“Listen man...”, the curly headed giant who stood across from me held his breath and cocked his head. His eyes were large and vacant, staring off into nothingness. His gaze sat just above my shoulder.
I turned to look behind me, to see what his eyes were fixed upon. The giant freezer door stood ominously tall, a mess of random stickers littered its surface like neon vomit. I winced at how bright it seemed to be.
My flesh warmed and prickled, a soft flurry of hot breaths began to push at the back of my neck. I turned quickly, taking a hasty step backward. The curly haired man, my boss, stood hunched over, his wild eyes and gaped mouth mere inches away. Still, his gaze stayed fixed upon the freezer door.
Suddenly, as though they were being pulled by strings through wet cement, his pupils met mine.
“Sorry about that, I think I have a migraine”, his voice was robotic, it felt unusually rehearsed as opposed to his normal, jovial attitude. He turned and walked stiffly toward the line before pulling out a tub of diced onions. He reached in the tub far deeper than need be, the white chunks now enveloping his wrist.
“You been working since this morning or something?”, I asked, though my voice came out at just above a whisper. I felt afraid, even though the atmosphere at my job had always been so light.
He raised his eyebrows, keeping his gaze fixed upon the onion mound. Slowly, his hand rose from the tub as he brought an enormous handful to his mouth. The whirring and buzz of the kitchen was soon drowned out by the wet gnashing of raw onion in my bosses mouth. The stench seemed all encompassing.
A minute passed of that wretched chewing, then another as I paused to look down at my hands. The red eye in the bird tattoo on my forearm appeared to dart back and forth at alarming speed. I could feel my heart pound against my shirt.
I looked back up, the lights overhead casted a harsh glow which made the kitchen appear as though it was made from clay. I darted for the bathroom, trying to keep as much distance between myself and my boss as I bobbed along. He swept his hand in front of me, stopping me in my tracks.
“Here, this will make you feel better”, his hand hovered over the pit of stinky onions before suddenly plunging into it with startling ferocity.
I couldn’t help but be enamored by the grotesque spectacle before me.
His hand sloshed around the tub for a bit, slinging chunks in the process, before excavating yet another large handful of the stuff. He brought the pile just below my nose. My eyes began to well up with tears.
I tried my best to swallow the lump which had formed in my throat, though it did little to free the knot. I looked up into my bosses eyes, still vacant, staring at his own trembling hand as chunks of onion began slithering down to the floor.
“I just need a cigarette, I’ll be right back”, I blurted as I pushed past the large man, passing that freezer door and skittering down the hallway next to it. The hallway seemed to stretch and lengthen itself as my pace quickened even further. I swear I could feel the floor beginning to stick and tear at my feet as though it were beginning to melt, pulling me down with it.
It all came to a sudden stop, my head buzzing like a full hive would in the Summertime. I opened my eyes and was blinded by the lights as I stared at the ceiling. Calmness washed over my being, I had nearly lost my cool. Silly me, running into the exit door. I really need to get some meds or something.
I stood up, brushing all the dirt and grime I could off my shirt before pushing the door open. The cool Fall air was electric against my clammy skin, though it was a welcome change from the poorly ventilated kitchen. I leaned against the wooden fence which lined the exterior of our bar and grill. Funny where life takes you, huh?
Maybe teachers are more truthful than we thought.
I pulled the crumpled up pack of Newport’s out of my pocket and fished out a particularly crooked one, bringing it to my lips. There’s something so oddly satisfying about the spark of a worn out Bic lighter, maybe because it wasn’t supposed to last this long anyways. As the flame connected with the tip of my cigarette, a series of blinding flashes emanated from the back parking lot.
I took a long drag and sneakily peered around the edge of the fence, my heart beat an unsteady, painful hum.
Oddly, the back lot was brimming with cars as opposed to its usual barren state. Even stranger were the hazard lights blinking perpetually on each one of them. I blinked a few times and rubbed my temple, the harsh throbbings of a headache had begun to take hold of my weary mind.
A few more drags and l had finally worked up the courage to truly begin my shift. I pushed the door back open. The lights seemed to have dimmed down some.
I walked slowly, calculatingly down the hallway and hesitantly peered into the kitchen. My boss stood hunched over a cutting board, hiding whatever laid upon it with the crook of his elbow. His eyes seemed bloodshot and intense, staring vigorously at whatever it was he was covering.
“Whatcha doin, Alan?”, I said in the friendliest tone I could muster. It’s hard to seem relaxed when you have to tell yourself to do so. My muscles seem to ache, the tenseness all consuming.
I swear I could hear his neck creak and whine as his head shifted slowly towards me. His eyes were absolute crimson, chills ran up and down my skin. I couldn’t stop myself, my feet began to tremble and fall backward as the kitchen started to spin.
Deep breath, deep breath, deep breath.
“It’s a surprise”, the ends up his lips began to pull harshly upward, revealing gummy, plague-etched teeth. My eyes remained glued to him as the environment surrounding his being began to grow hazier, the pans hanging from the walls appeared to melt and drip down to the floor. I rubbed my eyes again.
“Will you go get the waitress?”, he asked, the usual gentle tone I had grown accustomed to seemingly returned. The atmosphere lightened once more as my muscles pushed me through the kitchen and out into the dining room.
Empty. The whole place was empty.
I scanned the dining room, left to right. The air felt so thick, so joyous and full despite my desolate surroundings. The waitress stood at the register, eyes darting wildly to and fro as she whispered quietly to herself. Not out of the ordinary for Renee but I decided to check on her anyways.
Her gaze stayed fixed upon the register as I drew closer. Renees wrung her hands wildly, flexing her fingers in odd, inhuman directions as her eyes seemed to bulge and dart at an otherworldly speed.
“Hey, hey are you-“, I set my hand on her shoulder and that’s when she began to scream. Mournful, echoing screeches that threatened to shatter my ear drums. I recoiled and fell backward. My body stiffened as it fell against a warm, meaty surface.
Two massive hands suddenly collapsed upon my chest, the bloody stumps where fingers had once been clawed at me with terrifying fervor. I dropped down to my ass and pushed myself up against the wall behind the counter.
I cradled myself and began rocking.
“See, see what I mean!?”, my boss boomed, lowering his face to mine and bringing his mangled hands up just below my chin. Streaks of blue danced and squirmed in my vision as that familiar haze took hold once more.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to hum, to hum and drown out those wretched noises.
“Open your eyes, open your fucking eyes!”, he wailed, poking me sharply with the bony knobs of what was once fingers. Finally, I gave in. I screamed, crying out for help, for my parents or anyone who would listen.
“Hey man, are you good?”, a sudden coolness fell over me, the claustrophobic heat and terror only a fleeting thing now. My eyelids pulled themselves slowly upwards, revealing the dim glow of the sinking sun.
I found myself standing, or rather propped up against a bench on the sidewalk next to my workplace. Only now it appeared to be empty, years displaced from any sort of human activity. The white paint which adorned the squatty building was flecked with ashen streaks of black. I turned to the stranger holding my arm, hastily pulling it away from him.
“What the fuck happened here?”, I said, pointing at the sad building that once was. He turned and studied the building for a moment, his brow furrowed as a solemn weight seemed to pull at his eyes. He cleared his throat.
“Gas leak, man, place burnt up last year... two people died in that fire”, he grabbed my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, “don’t you remember?”.
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