Three o'clock

October 6, 2017
By , Sacramento, CA

I hate the countryside. My sister loves it. So it’s only natural that she’d want to move out of the city and into the country life. A few months had passed, and she’s all moved out of my apartment, she even has a man now.I can’t believe how much she’s grown up in a year. A week has gone by and she calls me up, asking me to come visit her. Being her only family, of course I chose to go. But now, it’s 12:30 at night and I’m barely able to get through this damn rain.


Did I already pass Mulberry or was that Poppy? I thought.


“Dammit! If it weren’t for my boss keeping me after hours to lecture me about the stats again, or the heavy traffic, I wouldn’t be so late!” Okay, calm down Helen don’t forget who you’re here to see. You’re just tired is all, it’s been a long day and you need some food in your system.


Just then, peaking between the curtain of downpour, I spot a small 80’s style diner on the side of the road. Well, I’ll be damned. I pulled into the vacant parking lot and rush inside, getting beat by heavy droplets of water. When I finally made it inside, I was soaked to the bone, socks and all. I walked to a nearby booth to relax for a bit. I raise my head and notice another person a few seats down from mine. A man in a dark trench coat looking down, his face hidden. Looking around, I notice we are the only customers here. Trying to make a little small talk I say, “Hello.”  A few minutes pass and he doesn’t answer me, so I try again, “Hello.” I persist. Not even a nod.


Well fine then, I have to go dry off anyway.


I walk to the bathroom, slowly past the man, leaving little puddles of water trailing behind me. Then, all of a sudden, he grabbed my arm. “Three o’clock, three o’clock.” he chanted. And that’s when I saw it. His face was scarred and his forehead was sweating, his eyes frightened. I tug away and run into the bathroom. Slamming the door shut, I get into a stall and wait.


Who is he? What does he want?


After a few minutes I calm down, eyes getting heavy, then all is black. I’m in the diner, except the lights are out. I look for a switch, but suddenly I hear a voice, “ Three o’clock, three o’clock, you will die, at three o’clock.” I turn around and the man in the trench coat is a few feet behind me. “Stay away from me!” I yell. I ran to the door and pulled with all my might. Yet it wouldn’t budge. Again and again, I heave and scream for someone, anyone to help me. But just then, I feel someone grab hold of my shoulder. I turn around and the man in the coat is just inches from my face. His face drenched with blood, his eyes are black pools piercing through my soul, his sickly grin growing each minute. “It’s time.” he says, and I wake up panting, holding my chest. I look around me, trying to grasp reality, reassuring myself that it was just a dream. I then exit the bathroom, hoping for everything to be as it was, the smell of burgers and fries, the jukebox playing old country songs. I just hoped the man in the trench coat is gone. However, everything was not as it should have been. The lights were out, not a single employee in sight. Dead silence.


Then, I hear a familiar voice, “ Three o’clock, three o’clock, you will die, at three o’clock.” I turn around, the man in the trench coat is close behind me. I run towards the door, tug on the handle with all my might, and run outside. I hear a honk, I see the lights of the car, then all went black. The diner was quiet, the lights were off, all was silent, but the ticking of the clock which read, 3:00.






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