Trapped
The small restaurant appeared out of the late evening fog. The darkness of the past hour had begun to work on her nerves. Melissa Walkens flipped the blinker to turn right. The neon open sign remained lit in the night, calling to her, which translated to Melissa as a bathroom and a coffee.
Maybe directions too. I’ve probably taken a wrong turn to end up out here, wherever here is.
She pulled up close to the building and turned her Cadillac Sedan off. She felt something eerie about the place. The silence was deafening after the prolonged din of the road under her tires. She took a brief look through all the car’s windows, and then opened her door a crack.
Normally she wasn’t paranoid. This had more to do with caution than fear. Better to be on guard then caught by surprise. Yet something bothered her. To put a finger on why she felt out of sorts was difficult, which left her with the thought that she was over analyzing things in a state of weariness.
Or maybe it was fear. Fear of the unknown.
She eased the car door open all the way and stepped from the vehicle. The cool, moist air filled her nostrils. She took a deep breath and stretched her arms high to wake the back muscles that had cramped since she had left her sister’s place. A soft push, and the car’s door shut quietly in the night.
The light from the restaurant only went as far as the edge of the road. The far side of the two-lane tarmac remained obscured in darkness. The thought of being alone out there in that darkness when she should be at home, warm and reading a book with a glass of wine, was enough to unsettle her.
The sound of a fly getting caught in an electric zapper made her jump and turn toward the building. The bathroom called her name and she needed caffeine more than an addict needed a fix.
The door creaked like in a horror movie as she opened it. Her stomach dropped a notch with the sound. The inside of the restaurant was modern and looked gorgeous as far as roadside coffee stops go. Beautiful wooden tables were lined perfectly down the left side by the windows and padded chairs sat unattended by each table. A long silver bar-like counter stretched the length of the restaurant with a row of fifties-era circular stools lined in front of it. An old jukebox sat at the far end, lights flashing on and off, but silent.
“Can I help you?”
Melissa jumped and raised a hand to her chest. “Oh, you scared me,” she said and then took a deep breath to collect herself. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually spook that easily.”
“It’s okay. It’s late and we’re closing in about fifteen minutes but I still have coffee on if you need some.”
The woman looked to be in her fifties. A gray batch of hair tied into a bun and covered in a net, sat atop her head. She had the skin of a smoker and the longest earrings Melissa had ever seen. They dangled down past her shoulders way too far.
“Coffee would be great,” Melissa said. She pointed at the restroom sign and said, “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll set your coffee on the counter over there,” the woman said, pointing halfway down the length of the counter.
Melissa nodded and started past the tables toward the jukebox where the bathroom sign hung. Once inside the restroom, she realized that she hadn’t looked to the right of the main counter. She hadn’t noticed if anyone else was in the coffee shop. Was she alone with the old woman or could there be someone else?
Why am I so nervous? It’s just a roadside restaurant.
She heard a young man shout from behind the wall. He said something about the fryer being turned off and the grease replaced for tomorrow. He went on about the dishes, but she lost the clarity of his voice as he moved away.
Melissa wiped quickly, washed her hands and used a brown paper towel to open the door. While walking back up the length of the tables she looked past the main
The small restaurant appeared out of the late evening fog. The darkness of the past hour had begun to work on her nerves. Melissa Walkens flipped the blinker to turn right. The neon open sign remained lit in the night, calling to her, which translated to Melissa as a bathroom and a coffee.
Maybe directions too. I’ve probably taken a wrong turn to end up out here, wherever here is.
She pulled up close to the building and turned her Cadillac Sedan off. She felt something eerie about the place. The silence was deafening after the prolonged din of the road under her tires. She took a brief look through all the car’s windows, and then opened her door a crack.
Normally she wasn’t paranoid. This had more to do with caution than fear. Better to be on guard then caught by surprise. Yet something bothered her. To put a finger on why she felt out of sorts was difficult, which left her with the thought that she was over analyzing things in a state of weariness.
Or maybe it was fear. Fear of the unknown.
She eased the car door open all the way and stepped from the vehicle. The cool, moist air filled her nostrils. She took a deep breath and stretched her arms high to wake the back muscles that had cramped since she had left her sister’s place. A soft push, and the car’s door shut quietly in the night.
The light from the restaurant only went as far as the edge of the road. The far side of the two-lane tarmac remained obscured in darkness. The thought of being alone out there in that darkness when she should be at home, warm and reading a book with a glass of wine, was enough to unsettle her.
The sound of a fly getting caught in an electric zapper made her jump and turn toward the building. The bathroom called her name and she needed caffeine more than an addict needed a fix.
The door creaked like in a horror movie as she opened it. Her stomach dropped a notch with the sound. The inside of the restaurant was modern and looked gorgeous as far as roadside coffee stops go. Beautiful wooden tables were lined perfectly down the left side by the windows and padded chairs sat unattended by each table. A long silver bar-like counter stretched the length of the restaurant with a row of fifties-era circular stools lined in front of it. An old jukebox sat at the far end, lights flashing on and off, but silent.
“Can I help you?”
Melissa jumped and raised a hand to her chest. “Oh, you scared me,” she said and then took a deep breath to collect herself. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually spook that easily.”
“It’s okay. It’s late and we’re closing in about fifteen minutes but I still have coffee on if you need some.”
The woman looked to be in her fifties. A gray batch of hair tied into a bun and covered in a net, sat atop her head. She had the skin of a smoker and the longest earrings Melissa had ever seen. They dangled down past her shoulders way too far.
“Coffee would be great,” Melissa said. She pointed at the restroom sign and said, “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll set your coffee on the counter over there,” the woman said, pointing halfway down the length of the counter.
Melissa nodded and started past the tables toward the jukebox where the bathroom sign hung. Once inside the restroom, she realized that she hadn’t looked to the right of the main counter. She hadn’t noticed if anyone else was in the coffee shop. Was she alone with the old woman or could there be someone else?
Why am I so nervous? It’s just a roadside restaurant.
She heard a young man shout from behind the wall. He said something about the fryer being turned off and the grease replaced for tomorrow. He went on about the dishes, but she lost the clarity of his voice as he moved away.
Melissa wiped quickly, washed her hands and used a brown paper towel to open the door. While walking back up the length of the tables she looked past the main
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