24/7 Crossroads Store

By A. R. Tivadar

“24/7 Crossroads Store”
by A. R. Tivadar

Sarah adjusted the cap on her head. The sky was purple, slowly turning darker. The surrounding woodland made it seem like the store was located in a black void. The sterile white lights shining out the windows were the only sources of illumination.

She fixed her uniform, a plain t-shirt and uncomfortable trousers, and waited with an already bored expression for clients. The same six tunes were endlessly looping in the background through old speakers. The store was all white, with white tiles and white shelves. The cash registry stood out, black on a white countertop. Behind Sarah were the liquors, cigarette, vape cartridges and a table of currencies the store accepted: dollars, pounds, pesos, euros, gold, silver, blood, teeth, bones, laughter, dandelions, dreams and songs. The songs should be no longer than 4 minutes, as to not inconvenience other people waiting in line.

Sarah could see a car pulling up in the small parking lot. A man in a camping jacket came in, the sliding door opening with a crisp “ding”.

“Hello, welcome, good evening, how may I help you?” Sarah said for the umpteenth time, not even trying to add charisma to her voice.

“Do you… do you have guns?” He asked, uneasily looking into the darkness he came from.

“In the back, next to the refrigerators.”

“Thank you, Miss…”

“Regular bullets don’t work. Try silver or drench them in holy water first.”

“T-Thank you…”

She looked out the window out of curiosity, but couldn’t see anything.

“Would that be all?” She asked as she rang the rifle and ammunition.

“Yes…” He said, visibly anxious about going back outside.

“Would you like spearmint gum for 1,99?”

The man stared incredulously up at Sarah, as if that was in any way the appropriate time to buy gum.

Sarah shrugged and put it back. “Have a good night, Sir. Good luck.”

He nodded, eyes downcast and brows furrowed, and left. Sarah looked at the clock. It was only 11:10 pm. She sighed deeply, time moving painfully slowly every night shift.
At 1 am, another client arrived. It was a very panicked teenager wearing house clothes. The sleeves of his hoodie were singed.

“D-Do you have salt?” He asked, slapping his hands on the counter between them to halt his running.

“Second aisle, next to the jars and candles.” Sarah replied, her cheek resting against her palm.

The kid ran to grab supplies. He smelled of ash and incense and rot. Sarah wished people would stop using ouija boards without knowing what they were doing.

“Did you call a priest?” Sarah asked while she rang the items, despite not really caring.

“I don’t want to get in trouble.” He said.

“You already are in trouble.”

The kid cringed, shutting his eyes tight, and dashed out the door.

Around 3:30 am, four very drunk women walked into the store. Sarah could hear their laughter and high heels clacking on the road from a distance. A black cat followed behind them. It hopped up on the counter next to Sarah.

“What should we get?” One of the witches asked, pointing at the liquor shelves. Her hand was stained with chicken blood and cheap box wine.

“Get that chocolate liquor thing!” Another one said, precariously balancing against a third.

“I’m hungry…” The fourth one grumbled and wandered between the aisles. A few seconds later they could hear the sound of several things falling to the ground, including the witch. The black cat looked embarrassed and apologetical towards Sarah.

“Having a sabbath?” Sarah asked as she rang their bottles and bags of chips.

“You know iiit!” The witches squealed and giggled. They left as merrily as they entered, the cat chasing after them. Sarah went to fix the mess and shove everything back in place. Thankfully, nothing broke.

At 4:55 am, Sarah saw a figure shambling towards the store. It was the man from earlier, but his jacket was dirty and dishevelled. As he walked into the light, she could see his skin was no longer fitting properly. He was a size too big for the new wearer, the mouth stretched diagonally over its teeth.

“Stop right there!” Sarah said and pointed at the creature.

It stopped and stumbled on its twisted feet.

“What do you want?”

It pointed vaguely at the products at display by the windows.

“This one?” She pointed as well. “No? This one? Which one then? Nod or something.

This? Water? You want water? Is this one okay?”

It nodded.

Sarah grabbed a water bottle and gave it to the monster, stretching her arm through the door. It took it, then reached into its mouth and plucked out a handful of teeth, as if it was picking grapes. Sarah accepted them and watched it disappear into the darkness. She took the teeth to the cash register, counted them, calculated in her head while staring up at the ceiling, and put them in a little jar by the dollar bills.

At 6 am, Sarah walked outside, stretching her arms. The sky was slowly turning blue and birds were singing, announcing a new day.

She watched as a demon with pointy horns and cloven hooves walked up to her with a cordial smile.

“How was your shift tonight?” Susannah asked.

“Same as usual.” Sarah took her cap off, revealing horns of her own.

A. R. Tivadar is a hobby writer from Romania and a graduate of the University of Oradea. 

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