraded since the 50’s, with the ripped upholstery in most of the seats and the faded blue paint on the walls. It wouldn’t be surprising to learn that this building’s electricity still ran off vacuum tubes.
I continued eating, not really caring why the lights continued their occasional strobing.
I had begun to pull out the small, thin book of crosswords I carried around in the front pocket of my denim jacket, when I heard the sound of the door opening and closing behind me.
Two large men dressed in black suits entered the diner, both looking around before pointing in the direction of the man sitting by himself in the corner. I continued watching them as I ate.
The man at the table was wearing a sweatshirt with the hood pulled over his head, his hands folded neatly on the table in front of him, like a man deep in prayer. It was hard to make out his expression because his face was obscured not only by the hood, but also from the long dark hair sweeping across the bridge of his nose, past his chin.
I swallowed, then took a sip of water as I watched the men in suits sit across from the hooded man.
One of the suit guys was pointing a finger at the man, and then pointing the same finger up towards the ceiling.
The hooded man continued sitting there, not moving a muscle.
I finished off the rest of my food, and finished off the water in a tidy little gulp before standing up and fishing my wallet out of my back pocket. I peeled a ten dollar bill off of the large bundle of 1’s, and laid it on the counter.
It was right as I had put my hat back on and turned to leave, that the lights went out again. Only this time, they stayed out.
That’s about the same time that the waitress came crashing through the swinging door from the kitchen, screaming at the top of her lungs that she couldn’t see.
At first I thought that she was having a very dramatic reaction to the lights being out, but then I realized she actually meant something far worse.
Blood was running from underneath those thick black glasses, onto the grease stained apron which hung from her neck.
“Oh my God, help me! Help me!” She screamed, running like a chicken with its head cut off.
I was just about to lunge over the counter to help her when another scream shouted out from my right.
This one was the young man that was sitting with his girlfriend.
Only, HE wasn’t the one who was hurt.
His girlfriend had collapsed onto the floor, violently convulsing on the ground as she started to foam at the mouth.
“Holy shit, somebody call 911!” the young man shouted. He was kneeling next to the girl, cradling her head in his arms.
“Oh my God, shit shit shit!” I shouted as I sprinted through the front door of the diner.
As I was running, I noticed the man that had been sitting in the corner. His hood was off, and he was standing now, as the two suited men lay by his feet. There was something horribly wrong about his face, but I couldn’t tell exactly what it was in my hurry to get to my truck.
My phone was in there, and I needed it if there was any hope of getting these people help.
I ran across the silent, empty street and then slammed into my driver’s side door. I frantically moved all of my papers and empty wrappers around before finding my phone next to the seat.
I dialed 911 and looked back across the street at the diner.
My mouth dropped open as the dispatcher’s voice said “Hello? Hello?” into my ear.
The small building was completely engulfed in flames. Smoke was rising up into the night sky, obscuring the view of the stars.
Against the backdrop of that orange fireball, was the figure of a man, slowly walking towards me.
I threw the phone into the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat. I locked the doors and looked through the windshield. The man was gone.
I pulled my keys out of my pocket with trembling hands and started the engine.
I slammed my foot on the gas pedal and turned onto the road.
That’s when I saw him.
He was standing in the middle of the street, perfectly still, watching my truck as I drove away.
Only this time, I could actually see his face, and that is what still gives me nightmares to this day.
His face was illuminated by the fire, and I could see that the skin was pale white, paler than snow, and the eyes were even whiter than that.
There were no eyebrows, and the lips were turned upwards into an awful sneer, exposing the rows of long yellow teeth within its mouth.
I escaped that day, but I know he is still out there. IT is still out there.
And it may be coming for you next.