In the LONELY town of Marshfield, Missouri, I, ROBERT, ran an all-night GAS STATION. The only source of BRIGHT light on an otherwise DARK and EMPTY stretch of highway. It was a normal job for the most part, the same MUNDANE routine of counting cigarettes, stacking soda cans, and selling gas to weary truckers. Until that fateful night.
It was a FRIDAY, one of those “end-of-the-world” kind of nights where the SKY was an UNSETTLING mix of black and purple, and the WIND howled like an animal. I was ALONE, my only company being a BUZZING old radio that spat out classic rock songs with a tinny echo.
That’s when the PICKUP TRUCK pulled in. Covered in DUST and GRIME, it COUGHED and SPLUTTERED as it came to a halt by the pumps. And the man who got out? He looked as ROUGH as the vehicle he drove. His clothes were TATTERED and STAINED, his eyes BLOODSHOT and WILD. But it was the LOOK he gave me, a look of FEAR and PARANOIA, that sent a CHILL down my spine.
“Can I help you, sir?” I asked, trying to sound as NORMAL as possible. The man just GRUNTED in response, shoving a couple of crumpled bills across the counter. “Fill ‘er up,” he rasped, his voice like sandpaper. I nodded, unable to shake off the UNEASE that had settled over me.
As I returned to the counter, I noticed the SILENT television we kept for late-night news. A BREAKING NEWS banner flashed across the screen, and an all-too-familiar face stared back at me. It was HIM. The man from the pickup. The man who was currently outside my gas station, filling up his truck.
The headline read: “SERIAL KILLER ON THE LOOSE - ARMED AND DANGEROUS”. I felt my HEART DROP. A surge of adrenaline rushed through my veins, my palms began to sweat. There I was, all alone, stuck in a gas station with a wanted killer.
Panic started to creep in. My mind began to RACE, running through scenarios, none of them ending well. The deafening THUD of my heart echoed in my ears. But I knew panicking wouldn’t help. I had to stay CALM, had to think RATIONALLY.
With one eye on the man outside, I slowly reached for my phone, dialing 911. My hands TREMBLED as I explained the situation to the operator, who assured me help was on the way. I ended the call, PRAYING that the police would arrive before the man finished fueling up his truck.
Suddenly, I heard the bell above the door JINGLE, signaling the man’s return. He looked DIFFERENT now. There was a SICKLY SWEAT on his forehead, his eyes WIDE and WILD, as if he’d seen a ghost.
“Everything okay, sir?” I asked, trying to keep my voice STEADY. “You look a bit pale.”
The man only stared at me, his eyes HARD and UNREADABLE. Then he reached into his pocket, pulling out a GLEAMING object. My heart stopped. It was a KNIFE, the BLADE catching the harsh neon light of the store.
“I need you to forget you ever saw me,” he growled, his voice low and threatening.
I could feel the blood DRAIN from my face. I was in DEEP TROUBLE, and I knew it.
In the face of such UNSETTLING DANGER, the most unexpected emotions and thoughts surface. In my case, it was a STRANGE calm, a resignation that I was in a TERRIBLE situation and had to find a way out of it. “Sure thing, sir,” I replied, forcing a casual nod. “Just another night. Just another customer.”
Suddenly, a pair of HEADLIGHTS lit up the outside of the gas station, drawing the man’s attention. It was the POLICE. As the squad car pulled in, a look of PANIC washed over the man’s face. He glanced at me, his hand still clutching the knife, his mind evidently racing.
The door to the gas station opened, and two POLICE OFFICERS walked in. One of them, a tall woman with a stern face, took a step toward us. “Evening, gentlemen,” she said, her voice brimming with authority. “We received a call. Something about a suspicious individual?”
The man turned to face them, hastily hiding the knife behind his back. But it was too late. The second officer had already seen it. He shouted a WARNING, his hand moving swiftly to his sidearm. The man lunged towards me, but before he could get any closer, the STERN-SOUNDING crack of a GUNSHOT echoed through the gas station.
The man fell to the ground, and an OVERWHELMING wave of relief washed over me. I was SAFE. The POLICE had arrived in time. I had SURVIVED.
That night at the gas station changed my life FOREVER. What was once a peaceful, mundane job became a constant reminder of the HORROR I had experienced. But I take solace in knowing that I helped catch a SERIAL KILLER, that I made a DIFFERENCE.