Flash Fiction Friday - The Diner

Coffee and pie and hope not to die

Jonas steered his truck through a seemingly endless series of switchbacks, now totally convinced that the GPS was leading him astray. The higher he climbed, the thicker the fog became, and with sheer drops off to his left, every turn became an invisible hazard to navigate.

Relief swept through his body as a neon sign - DINER - broke through the thickening fog. He pulled into the lot and took a moment to catch his breath before stepping out of the vehicle and into the cozy confines of the diner.

The eatery was a throwback to the 1950s, with chrome and neon everywhere, as well as tabletop jukeboxes in every booth. Jonas slid into the nearest one, the red leather seating feeling like a warm hug. It was only when he got settled that he noticed the other diners looking at him, a quizzical expression on their faces. Given that he was well off the beaten path, their surprise at seeing a stranger was likely warranted, but it still gave Jonas the creeps.

“What can I get you, hon?”

With a shake of his head, Jonas turned his attention to the server, who was dressed in a cotton candy colored uniform, her red hair tied up in a bun. Jonas flicked his eyes to her nametag and gave her a smile. “Coffee would be great, Marla.”

She returned the smile. “I’ll throw in a slice of pie on the house. You look famished. We need to fatten you up a little before you move on.”

The comment seemed innocent enough, but something about the tone of her voice felt off. Still, he kept the smile on his face and thanked her for her kindness. He would chug the coffee, slam the pie, and get back on the road ASAP, fog be damned.

The thought of leaving quickly slipped away when the coffee and pie arrived. The brew was hot, fresh, and delicious, while the apple pie, which came with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, was almost as good as what his mother used to make. Lost in thought and happy memories, Jonas turned to look out the window, which was when he saw the two holes in the side of the mountain, smoke billowing out in a regular rhythm, like the mountain was breathing.

“It’s something, isn’t it?”

Jonas jumped at Marla’s voice, his fork falling to the floor, impossibly loud in the now dead silent diner. “Is there some kind of mill or factory here?” he asked, hoping for a normal answer.

Marla smiled again, but her dead eyes made it look more like a grimace. “No, no, nothing like that. Industry would taint this place, plus the master would not allow it.”

“All hail the master,” the diners chanted.

Marla stooped down to be at eye level with Jonas. “You were called here by him.”

“I…I just took a wrong turn.”

The diners were chanting again, but this time it was in a language that was foreign, ancient, and dark.

“There is no wrong turn to this place, Jonas. You were summoned.”

Out the corner of his eye, Jonas caught movement outside the window. The vents, which he now realized were nostrils, were moving upward. Something huge, something tentacled, was rising.

“The master has chosen.”

“All hail the master.”

“How do you know…Please let me leave,” Jonas sobbed.

Marla pulled the clips from her hair and let the red locks fall, shaking them out as she spread her arms wide. “There is no leaving. Not for you. This is your beginning, your entry into the eternal void.”

Looking out the window once more, Jonas saw himself reflected in the pupil of a massive eye. He screamed once before falling into madness.