Alright. I’ll admit it. When I put in an application for the night shift at the small convenience store twenty kilometers away from my small town, it was, for me, an easy cash grab. Maybe pump gas for a late night traveller, restock the shelves, sweep up a bit, and then chill out for the rest of my shift. That’s what I thought, at least.
By all counts, my hometown is normal- for a small town in the middle of nowhere, that is. Any isolated place is going to be somewhat off putting, and any gas station-convenience store-restaurant hybrid on the highway is going to see it’s share of crazies.
For layout, this store is on the shore of a lake, surrounded by dense forest and not much else. A highway, the only way through this place, passes said store. Like I said, about twenty kilometers east is my small hometown, and beyond that a two hour drive until civilization. To the west, about ten kilometers down the highway, is a dirt road that climbs deep into the canadian shield, avoided by most normal people, and another two hours beyond that, more densely populated towns and such.
Look at me ramble on. This isn’t what you’re here for is it? Well, it might be, but thats not the reason for me writing this. It seems as though my town is a shelter from the strange things that happen up here. Outside of it, however, the rules seem to change.
What rules? Well, all of them, maybe. At least most of them. Hell, I’ve only been here a week and we’ve had three seemingly inebriated men storm in, all on different days, speaking in some language I don’t speak before cussing us out and booking it straight back out into the woods, fish swimming out of the water onto land and into the shop before asphyxiating, and a bloody bear in a trench coat who came in, pulled a tub of ice cream out of the freezer, and pulled the exact change from his trench coat, placing it on the counter as he left. Tax included.
Although, minor disclaimer, my coworker, Esra, smokes a lot of pot, and has more than once hotboxed the store, so I could just be tripping but…. Is that how weed works?
Second disclaimer, I have been diagnosed with some sort of messed up anxiety that causes hallucinations when I get stressed, but that was years ago, and Esra sees most of this stuff too, not that we ever think to take a picture to prove anything to ourselves. Maybe it’s better that way.
Sorry, I’m rambling again. I have my laptop on today’s shift, specifically so I could document the weird shit that happens beyond the safety net of civilization. Tonight did not disappoint.
11pm
It’s been an hour since my shift started, Esra is helping clean up in the restaurant, there’s only one staff member there, I guess. I think Esra said her name was Blair? I’ve never met her. I mean, I spoke with her on the phone when she called up to see if she could have some help cleaning, but Esra was rushing down there before I could react. So, I sit, rambling on while I wait.
11:30pm
Holy shit. Now I know why Blair needed help. Esra came back up to the store, hands stained red.
“Dude, what the fuck?” I asked, half panicking.
“There was a sheep with its throat slit in the restaurant. Pretty gross. I couldn’t get all the blood off my hands.”
I was silent for long enough for Esra to realize what actually just happened.
“Holy shit,” he said.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “holy shit.”
After our shock passed, Esra and I figured we should ask Blair what the hell happened. Unfortunately, by that point, she had left, and we had no way to contact her. We sat in silence for a long while.
11:50pm
A redneck looking man just stopped in, paid for gas, a bag of chips and a 2L soda. I’m only recording this because there was a tarp flapping in the back of his rusty pickup, and something dangling over the side of the truck bed. Not to say it was probably a person, but it looked like an arm. When he walked back out, the redneck quickly pushed the… whatever, back into his truck bed before fixing the tarp and snapping his head back to look at Esra and I. I quickly looked away, but he must have seen me. He opened the passenger side of the truck, pulled something out of it and began to walk toward the store. Thankfully, he stopped before he reached the lights, turning to leave. When he drove off, I couldn’t help but feel I dodged a bullet. Almost literally.
12am
A trucker stopped in to buy food, some of the greasy wrapped pizza slices and a few sandwiches. I started to ring him up, but he just pulled a hundred dollar bill from his wallet and dropped it on the counter.
“Sorry kid, I have to be in [redacted for privacy reasons] by morning, keep the change.”
He hurriedly left and thundered off down the road. Obviously, I checked the bill and, as far as I or the store’s fancy device could tell, it was real. I glanced at the screen to finish the transaction, for inventory purposes, and his total came to just under $11. Thank you kindly sir, if you ever read this.
1:30am
The last hour and a half has been… weird. There’s no other way to put it. It all started shortly after the trucker left, when the store phone rang. As Esra was still in the back ‘restocking’, (more likely tossing), I answered.
“Esra, right?” The voice was female, and somewhat familiar.
“Riley, actually. Can I help you?” Also, who is it?
“I had a bit of an accident. Well, not really an accident.” The speaker sighed. “Look, my car’s in the lake a few minutes toward town. You mind picking me up?”
“Uh, may I ask who this is?”
“Oh for the love of- it’s Blair.” Ohhhhhh.
“Oh, Blair. Well, I still have seven hours on my shift and-”
“I can chill at the store if you can’t get me back to town. It’s only a few minutes by car, but an hour walk. Help a girl out?”
I sighed. “Yeah, I’ll come get you. Let me tell Esra.”
“Thanks.” Blair’s voice had fallen to a near whisper before she hung up. Is that important?
“Esra! I need to pick something up! Back in a bit!”
I pulled my jacket on over my uniform and headed for my car.
“Motherfu-”
Before me stood a lamb. A lamb with seven horns and seven eyes. A lambomination with it’s throat open and pouring blood. In its mouth, a… newspaper? Some sort of rolled up paper.
I glanced down at my coffee before hurling it towards the dumpster.
What the hell did Esra put in that?
The lambomination stared at me blankly, seven eyes, all unblinking. It slowly lowered its head, never breaking eye contact, before touching the rolled up paper with its middle horn, and pushed it toward me.
Drugs. There was one hundred percent drugs in my coffee. Some hallucinogenic something or other.
Right?
I closed my eyes, counted to seven, and reopened them. Just a rolled up stack of paper. No lambomination in sight. As I scooped up what could only now be described as a scroll, I elected to ignore the very clear and distinct puddle of blood next to it. For my own safety.
I continued around to the side of the store, hopped in the shitty old truck twice my age, and tossed the lambomination scroll in the glovebox to read later.
2am
Well then. I met Blair.
She’s around the same age as Esra and I, stunning, but in the most terrifying way possible. The witchy sort of not-quite goth aesthetic really works for her. She’s definitely got a presence, and really isn’t against ripping me a new one for taking too long to pick her up.
Anyway, I bet that you, imaginary reader, are more interested in what happened to her than what she’s like, so here’s what I gathered: fuck all. Her car was totaled and in the lake, and she was nowhere to be found- I had left the truck in order to look- until I started to call out for her, at which point she was suddenly behind me, sopping wet, with her hand over my mouth.
She clearly didn’t want to talk, and since I value my life occasionally, I decided not to ask about the blood all over her, despite her being uninjured.
2:57am
Blair fell asleep in the corner, still in her wet clothes, so I went to the back to find a blanket or something to throw over her. Esra was nowhere to be seen, but I assumed that he was just out back having a smoke. Why he chose this time to do it outside for the first time, I have no idea.
After finding a blanket that only smelled lightly of pot, something else caught my eye- a small shape was rummaging through a box in the corner.
“Um…?”
The figure, a rotund raccoon in what can only be described as posh clothing, turned to face me while holding an open bag of chips, and spoke in an equally posh accent.
“Pardon me, my good business person, is this your establishment? Quite lovely, quite lovely. Worry not, your payment is being shipped as we speak. I would expect it to arrive in three to four business days. But what do raccoons know of mortal concepts of time?” He let out a hearty laugh, and strode past me, out the front door.
Fuckin… sure. Why not.
3:15am
Well, the swelling has gone down enough to type. Note to self: DO NOT THROW A BLANKET OVER Blair. She woke up swinging, and now I’ve got a nice swollen cheek. Never before have I heard such a dismissive apology, but I’ll digress before she reads this and does the other eye.
3:25am
Hey, this just occurred to me. Blair left just after 11. Why the hell was she only a few minutes away? Probably none of my business, actually.