Run

Patrick stares into his coffee cup, watching the black liquid sit in utter stillness. His eyes are red and sagging with black bags as he raises his gaze to see the waitress standing before him. Her mouth seems to be moving but for a moment he can't hear her past a sharp ringing that fills his ears. Almost in an instant, the ringing stops as she says “So, whatcha thank?” Her southern twang is a refreshing reminder of his distance from home, well, whatever you’d call the place he left behind but it doesn’t change the fact that Patrick has no clue what she just said.

“I..” he begins to mutter, “sure, that sounds good.” His voice was gravelly and filled with exhaustion but he decided that she might think him rude if he were to say that he wasn’t listening and she would think him crazy if he told her the truth. Less concerned with what he agreed with, he instead turns his attention back to the cup before him that rests on the smooth white table. Patrick lets out a soft and dry chuckle as the black and white tiled floor and red booth fill his peripheral vision. “All across America and they all look the same. No matter how far away I get, it feels like I’m still sitting at the same shitty diner at the end of the block” he whispers to himself so as not to offend the two other patrons or the sweet older waitress that he had just spoken to.

He seems to have been quiet enough as everyone continues about without so much as a glance in his direction. He reaches for his coffee, hands trembling slightly as he raises it to his lips. It’s bitter, but strong, which is exactly what he was hoping for. He sits only for a couple of minutes before the waitress comes back holding what appears to be a slice of thick chocolate cake. ‘Huh, I suppose that’s what I agreed to then. Well, alright’ he thinks to himself as the plate clatters on the tabletop. He gives her a nod of appreciation as she returns to the kitchen, seemingly happy with her successful upsell.

Patrick releases a long-held sigh. It’s been days since he slept peacefully, each night plagued with the same nightmare but something felt different when he stopped to sleep at the nearby motel, it was...calm. Certainly not enough to cease his exhaustion but perhaps it would prolong his survival and keep him from death via lack of sleep. Of course, it meant one thing that was most important, he was getting far enough away from the thing that haunts him.

Again he finds himself mesmerized by the black coffee that sits in his cup but this time the liquid begins to take shape in his eyes. A face that seems to meet his glare but is largely featureless forms and he gasps but gradually drifts closer to the ceramic cup. He continues to come closer and closer until the black begins to turn to white and the sound of classic rock in the background is replaced with the ringing once more. Then… a whisper right next to his ear, so close he can feel the breath. “Run,” it says in a soft yet sinister voice.

This time Patrick’s gasp isn’t so quiet as he pushes back into the immovable booth causing his back to arch and legs to shift the table in a loud shake. All eyes shoot towards him but only the waitress speaks, “Hon...are you alright? Can we maybe caw someone for ya?” She asks with a look of evident worry painted across her face.

“Um, no, it’s alright. Sorry, just... almost fell asleep is all. But actually, if you could please bring me a water, another coffee, and the check, please. Thank you very much.” His reply and words were sincere but the woman’s face shifted from worry to doubt at his proclamation of wellbeing. Nonetheless, she did as requested and Patrick went back to observing the contents of his table, focusing more this time on the chocolate cake.

“You should try it! Best in the state” The waitress exclaims as she brings him his check and sees him observing the cake.

“Ya know what? I think I will,” he replies in conjunction with grabbing his fork. As he cuts a piece and begins chewing the moist and very sweet cake, the ringing returns again. In this instant, he feels a sharp pain but can’t locate it as he clenches his eyes shut. The ringing gets louder and louder before he begins to hear it mix with a buzzing. In confusion, he opens his eyes to see the chocolate cake covered in little white squirming maggots and black flies buzzing.

Quickly Patrick begins spitting out the bits left in his mouth as he feels a squirming on his tongue. As he suspected, more maggots wiggling in the chunks. His eyes dart over to look at the waitress but he finds her not there. In her place is a tall and slender black figure whose very form seems to shimmer like water rippling or static on a television. Patrick tries to move but finds himself unable as the sharp pain from before pierces his leg, right through the shin.

His breaths begin to shallow and panic overwhelms him as the figure’s hand begins to reach out. Suddenly, within the pitched ringing he hears not one but two voices. As if to the right of him, whispering into his ear he hears again the same sinister voice saying “Run.”

In the other ear, he hears a woman shouting “Stop right there! Don’t move” in a loud and confident tone. She is not afraid. He tries to scream but it is inaudible and his whole body begins to convulse before he hears a third voice, much calmer than the other two.

“Patrick, what do you see,” it asks in a very clear and smooth demeanor. A moment of peace fills him and all other sounds cease as the world seems to freeze around him.

“I’m… I’m in a diner… there’s some sort of...monster,” the very word comes out trembling and dripping in fear, “I’m stuck... I can’t...I can’t hear anything… the ringing is so loud… It told me to run but someone else is here...someone else that I can’t see…”

“You are not in a diner Patrick, look beyond it, look beyond your mind into the truth. You must face it Patrick!”

At this declaration, he closes his eyes. Upon reopening them he sees the figure once more, only this time they are no longer in the diner but are in the woods, the night dark with only the moon giving any light. His leg still stinging with pain, he looks down to see a bear trap piercing his skin, the wound filled with pus and maggots. In a groan of disgust, he turns away to see the source of the voice behind him. It was the waitress but instead of her apron she adorned the outfit of a police officer, gun in hand as she aimed down the sights towards the figure.

The third voice speaks to him again, “Good, good. Go further back Patrick, how did you get to the woods?”

As the question is asked, his vision goes black and he hears the whisper once more say “Run” as a hood is removed from his eyes to reveal the dark woods before him. Without hesitation, he begins to barrel away in a full sprint only stealing a glance of the black shimmering figure.

“I was...in a cabin... the monster told me to run.” Patrick’s voice is filled with pain and fear with every word. “I ran so far...for so long until...until I was caught in the trap...I was stuck there for days until the monster found me again…” he closes his eyes and opens them to a different scene.

Now he lays on a couch as an older man leans forward wielding nothing more than a pen and pad of paper. The man opens his mouth to reveal himself the calming voice “There are no such things as monsters Patrick, only mankind and we are much worse and much more real than any monster.”