I’ve always had an affinity for the night, it feels serene, quiet, and honestly, less complicated. So, I thought working overnight shifts at SpeedyMart, the local convenience store, was a good idea. The first few weeks were uneventful, with an occasional shoplifter or drunken shenanigans. But soon, things started to take a dark turn.
Late one Friday night, around 2 AM, an unusually tall man walked in. His demeanor was unsettling. Dressed in an outdated black suit, a wide-brimmed hat shadowing his gaunt face. His eyes, though, were the most striking - penetratingly cold and bluish-grey. He didn’t say a word, just ambled around the aisles with a slow, purposeful gait.
One by one, he began picking up random items - a jar of pickles, diapers, a romance novel. It was as if he was learning the purpose of each one. He finally came to the counter, placed the items down, and reached inside his coat. I felt a chill crawl up my spine, but he pulled out a few crumpled dollar bills, paid, and left.
I thought that was the end of it. But he returned, every night, like clockwork. The routine was the same: different items every time, never a word, always those chilling eyes. He wasn’t threatening, but his presence filled the store with an uncanny sense of dread.
One night, I gathered the courage to ask, “Anything else I can assist you with, sir?” He paused, those icy eyes meeting mine. Then, he pointed to the back of the store and said, in a voice that sounded like grinding stones, “I’m just checking on an old friend.”
Puzzled, I looked back to where he pointed. There was nothing but a plain wall adorned with a couple of faded posters. The mystery of the man deepened. From that night, I began noticing other strange occurrences. The radio would switch to static, only to resume when he left. The lights would flicker intermittently. Objects moved inexplicably.
One particular night, as I watched him on the CCTV, I noticed something odd. His reflection wasn’t present in the polished freezer doors. A cold shiver ran down my spine as I tried to rationalize what I was seeing - or rather, not seeing.
Every night shift after that became a game of eerie cat and mouse. I started dreading his visits, the odd occurrences, his cryptic words echoing in my mind. But I needed the job. So, I decided to get to the bottom of this.
One afternoon, I met with Mrs. Turner, the old lady who’d lived in town longer than anyone could remember. “Ah, the tall man in the black suit,” she said, her face paling as I described my nightly visitor. “I never thought I’d hear of him again.”
Turner told me a chilling story from decades ago. A man fitting my description was a regular customer at an old diner that stood where SpeedyMart now did. He vanished suddenly one night, leaving no trace. Soon after, the diner owner also disappeared, and the diner was abandoned, then eventually demolished.
Chilled to the bone, I asked, “What happened to them?”
“No one knows,” she said. “They just… disappeared. But rumors spread. They said the man had come for the owner, that he wasn’t… human.”
I went back to work that night, my mind buzzing. The clock struck 2 AM, and as if on cue, the bell above the door jingled. The tall man entered, his eyes meeting mine. I felt a sudden surge of fear, but I steadied myself.
“What happened to the diner owner?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
The man paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “He fulfilled his part,” he said cryptically.
The man left, leaving me shivering in the cold, eerie silence. I considered calling the police, but what could I say? That a customer I thought was a ghost may have caused a disappearance decades ago?
For the first time, he didn’t return the next night, or the one after that. Just as I thought I was free of him, I found an envelope tucked under the store’s door one morning. Inside was a yellowed photograph of a smiling young man standing in front of a diner, along with the tall man in the black suit. It was the old diner owner. On the back of the photograph, scrawled in hasty handwriting, were the words, “The pact is complete. You’re next.”
As dread pooled in my stomach, I realized the chilling truth. The tall man wasn’t just a customer - he was an entity, a spectral debt collector of sorts. And I had somehow taken the place of the diner owner. I was part of this macabre pact now, and I had no idea how to escape it.
Panic settled in after that. I sought help, talking to local priests, paranormal experts, anyone who would listen. Most people dismissed me, but a few tried to help. However, no matter the talismans they gave me or the prayers they taught, nothing deterred the man.
Weeks turned into months. Despite the fear, I had to keep working. I couldn’t leave; the dread of passing this curse onto someone else kept me rooted. The tall man’s appearances grew more frequent. Each time, he’d only stare at me, those pale eyes boring into my soul, before finally leaving me trembling in the cold silence of the store.
I began to see him outside of work too. In my dreams, on the streets, always just out of the corner of my eye. He was like a shadow, silently stalking me, whispering my fate. I felt his gaze when I was alone at night, the air growing colder, the world around me getting quieter.
Eventually, the sleepless nights and constant fear took their toll. I began to wither, growing paler and thinner. People started noticing my haggard appearance and dark-circled eyes. But I had no explanation to offer, no solution to this curse that had taken over my life.
Then one night, as I was locking up the store, I found another envelope under the door. Inside was an old, wrinkled piece of paper. At the top were two words: “The Rules.”
The rules outlined how the pact worked: the entity could claim me only when I no longer wanted to live. To break free, I had to genuinely wish to live, to have a zest for life that the tall man couldn’t quench.
It was then I realized my fear and despair were feeding this entity. The more I wallowed, the stronger he became. Breaking the curse meant fighting for my life, finding joy and reasons to live despite the terror.
I began to fight back. I took steps to improve my health, found hobbies, and started connecting with the people around me. I volunteered at local shelters, started a book club, made friends, even started dating again.
Each day, the tall man’s presence faded a little more. Every smile, every shared laugh, every sunrise I appreciated pushed him further away. It wasn’t easy. Some days, the fear was overwhelming, but I pushed through.
It’s been a year since that realization. I still work at the convenience store, but I haven’t seen the tall man in months. I won’t say he’s gone forever – maybe he’s waiting, watching. But I’ve found a newfound appreciation for life that keeps him at bay.
I often think about that strange pact and why I was chosen. But now, I’m just thankful for the unexpected way it made me cherish my life. After all, sometimes, the darkest nights lead us to the brightest mornings.