Work Text:
The sounds were deafening yet silent, feet squeaking on the tiled floors, children asking their parents for candy, teenagers laughing with friends in the isles, people dropping bags of crisps, and other fuzzy noises the worker was too tired to make senses of. A slim man with sallow cheeks, baggy eyes and a frame that would make a pencil look like a tree trunk. His skin was rough and had a grey hue, eyes blue and hair a dark, near-black grey. He was dressed in a green suit shirt with a white collar, black jeans and shoes, a red tie, small red cap with a white pattern on the side, and a name tag on his left pec, with ‘Larry’ written on it. The blaring lights of the petrol station building burned his eyes, he felt like his brain couldn’t function. Like he was running on zero battery. He leaned forward on the desk and slowly closed his eyes. Slowly dozing off. But something jolted him awake.
“Excuse me?” He saw a fit woman with beige skin and short, black hair and eyes, dressed in a white dress shirt, a magenta, purple and blue striped badge on her left breast-pocket, black dress shoes and a grey skirt. “Hi, I was just wondering about your sale?” Larry sighed, and pulled a fake smile. “Yes, ma’am. What would you like to know?” She asked him about the sale, 50% off any item purchased under €19.99 with every 10 gallons. He simply explained to her, and she thanked him before pulling a candy bar from the row of sweets at the front of the counter. €3.24, reduced to €1.62, the woman seemed giddy and paid before leaving. Larry blinked slowly and slumped forward, dozing off to sleep before he heard his manager’s voice.
“Wanless!” He leapt forward, looking around before spotting his manager. A short man, barely five feet tall, with a ring of hair around his bald top of his head. His complexion was light and his eyes were wide and blue, looking to be in his fifties. He was dressed in a navy suit and white shirt and red tie. “Did I catch you dozing off!?” Larry’s voice became worried and nervous, as he responded; “No Mr Bear! I’m not!” Mr Bear walked up to Larry, looking up at the nearly six foot man. “I swear! I need you to keep handling the shifts for the week before Karen is back from leave! Got it!?” Larry nodded to Mr Bear’s statement, as Mr Bear looked at the empty paper coffee cups in the trash bin under the counter. “If you don’t cut back on the coffee you won’t be getting used to this, Wanless!” Larry nodded, trying to hide his tiredness. Mr Bear sighed, heading to the employee’s only door behind the desk; “I need to head home, my daughter threw up again.” He glared at Larry, and tossed a crowded keychain at him. “You’re locking up tonight. 10:30, not a moment before and not a moment after!” He walked through the door and shut it tight behind him.
Time felt like it dragged, and soon 10:30 arrived. Larry headed to the front door of the store, and locked it before heading to the long wall of the station. Rows of milk cartons, yogurts, protein shakes, water, soft drinks and other cold drinks and foods, resting within the shelved fridge spread along the wall. He reached up and grabbed a metal shutter, before pulling it down and locking it shut. He repeated this a few times, the foot wide shutters ringing out echoes through the station. As he closed up, he heard something banging. He looked along the shutters, and heard the metal banging again. He had one left to shut, and leaned his head in, pulling out the crowded keychains and finding a small flashlight. He nervously aimed it down the pitch black fridge and turned it on. And down it, he saw a horrible sight. A thin and lanky monster, with sickly pale skin wrapped around its muscles. Its head was a pointed oval and with a wide mouth, filled with hundreds of tiny, human-like teeth in its ratty head. Its eyes were all black, and placed right at the tip of its snout, its fingers long, pointed and black. It let out a disgusting shriek, as it began crawling against the wall towards Larry. He leapt back, shutting the door and quickly locking it before running to the employee only door to escape. He pushed down on the handle bar and fought with all his might, feeling like he couldn’t move properly, like his feet weren’t touching the floor. He got the door open and tried to move through it, only to be pushed to the ground by the monster. How did it get there!? He tried to scream a hoarse shriek, as the monster pulled it claws back and slashed him.
“Hey!” He jolted awake from the nightmare, looking around and panting. “Hey! You alright?” He looked forward and saw a short, pale teen boy with short, black greasy hair, black rings around his eyes and a stitched scar under his eye. He was dressed in a grey hoodie and black, ripped jeans and red sneakers. “Yes,” he composed himself, looking at the teen. “What can I do for you?” The kid looked around, and back to Larry; “Yeah, so, I was wondering about maybe getting a job here? I saw the poster in the window.” Larry nodded, and asked him a few questions: When was he available for an interview? What was his contact information? His name? Age? Address? The kid answered each, he was available for an interview tomorrow at 4pm, his number was (+353) 895-559-837 and his email was [email protected]. Two other teens came over, and Larry scanned their items. One teen was a big, bulky young man with a pale complexion, a buzz cut and dressed in a white shirt. The other was a pasty skinned, grey hue over a darker complexioned young man with tattoos and big, black puffy coat. Larry didn’t see their faces though, or at least he didn’t think about them, just scanning the bars and bags of crisps they were buying as he focused on the other kid. The first teen said his name was Micheal Hunt, he was sixteen and he lived in Bastardstown, Wexford. Quite a while away, but he’s willing to make the journey Larry didn’t mind. He had written everything down on a small notepad and looked back at the teen, telling him they’d be in touch. When he noticed something. The other two teens had bought four bars and two bags between them, but they were leaving with more than they bought. “Hey!” Larry screamed, running out from behind the counter. Michael threw something at Larry. It wasn’t big or that dangerous, it was probably just a protein bar, but Michael had enough time to run, laughing. He was duped. At least he had the kid’s number, name, email and address! Except he might’ve given a fake number and email. That address was real, but saying you were from Bastardstown was a perfectly hilarious lie for somebody that immature would think of. And that name? Michael Hunt? Michael? Mike? Really immature. He sighed and checked his watch, only half an hour left before closing. He tiredly walked through the employee only door and into the dimly lit, grey, room with nothing but a whiteboard, timetables sprawled across it in marker, a metal table and chair, with an old computer and a black telephone.
He dialled 999 on the old phone, and sat on the metal chair. He was about to explain the situation about the three teenagers who stole from the station before the dim light went out and the phone line dropped. The power went out. He looked around, nervous, as he heard skittering and chattering. He stumbled around and felt for the keys in his pocket. His boss was a rude and controlling man, but he made sure that whoever had the keys to the station was armed in case they got into trouble. That’s when he found them, the keys and Swiss army knife keychain attached to them. It wasn’t big, or durable, but it was enough. Enough to at least make any would-be attackers think twice about charging. He hoped that at least, but as he thought about if he would be able to fend off some psychopath charging him from the dark, his fears were brought to life as he was pushed to the ground by an emaciated-looking, still massively strong man with pasty skin, clouded eyes and gnarled, yellow teeth. He tried to slash the attacker’s arms, stab the man or at least make him back off, but he didn’t. Everything he was fearing was happening. As the man prepared to kill him, raising up a broken bottle of booze, Larry thought to himself…why was everything he was thinking of happening? It was like a bad dream? He felt cold, hard glass in his head, as he felt like his soul left his body.
Smash! He jolted awake, hitting his head off the table. He checked his watch, seeing it had only been ten minutes. What was he doing? He was just trying to work. But all of this? He was almost certainly going to have his overtime pay suspended. He ducked beneath the table and saw the phone wasn’t even working, the cable practically sawed in half by the friction of the metal table’s edge. He buried his face in his palms and got up, heading back to the desk for the last fifteen minutes of his shift. Nobody was there. He just closed his eyes and waited for his shift to be over, as he felt nothing but the dread of his life.
He slowly opened his eyes and all he saw was fire. Blazing, raging fire in sandy wasteland. He wanted to feel scared but he couldn’t. He was done with these nightmares. Done with it all. Life itself, even. He stared off, looking at the fire. Too tired to change his dream. Even when he saw a frail old man walking towards him. Grey skinned with few hair atop his head, what little amount he had was as white as snow. The man was dressed in the same outfit as Larry, his walking strained and weak. “Larry…” He blinked, seeing the old man. “We’re wasting our life!” He wanted to react but he knew it was true. He got out from behind the desk and headed to the old man, to the old him. “I promise, I’ll do something.” He said, staring at the elderly man. The elderly man closed his eyes and crumbled to dust, falling to a puddle of ash.
He opened his eyes again, feeling a strange sense of motivation. He looked at his watch and saw he only had five more minutes. He was going to go back to school! He would make something of himself! And lucky him, a cop came into the station! A hefty, fair skinned man with short, blonde hair and narrow eyes, dressed in a typical Gardi uniform. “Officer!” Larry called out, as the Garda came up. “Yes, sir?” He explained what happened, the teens that stole from the station. The Garda nodded; “Alright, thanks. I’ll get the testimony down to the station and we’ll be in touch for more information. Can I get your phone number?” Larry nodded and provided his number, as the Garda jotted down the number. “While I’m here, can you get me something?” Larry nodded, he would get whatever the Garda wanted. The cop then looked around, seeing the slushie machine, freshly made hotdogs, donuts and other goodies. “I’ll have a soft serve with a hotdog in it, a large slushie with all four flavours, five hotdogs with ketchup, mustard and garlic on it, curly fries and a cup of decaf mocha.” Larry blinked. That was a lot but…ok. He turned to the soft serve machine, grabbed a cone and started to add the ice cream to it. As he thought…why would the cop want this? All this food. It was…no… “This is another one…” The cop asked; “Pardon?” He turned to the cop, growing red with anger. “This is another stupid dream, isn’t it!?” The officer blinked, confused. “One where I’m tortured by a stupid customer with a ridiculous demand for the last five minutes of my shift!” He crushed the cone in his hand and gritted his teeth. “Umm, sir? Are you ok?” He threw the ice cream at the officer as he stumbled back. “How do you like that!?” He left the desk and stole the walkie talkie from the officer’s belt. The officer stumbled back and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. He started shocking random things in the store, grabbing stuff off the shelves and chucking them across the store. Dog food, bleach, sponges, cat toys, and other such items. He rampaged through for a moment, before the officer tackled him against the frozen goods. Milk cartons and yogurts, “You are under arrest!” He felt cold. So cold. Not the fridge, from the fact he felt. He felt pain. He felt the cold. This was it. He was awake. As he felt the officer clamp the handcuffs on him, he felt only the crumbling of his wasted dreams.