I used to think that 1AM was the perfect time to do my grocery shopping, purely for the perfect silence and stillness of the supermarkets. I'd never gone any later than 1AM, every Wednesday for the past five five years but, as they say, sixth time's the charm.
I'd been delayed by a herd of deer who, as usual, were heading from the woods into the open doors of the school auditorium across the road. It must have taken around an hour for them to all pass me as every one just had to look me dead in the eyes before they carried on over the road.
Usually I manage to miss the crossing and catch them passing in my rear view mirror but they came early that night. To be honest that should have been the first sign that everything was just a little bit too off, just wrong enough to make the trip edge from liminally creepy to potentially dangerous.
Still, the promise of that deathly stillness lured me onward.
The car park usually had the same three cars in it, always had for the past five years but tonight there was a fourth. Again, another sign that should have told me things weren't going to be safe but again, it was almost 3AM and I wasn't thinking past my routine.
There were never any greeters at 1AM but there were three milling about the entrance, their uniforms so much more crumpled and stained than their day shift counterparts (and counterpart is certainly the right term here, they get comparatively far less human as the night carries into the morning).
They moved and spoke in perfect unison, asking me if I needed any help, if I was interested in doing a "blood run for charity" but refusing to specify what that charity was. Luckily I had some sense about me and said I'd consider it and get back to them next week.
From there I shopped as normal, catching the greeters smiling faces in the corners of my eyes as I turned aisles, seeing the lights flicker in some as they passed by. Now I can safely say they were prowling but at that time I was more concerned with the other customer.
I can't remember a single detail of their appearance, only that they wore a torn sundress and carried half a straw hat in their hand that left a trail behind them. It helped me avoid them for the most part but somehow they ended up right behind me at the checkout.
There was only a sole cashier, the three greeters muttering to themselves (or was it chanting?) by the exit and the feeling of sheer existential terror that seemed to flow from whoever was behind me. Every part of me screamed to not turn around, no matter how much they tapped on my shoulder or how many times the cashier said "He wants to talk to you."
I ran out of the doors, practically mowing the greeters down with the cart as I fled to my car, still never looking back. From then on I ordered all my groceries online and I thought it was all fine. And it was all fine and it should still be all fine and I avoided the danger.
But last night I found half a straw hat on my doorstep and all my food gone.
Something wants me to make a trip to the supermarket again.
I'd been delayed by a herd of deer who, as usual, were heading from the woods into the open doors of the school auditorium across the road. It must have taken around an hour for them to all pass me as every one just had to look me dead in the eyes before they carried on over the road.
Usually I manage to miss the crossing and catch them passing in my rear view mirror but they came early that night. To be honest that should have been the first sign that everything was just a little bit too off, just wrong enough to make the trip edge from liminally creepy to potentially dangerous.
Still, the promise of that deathly stillness lured me onward.
The car park usually had the same three cars in it, always had for the past five years but tonight there was a fourth. Again, another sign that should have told me things weren't going to be safe but again, it was almost 3AM and I wasn't thinking past my routine.
There were never any greeters at 1AM but there were three milling about the entrance, their uniforms so much more crumpled and stained than their day shift counterparts (and counterpart is certainly the right term here, they get comparatively far less human as the night carries into the morning).
They moved and spoke in perfect unison, asking me if I needed any help, if I was interested in doing a "blood run for charity" but refusing to specify what that charity was. Luckily I had some sense about me and said I'd consider it and get back to them next week.
From there I shopped as normal, catching the greeters smiling faces in the corners of my eyes as I turned aisles, seeing the lights flicker in some as they passed by. Now I can safely say they were prowling but at that time I was more concerned with the other customer.
I can't remember a single detail of their appearance, only that they wore a torn sundress and carried half a straw hat in their hand that left a trail behind them. It helped me avoid them for the most part but somehow they ended up right behind me at the checkout.
There was only a sole cashier, the three greeters muttering to themselves (or was it chanting?) by the exit and the feeling of sheer existential terror that seemed to flow from whoever was behind me. Every part of me screamed to not turn around, no matter how much they tapped on my shoulder or how many times the cashier said "He wants to talk to you."
I ran out of the doors, practically mowing the greeters down with the cart as I fled to my car, still never looking back. From then on I ordered all my groceries online and I thought it was all fine. And it was all fine and it should still be all fine and I avoided the danger.
But last night I found half a straw hat on my doorstep and all my food gone.
Something wants me to make a trip to the supermarket again.
No comments:
Post a Comment