It was nights like this that really made you grateful that Melsbrow's 'night life' didn't extend this far out of town. The station was just far enough out of town to not be frequented very much by the residents but still close enough to make the trip into work worth the gas. For the most part the job was a cake walk, evidence by you having your feet kicked up on the checkout desk as you listened to the faint tunes emanating from a radio that was probably older than you were.

Looking up over the counter, you took a look at the scene that had become an everyday constant in your life (at least since school let up). The night was dark despite how bright the large moon appeared to be, just peaking over the pines that littered the other side of the road. Between the woods and your store was the one highway out of town and the tow rows of pumps. Closer more was the store front illuminated weakly by a couple of old halogen lightbulbs, giving the store's contents a homely (or sickly, depending on who you ask) disposition.

Of course just sitting here would bore to crap out of anyone. If you hadn't brought something to do during the hours in between customers you'd probably have trashed the place just to fight off the boredom. To keep yourself occupied, you've been...

- Studying.
- Reading Motortrend magazine.
- Reading Fashion magazine while on the phone with your friend.
- Staring at your PC, reading the 'Real_Occult_Experiences' chatroom.
- Tossing a football above your head.

>Reading Motortrend magazine.

(Round 2 baby lets fucking GOOOOOOO)

>Reading Motortrend magazine.

@Drusm157 tagging you here in case you want to take part; i know you love your horror stuff

This dark wooded highway has blown plenty of cool wind through your hair as you've flown by this gas station more than a couple of times trying to get a personal best from your speedometer. It's a god given miracle that you haven't lost your license yet in all honesty but that anticipation for acceleration is all too tantalizing for you, especially at the end of a long shift at the station. Getting up from your seat, you place your magazine on the counter and saunter over to the front of station. Peering through the window you can't help but smile at your current pride and joy...



She wasn't no GNX, at least not from birth, but she was getting there. You didn't have very many career like many of your peers; your only real aspiration was the natural kind hidden under the hood of your 1980 Buick Grand National. Just from the look of the ancient machine most would think anything on the road would smoke you but that wasn't (always) the case. Many of the amenities had been stripped from the geezer and the carbureted V6 had been tuned, ported and blown (thanks to your makeshift hood scoop) to perfection. You still lusted after the big-block V8s plastered in Motortrend but this cobbled together racecar held a special place in your heart and you dreaded the day you would need to part with it.

Your daydreaming came to an end as you saw another car pulling in and up to the pumps. With a tired sigh, you turned around and made your way back to the desk and picked up your magazine once more, deciding to wait for the driver to come in and pay once their pumping concluded. Your focus was almost completely drawn back into the paperback pages of speed mastery when you noticed the car had disappeared.

Puzzled for a moment, you crane your neck out over the desk as you tried to get a peak further down the road or perhaps a glimpse of the car parked nearby. When this proved fruitless you waited for a moment before going back to magazine for good this time. It was likely they just needed to stop for a moment to check their map. Most people coming out of town were either residents who didn't know the first thing about navigating outside of their quaint town or unwitting visitors, wondering how they managed to get so turned around and landing themselves in Melsb-

Your train of thought is suddenly derailed as your attention is once more brought back to the window though this time it isn't a car that you see. Standing mere millimetres from the pane of glass adorned by the door is a short man sporting cargo shorts, a white tank-top, Aviators and a scruffy unkempt beard. You nearly jumped out of your skin after noticing them but quickly calmed down, figuring it was your lost driver from before. They must have just parked around the side of the shop.

You stat for a moment waiting for them to enter but they didn't seem to be interested in that. You gave a puzzled look before noticing the latch on the front door was locked. You were pretty sure you hadn't started lock up already but it was getting close to the end of your shift. Maybe you had just forgotten? Regardless, best course of action right now would be to go let the potential customer in.

However, once you got up from your seated position something in your gut began to stir. Not in a 'I'm going to shit myself' way but in a primordial untrust of what you saw before you. It was likely just you being tired and making a mountain out of a mole hill but you've been in plenty of situations where trusting your gut has saved your skin (and your car). Now locking eyes (you think) with the man you...

- Trust your gut and lock yourself in the back for now.
- Think about this realistically and go let the man in.

Instincts came about to protect you from mammoths and Joey Maximilian didn't see any mammoths outside his store tonight, just an odd looking guy probably looking for some smokes. Popping around the counter, you walk down the aisle towards the door and the still mostly still man. You expected some reaction from him when you began your approach but there was to drop in his stoicism. Despite this you flip the lock and open up the door once you reach it. The man still doesn't react, at least at first, but like life was just given back to his body he jolts awake and gives a friendly smile.

"Sorry to bother you so late kid, been a long day." the man spoke as he walked past you to enter the store. He made a focused move towards the small rack of hot dogs being warmed on a roller. They'd been there since this morning and it was just about time to toss them but the man seemed to have his heart set on one... or a few as you saw him self serving up a couple dogs into a single bun, barely fitting them all.

You're about to walk back to your post and wait for the man to finish when you hear a scream outside. That gut feeling you'd written off still had your nerves wound up so the scream immediately had your heart racing. Before you could make a move to check it out the man, who didn't seem to react much, spoke.

"Damn foxes. Make you think someone's screaming bloody murder."

You've heard that Melsborow is home to a fair few foxes though you've never seen one around, let along heard one. Do they really sound like that? The scream was so quick it was hard to even recall what it sounded like, even moments after it happened. After a brief moment of deliberation you decide to...

- Check out the noise.
- Return to your post.

You don't get paid nearly enough to investigate a murder but you do get paid enough that you'd feel guilty wasting time Fox watching on the clock. Writing off the noise, you try to calm your nerves as you once more return behind the counter. Punching in the info for the hot dog, you ring up the total for the man as he douses his chimera of meat in ketchup.

"So how much longer are they keeping ya here? Seems pretty dangerous being all alone this far from town, especially at night." the man said somewhat ominously as he put his multi-facaded hot dog on the counter and produced his wallet from his back pocket to get you your cash.

You explain you won't be there much longer and make a white lie about your replacement coming soon. Really the next person in wouldn't be for a couple hours but this guy was still giving you some off putting vibes. The man seems to accept this response with a nod before biting into his meal as you count up his change.

"You know." the man starts with a mouth-full of food "you're a pretty bad lia-"



The man spins around, spraying hunks of hot dog around the room as his and your own gaze lock onto the source of the startling noise. One of the windows was completely shattered and whatever had broken through seemed to be scrambling to get to its feet. Wether it was a deer, a bear, (hell even a fox) didn't matter at this moment. What mattered was there was something potentially dangerous in the shop and it was likely getting ready to cause more than a little chaos. Without thinking much you rush for the back room, the only place that might keep whatever animal that still unrecognizable, slightly obscured mass, at bay.

You were about to slam the door and lock it when your eyes lock on the man. He was still stood there like a deer in the headlights. Your only indication that he was still among the living was his ever tighter clenching fist destroying what was left of his paradise of processed meat. You didn't have much time to decide but thinking about it too long might be the end of you. In yet another split second decision, you snap into action...

- And slam the door shut!
- And dash from the room, grabbing the man and yanking!
- And call him over!

>slam the door shut

Spooky guy is spooky and I don't like me no fox deer bears

>And dash into the room, grabbing the man and yanking.

we need someone to watch our back. no matter how gluttonous he is.

Courage and stupidity go hand in hand so this customer had better feel grateful for your less than stellar decision making skills. You use the door handle as an anchor as you yank yourself forward, towards the man and the beast within your small slice of paradise. Your other hand flails out to grab anything that you can of the man's which turns out to be scruff of his shirt. You yank with all your might and surprise yourself with just how far you got the man over the counter before the hunk of cloth in your hand breaks away from the man. The customer had gotten the hint though and was now scrambling back in your direction but not before tossing the remains of his double-decker hot dog at the mass as it stood up... wait it was standing up?

Now that nothing obscured your view of the uninvited guest, you could see it was a tall balding man wearing tattered clothes that looked a little to small for his impressive size but what made you more nervous was the blood that coated his face and the intense look to his eyes that honed in on the clambering form of the customer. The two of you and your loyal customer had both fallen to the floor, when that had happened you aren't sure, having been lost in the gaze of the now recovered beast of a man. You scooch backwards into the 'safety' of the backroom and jump to your feet, ready to close the door on the heels of your customer. This doesn't go as smoothly as your adrenaline infused mind had hoped as the beast crosses the small shop's floor in mere moments, lunging for the entrance. Seeing no choice, you close the door early and bash it into the customer in the hopes of knocking him inside and blocking the attack of the beast.

This works for the most part though the flailing limb in an unintentional duplication of your own move, grabs the customer and yanks before tearing away. You manage to get the door shut, locked, latched and barred as you push a wooden manager's desk against it. The once quite evening is now filled with the crescendo of bashes against the door which is turning out to be much less solid than you once believed, seeing the wood splinter a bit more with every attack. It's at this moment you notice that rather that a chunk of the customer's shirt being ripped away by the beast outside, it was a hunk of the man's flesh. It didn't seem to be life threatening, just a couple of gashes above the shoulder blades but there was a lot of blood gushing out.

You weren't in as dire of straits but time was still of the essence. Your eyes darted around the room but your focus mostly fell on three things;

-The customer.
-The unsellables.
-The back door.

The customer