"Ricky! Are you okay?" Tina slammed her keys down on the counter. "I'm so sorry I'm late. My alarm didn't go off."

"It's fine," Ricky rasped from behind the front register and a pile of empty bottles of sun block. "It was just a few minutes. It's good to see the sunrise actually. Feel like I haven't seen it in fifty years, working night shift I mean," he tacked on quickly. "I'll clean these up. They were all expired."

"Don't worry about it," Tina said, clocking in. Had he really worked here fifty years? He didn't look thirty. "Can you get home okay?"

"Well," Ricky said, pale skin already a little pink. "You know night blindness? I kinda have day blindness. Do you think I'd get in trouble if I just slept in the backroom cooler? I already rotated all the stock for the day, put away the order and cleaned the back so I shouldn't be in your way back there."

"Perfectly fine, Ricky. Sleep well."

He really thought he was hiding it, Tina thought to herself. Poor guy.

He hasn't lied, she realized. He really has managed to do all the extra day tasks for the gas station over the night shift. He worked like three people, maybe four. He'd stopped leaving dead raccoons in the back parking lot too. She wasn't getting rid of him anytime soon.

She looked up from the Clancy novel she picked off the shelf when the door chimed.

"Where's the safe, bitch!" a tall man asked, shaking an old revolver at her.

"It's on a time delay. I can't open it for two more hours!" she yelled, opening the register. There was ten dollars plus some ones. What dumbass robs a gas station right after shift change? She shook as she handed him the drawer.

"Bullshit," he said, throwing the register down. "Sure me the rest or." He waggled the gun in her face.

"Okay! I'll show you." Tina said, raising her hands as she stepped into the dark back. The tall man followed. The cooler sat there humming.

"It's in there," she said, pointing to the cooler before she fully decided to. "That's where we hide it."

She stepped aside to let him pass and scurried back to the front, door closing behind her.

"What the f-" she heard, followed by a rustling, then another sound she really didn't want to think about.

"Thank you," she whispered to the back after the sound stopped. She would have to get him a better setup than a cooler. Halloween was coming up, a coffin back there might be fun.

/r/surinical

“How are the hotdogs, Reginald?”

“The unknown meat of beasts has been dormant for a week. If it’s freshness you seek, I suggest coming tomorrow morning.” Reginald didn’t glance over from the hotdog machine, carefully rotating the meat to make it appear more edible.

“Right, thanks for the head up. You know, it’s funny. It’s like you have been working here for years. Strange how quickly time flies.”

That comment made Reginald turn around, the pale vampire grinning. He loved it when people made comments like that. To him, it was a reminder of how superior he was. He had gone decades without being noticed and his disguise was still holding firm, or so he thought. Like the rest of the town, I enjoyed throwing him a bone now and then. It was nice to see my words add some excitement to his undead heart.

“How amusing. As I’m sure you’re aware, I only graced this establishment with my presence a few months ago. Perhaps you are mistaking me for another handsome being who only works night shifts.”

“Must be. Guess I’m just a bit of a scatterbrain.” I laughed, though the laugh was cut short when I saw him staring at me. Reginald just staring with an intensity that made me nervous. Was this going to be the day he snapped? He had never shown any aggression before, but maybe the sight of all that stuffed meat had triggered something in him. When his lips parted, I winced.

“No, you’re a valued customer. I appreciate the exchange of words we have.”

That was more shocking than an attack. I had never heard him say something that nice before. I wasn’t sure if he was naturally cold or if that was just something that came with the curse of vampirism, but usually, he would only talk himself up. As I stood there stunned, he went back behind the counter, not paying my shocked expression any mind.

I stood there for longer than I care to admit, only getting snapped out of my trance when my gaze fell to the security camera hanging above me. My slack-jawed reflection on the screen was enough to get me moving again. I shuffled through the store, grabbing the jelly dinosaur snacks I had a craving for. Unable to resist the allure of a late-night snack run.

It was strange knowing a living vampire. All my life I had grown up thinking vampires weren’t real, only to encounter one working in a 7/11. Even stranger than that was the fact that everyone was in on this. Collectively, the town had agreed they would look after the vampire, even lying to any vampire hunters that came to town, pivoting them away before they could hunt our beloved Reginald.

Why the town adopted Reginald was a question I still didn’t have a concrete answer on. Some say it was an act of pity after the owner of the store begged the mayor for his safety, while others claim he had been working undetected for a decade without causing trouble, so no one bothered to bring it up. Everyone knew he drank blood, but we also knew he sourced it mainly from animals or, at worst, would visit a blood bank. He never killed, never hunted, he just kept flipping hotdogs. Perhaps we all admired that about him?

Most people would have been corrupted by such power and yet he lives a more normal life than most. It’s like being gifted with the abilities of a god and deciding to spend your time playing Sims rather than actually do anything productive or destructive with it. Maybe that’s why we liked him? In a strange way, he felt human. It was clear he didn’t choose his powers, hell if the stories are to be believed, he was a crying mess when he came to apply for the job. The owner assumed it was nerves, but it was probably out of fear of being detected. I really can’t picture him crying, though. If only he could learn to speak like a human, no one would probably notice the whole vampire thing.

“Why are you staring at those gelatin fossils? Are you ok?” Reginald placed a chilly hand on my forehead, checking my temperature.

“Yeah, sorry. I zoned out for a second there. Jeez, you move quick. I thought you were behind the counter.”

“You were staring for quite a long time.”

I couldn’t tell if he had moved at a superhuman speed or if I had just zoned out for longer than I expected. I gave a sheepish laugh before heading to the counter, glancing over the stupidly expensive specials hanging on display near the cigarette cabinet. I still wondered how a business could sell two chocolate bars and a drink for $8.00, especially when there was a supermarket across the street. What sort of idiot would pay their over-inflated prices? I tried not to think about how I was that idiot as I slid the jelly dinosaurs over to Reginald.

“$6. Would you like to add a drink for an extra $2?”

“Fine, I’ll get a drink too. Cause I’m a sucker.” I muttered that last part under my breath, grabbing a drink from the fridge before paying him the money.

“It’s a better use of your funds. The beverage is usually $5.”

I just nodded like an idiot. Already accepting the store had caught me in its trap. I would accept my defeat with dignity, rather than spit the dummy over a few extra dollars. It was my fault for snacking so late. He slid my drink and jelly dinosaur’s back, giving me a nod.

“Thanks, I’ve been meaning to ask, what do you do with your spare time?”

“What a bizarre question. Are you trying to form some sort of friendship bond with me that goes above customer and server?”

“I guess?”

“I enjoy that groove machine at the arcade. The one where you dance on the arrowed tiles. I also enjoy horror games.”

“Want to play a round some time? The arcades open pretty late, so we can go after one of your shifts. Or you could always come over and play a game at my place. There has to be a good two person horror game.”

“I will acquire one for us. I would enjoy that a lot.”

So, we exchanged numbers. Sharing our details before I headed out the door, the little ding of the door’s bell seeing me out. Just before I stepped out of the store, I heard him call back to me.

“One last thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Invite me in when I come over.”

“No problem. I’ll see you around.”

     

(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)

The door beeped with that familiar ding dong that signaled another customer entering my domain. I recognized the man, Gregory he was called. He had once long ago told me to call him Greg, a sign of cordial behavior that I appreciated, yet declined.

"Hello Gregory. What a nice evening it is, here for Hot Cheeto Puffs or those sour worms you are so fond of?"

He looked up and gave me a half smile, then went back to browsing the aisle. This was unlike Gregory. No, Gregory was warm and full of liquid life. He was not only a welcomed, but an expected part of my nights. I looked over to Darla at the register to my side who failed to return my gaze. She had only been here a year, it took at least three to become so intrinsically linked that we knew the others thoughts.

Me and Jerry had that. I missed Jerry.

"Darla dear. Do you notice something peculiar about Gregory? He has not even glared at the Hot Cheeto Puffs by Frito Lay. "

Darla gave me a look up from her phone that I did not recognize. I deemed myself an expert at reading human emotion, so being unable to do so caught me off guard. Content? Apathy maybe? She replied "Why don't you go check on him then"

A great idea. Maybe Darla was not just a skin linned bag of fluids after all. I flicked back my cape revealing my nametag pinned to a bright green 7-11 shirt. Ishmael, it read, but after working here so long the nametag was only necessary to complete my clever disguise.

I made sure to take plenty of deliberate and clumsy human steps as I approached him, a practice I'd picked up on in my third year working here after a little boy pointed out now quiet my movements were. Gregory looked up upon my approach with wide eyes. The eyes of a man crying out for help no doubt.

He backed up to the drink coolers to which I followed, leaning in close so he knew I cared for him. Proximity in the human world meant kindness, a habit which I was quick to pick up on. He smelled of blue. Of that blue smoke he puffed from that strange little machine he kept on hand.

"Hey Ishmael....can I help you?"

"Shhh Gregory. Tell me what troubles you. I can see it in your eyes, and as a loyal 7-11 employee it is my job to ensure the well being of all my customers."

I could see his tongue wanted to speak, but his brain stopped him. In the argument between voice and mind he instead grew quiet. I looked back to Darla who was staring with a smirk, she gave me a reassuring thumb up.

"You can speak to Ishmael, Gregory. I am here for your troubles." I leaned in closer to prove my loyalty. If he had a stake he could kill me and I'd be none the wiser, but I trusted Gregory.

"It's just... I've been thinking about mortality ya know? I got robbed the other day and, well, what if that was it? What if they had killed me and I'd just died right there on the street."

Ah, mortality. The hardest of human concerns but most prevelant. But that second thing concerned me more. Steal? From Gregory? A loyal customer of the 7-11? Unspeakable.

His eyes seemed to flicker with brilliance and he followed "But! But uhhh well. It has made it hard to come in at night knowing those guys are still out there. Just down that road. That road right there, just hanging out on the corner of Sutton and Third. And the police won't do anything."

"Ah, say no more sweet Gregory." I pulled back away and placed a hand on his shoulder. He felt so warm that it nearly burned me. "Take your Puffed Cheetos and go. It is on me tonight."

Then with a flick of my cape I made my way to the door out. Darla still stared to me with a smirk on her face. In the window I stared backwards to Gregory, who seemed more at ease as he grabbed his snack of choice. I called out to my loyal, yet often apathetic companion, "Darla. Do you mind manning the registers? I am going on break. Oh, and remind me to get a new umbrella. You know how the moonlight hurts my skin."

As I walked out into that dark and warm night I felt at home, displaying my squared nametag with pride. And as I did I knew: I am Ishmael, loyal 7-11 employee of fifty-four years, valued member of my community for even longer, and a vampire who cares dearly for his customers.

"Bertha! Bertha! Beeeeeerrrrrrttttthhhhhhhaaaaaa!!" The little boy's high-pitched voice rang down the aisles, bouncing off the bags of salty snacks, wandered through the dozens of boxes of candy. Eventually it made its way to my ears. I was sitting down behind the counter on a plastic milk crate. I usually didn't "zone" when working, but it was 3 am on a rainy Tuesday and I hadn't had a single customer since 9.

"Bertha! Bertha!"

"I'm here, Jeffery. What is it? What are you doing up so late?" I pulled myself up on my feet and looked through the bullet-proof glass shield. Jeffery's clothes were soaking wet and he was missing a sneaker. His face was dirty and his eyes were red.

I vaporized and slid through the cash-slit of the glass. Jeffery was my favorite great-great-great grandson. Seeing him distressed caused me to forget myself. I spelled him so he'd forget what he'd just seen me do.

"What is it, sweetheart? Why are you out so late? What happened to your other shoe? Why are you crying?" The brown-haired little boy looked startled and jumped when I touched him. I spelled him again. See, I move very quickly. Usually I can hide my speed but like I said, I like this kid. A lot.

"It's mama's boyfriend! He hit mama! I told him I was gonna make him stop and he kicked me in the butt! I fell down the stairs!"

Ah, but of course. My great great great grandson's mother. Beatrice Walker never met a man worth a plugged nickel in a rigged card game. She'd already been married and divorced 4 times. She'd been abandoned one time, but I'll hold my tongue about that particular man. I'd tried to save her from herself her entire life, but once my Jeffery came along, I gave up on his mother and spent all my time and efforts on him.

I was getting on in years, you know.

Jeffery looked around the store. I could feel the hunger radiating off him. Oh my God, he was thin. I hadn't noticed at first but this kid hadn't had a decent meal in a couple days.

"Hotdog, baby? You like it with extra ketchup, no mustard, right?" I walked to the rollers. "Oh, look! There's two! I'll bet you could easily eat two hotdogs, couldn't you?" I opened a fresh bag of hotdog buns and slid them into the warmer. As they heated up, I walked up to the fresh fruit display. There was a small container of green grapes. I added a banana and pulled a strawberry milk out of the QuikPiks display.

"Come over here and wash your hands, honey." I set a cardboard box down and placed a napkin on it. I pulled a footstool over and gestured at Jeffery to sit down. I placed the food and the milk down and he started tearing into the grapes. Yep. This kid had gone at least two days without food.

Beatrice was going to listen to me tonight. The timer on the bun-warmer dinged. I squirted a ridiculous amount of ketchup on both dogs and made a theatrical serving gesture "Bone Appetite, Mon-sewer!"

I told Jeffery I'd be back in a few minutes, in the meantime, he was to finish his food, then lie down behind the counter on the blanket I'd spread out for him. "Don't worry-the door is locked. No one will bother you."

I locked the double doors behind me and walked out of sight of the parking lot lights. Just in case Jeffery was watching. I doubted it, though. I could feel his hunger and right behind it, the pure exhaustion.

I shot straight up into the air. A minute later I was pounding on Beatrice's front door. "INVITE ME IN, HONEY!" I yelled.

"Salaam, effendi." Al said, bobbing his turbaned head in greeting, as I entered my family's convenience store for my early shift, about an hour before dawn. I glanced around, and saw that Al had, as always, faithfully done the cleaning the breakfast food prep, and our pristine 7-11 was ready for me to take over for the morning shift.

Al's a really good employee.

"Dawn approaches." Al reminded me, as I came around behind the counter and stashed my coat behind it.

I smiled. "Not a problem, go ahead and clock out." I had no worries about zeroing out his till, Al was never off by so much as a cent. Like I said, he's really good.

Al gave me a sober nod, and then, without saying another word or breaking eye contact, he glided away backwards, through the swinging "Employees Only" door into the back room. I gave an involuntary shudder.

Well, he's good at doing his job. When it comes to pretending to not be a vampire...he tries. To be fair, back when my grandpa opened the franchise in the 1970s, no one in our small town off the Interstate had ever met a Muslim. So, when Al claimed that his religion forbade him to go out in the daytime, it didn't occur to anyone to call him on it. Its symbol was a crescent moon, after all. Besides, as Al explained, it's much too hot to go out during the day, in his homeland of "South Arabia".

And, without Google to instantly confirm their suspicions, most people would probably have simply passed over the oddity of an ostensibly Muslim man wearing a Sikh-style turban, and being named "Al Abdul". (No, I don't mean his last name is "Al-Abdul" -- first name "Al", last name "Abdul".)

A few minutes later, the safe unlocked automatically, and I placed the money from Al's till inside, before counting out the appropriate amount of change for my own till and closing it again. After opening my till, I glanced at the donation box behind the counter. Another shudder ran down my spine, as I saw the set of neatly folded clothes and a pair of shoes in the box.

The clothes, assuming they weren't particularly distinctive, would go to Salvation Army, but we've never found out what Al does with the rest of his "leftovers". It's probably better that way. When I first found out about Al, my dad had assured me that everyone who "donated to charity" while Al was on shift was someone the world was better off without, and I had personally seen hand-me-downs from some people I knew to be particularly despicable end up in that old cardboard box. It was still unsettling, though.

For the first hour of my shift, I had only a few customers stop in for some coffee or doughnuts, as well as the usual steady stream of people paying at the pump for gas. The man who walked in to the store around 6 AM didn't look much different than most of my customers -- he was unshaven and a little bleary-eyed, but that was to be expected at this time of day.

So imagine my surprise, when he responded to my cheerful "Good Morning!" by shoving a gun in my face.

"Money!" he hissed. "Now!"

I was scared, obviously, but there was a procedure for this, that applied to every employee except Al, who by now, would be asleep inside his "prayer box" in the old storeroom in back.

I followed that procedure to the letter, holding one hand up and gingerly opening the register with the other. He was, predictably, unsatisfied with the handful of bills, and let me know with a string of profanity, and several sharp jabs of his gun in my direction. I shakily pointed to the customary sign on the wall that was designed to prevent just such an awkward situation:

NOTICE: LESS THAN $100 IN REGISTER AT ALL TIMES. EMPLOYEES CANNOT OPEN SAFE.

He expressed his opinion of the sign's veracity by striking me across the face with his gun, sending me staggering back into the shelves of cigarettes behind me, and then vaulting the counter and screaming at me to open the safe. I scrambled back away from the irate -- and, I noticed, clearly tweaking -- robber, while pleading my case vociferously.

Looming over me, he advanced forward, his threats becoming increasingly graphic as he came forward. He didn't fire, because I was just backing up, cowering -- I wasn't trying to run. That, too, was part of the "procedure" I mentioned.

Predictably, as I stopped before the door to the backroom, the angry thief shoved me through the swinging door, and followed me inside, warning me of the consequences of failing to produce any more than the paltry amount I'd given him.

And with that, I had successfully completed the standard emergency procedure that my dad and grandpa had drilled into me, in case of a robbery. We passed into the pale fluorescent light of the backroom, and the door swung shut behind my assailant, shutting out the sunlight.

My assailant stopped pointing his gun at me -- he had little choice, as his gun arm suddenly bent the wrong way. He screamed in pain and horror as a slender, too-tall shape that seemed to be made of pure darkness melted out of the shadows among the shelves, and hauled him off his feet and into the air.

"Al, don't--" I began, my eyes widening in shock, but I didn't finish the sentence before another snap echoed through the backroom. The robbers head lolled to the side, his neck stretched and bent at a sickening angle. I forced my breakfast back down into my stomach.

"I have apprehended the criminal, effendi." Al said, in a hollow, unnatural voice that seemed to come from everywhere at once. "I will...turn him over to the proper authorities."

Swallowing hard, I gave him a mute nod, and watched him melt back into the shadows. I suppose I'd always known that Al's thin human visage wasn't actually meant to fool us -- he didn't think we were stupid. It wasn't so much an actual disguise or deception, as it was a polite fiction. A lie mutually agreed to, that allows otherwise inimical beings to coexist in relative peace, protected by a thin veneer of not-so-plausible deniability.

Once I heard the lid of his box close again, I fled the room through the swinging door as fast as I could.

I heard from my classmates that the cashier at the local 7-11 is a vampire. Aren't vampires supposed to be weak to sunlight? But, you always see him out during the day. Well, even if he is, I don't think he's a bad one. I've been seeing him there since I can remember. I'm 13 now.

Every time I go there he'd drop me back home if I'm late or give me candy and tell me stories if I'm waiting for my mom etc. I remember once Ellie told mom and dad of how Rick had defeated a bear that was about to attack her. But, it being the Ellie who has a crush on Rick, I did not believe it. I was 10 at the time, not 2 to believe that a person can fight a grizzly. Ellie my dear older sister has always been a bit of a cloud head. But, after hearing about the vampire thing, I asked dad about it and he showed me a photo of himself with Rick taken when he was only 10. Rick's been the cashier since even before then.

Dad told me Rick is sort of the guardian angel of our little community. That he's the reason no robber, drug dealer etc ever sets foot here. That he keeps us safe. He said it's a rule that no one tells him that we know he's a vampire because it makes him happy to not be treated as one. If some day people started treating me differently, I wouldn't like it either. It would probably make me sad. So, I vow never to reveal to Rick that i know.

Well, I'll make his favourite cookies for protecting us all.

[Part one. Part two in the comment below.]

The booming thunder shook the walls of the shop, the accompanying flash of lightning unable to penetrate the dark tinted windows. Fluorescent bulbs flickered in the dimly lit aisles. The soft light of the coolers on the shop's perimeter provided most of the illumination. Despite these limitations Vladimir ensured his 'children of the night' could locate the provisions they sought for their late night cravings. The high toned modern klaxon announced the arrival of one.

It was Gerald. A frequent visitor to the shop. He staggered in adorned in a worn out hooded sweatshirt with matching sweatpants. The faded logo of the local high school football team on both pieces of attire. Heavy bags under his thirty one year old eyes. He politely waved to Vladimir as he shambled off down the far aisle. He was going the wrong way. Vladimir took the form of mist and phased through the counter, silently stalking through the shop to retrieve a large jar of crunchy peanut butter and a jar of dill pickle spears. He returned to a corporeal form as he approached Gerald, the pb and pickles hidden under his cape.

"Good evening Gerald. How does ze night find you?"

Gerald yawned loudly and rubbed his face. "Another cravings run. Of course we're out of everything Jen is craving. I'm so damn tired, forgot what I even came in here for." "I believe zis is vhat you are seeking?" Vladimir dramatically swept the cape back revealing the items. Gerald breathed a sigh of relief.

"How do you do that Vlad? You always know what I need when I walk through the doors." Vlad smiled, showing off his long fangs. "Time grants people visdom. Ve shall speak more at ze checkout." Vladimir glided on shadowy bat wings to the counter, phasing through it. Gerald slowly followed behind. "You look like you have not slept a vink in a veek Gerald. You look terrible. Is something veighing on your heart?"

Gerald sighed while trying to locate his wallet, he had forgotten to bring it. "I'm really scared about being a dad. My dad wasn't exactly the best at it. Worried I'm going to make the same mistakes."

"Vehn is ze little one arriving?"

"Any day now."

Vladimir placed his long, spindly fingers on Gerald's shoulder. He searched Gerald's heart, he was a good man, he was worried over nothing. "There is no room for fear in your heart, all I sense is love. Do not confuse the two. Allow me to pay for your items, you left your vallet in ze nursery after double checking ze safety precautions you put in place for ze new arrival." Vladimir quickly bagged the two items and slid them over the counter.

"Thanks Vlad. You always know what to say, feel like I'm going to be coming to you for advice forever."

"I hope you do. I shall always man my post during ze evenings."

Gerald exited the establishment with haste, a renewed energy in his step. Scott and Todd had entered the shop during the encounter. Local teenagers, they were unusually early this evening for their munchie run. Four forty-ounce beers, two bags of nacho cheese Doritos, and a large bag of sour patch kids. Scott looked upset, Todd wore a sly smirk.

"Sup' Vlad?" Scott said flatly.

"How does ze night find you young gentlemen?"

"Okay I guess." Scott said.

Todd laughed. "He's just butthurt cause this super hottie completely shut him down at Fred's party. He had to turn tail and run she shut him down so bad."

"Shut the fuck up bro!" Scott yelled.

"Calm down young gentlemen! No yelling in ze shop. Tell me young Scott, how did zis so called 'super hottie' spurn your advances?"

"I thought it was clever. I asked her to see if she could call my phone since my buddy borrowed it and then ghosted me. So she called it but I still had it in my pocket. So I answered it and asked if she wanted to go make out."

"You attempted to gain zis voman's love through trickery and deception?" Vladimir asked with disdain.

"Oh no, here it comes." Todd said dejectedly.

Vlad stood up tall, he towered over the two boys. "Ze first time I laid eyes on my beloved Leona she vas valking through the town square. She vas the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Or vill see. I rushed from the balcony of my manor to her side. I professed to her that my heart had gone cold from a lifetime of searching for a companion, but her visage caused an eruption of passion so fierce that Vesuvius was put to shame. Zhat together ve vould conquer ze heavens, ze earth, and anything else that lies beyond."

Todd backhanded Scott in the chest. "Told you Vlad was a pimp. You definitely would have been ridin that booty if you had his swag."

Vladimir quickly scanned the items and completed the transaction, visions of his beloved Leona ran in his mind. "Sorry about your rejection young Scott. Enjoy your youth vile it persists. You shall find love one day. Todd I really can't say ze same for you. Good evening young gentlemen.

“$5.99! You gotta be shitting me! I used to be able to get them for $.99 down at Barrel O’ Monkeys across the street”

“Then get them across the street… oh wait Barrel O’ Monkeys went out of business thirty years ago!” He clapped back “Probably because they didn’t sell things for what they were worth and went under!”

Jeff sneered and put another dollar on top of the $5 already on the counter. “And I’ll have my change” he folded his arms and tapped his foot petulantly like a toddler who had been told he can’t have cookies.

A man slid into the store and made his way quietly towards the beer in the back.

“Things cost what they cost. First someone has to make them, package them, ship them out to the stores, then I put them on the shelves and it’s costing me money while it sits there until you come in and purchase it. Honestly it’s a modern miracle that it only costs $5.99 in the first place. There was this grape I ate in Syria back in the old days and that had been stored in this clay pot and transported from… now where was it from again”

The man at the back came bursting up to the counter a handgun thrust forward menacingly. “Everybody be cool this is a robbery! Any of you fucking pigs move and I’ll execute every mutha fucking last one of ya!”

“Look at Tarantino over here” he chuckled “Jeff you should probably leave this to me” Jeff grabbed his things, gave a wave, and moved for the door.

“…I said don’t move!” The robber shouted. He grabbed at Jeff’s collar and yanked him backwards. Quicker that he could react the man behind the counter caught Jeff from falling and whisked him out the door. The robber stood there confused. As the store clerk came back in he was smoking and he locked the door behind him. “Ruined a perfectly good jacket doing that” he said to no one in particular. The robber unloaded his pistol into him. “Well that was rude” the smoke coming off the clerk was beginning to abate. The freshly punched hole in his shirt and chest were dry.

The robber stood there shaking. This wasn’t how it was meant to go. In and out in 60 secs. No muss no fuss. This was all wrong.

“I’m sorry” the robber said genuinely “I don’t know what I was thinking”.

“It’s ok but you can’t go around waving that thing at people. What if you had hurt Jeff? Denise would have been very sad”

“Who is Denise?” The robber ventured

“Oh that’s his long suffering girlfriend. They’ve been together on and off since high-school. She is really lovely”

“Can I just go?” He asked

“Well you could but I locked the door. I’ve also sent a text message to the sherif so I expect he’ll want to word with you. I better take that before he gets here.” He motioned towards the gun and the robber just handed it to him defeated.

“You aren’t from around here are you?”

“I’m just passing through. I ran out of money a couple of counties over but just ran out of gas a way down the road.” He was on the verge of tears.

“So you thought you’d just make a quick buck and then what?”

“Honestly I hadn’t really thought it through.”

“Well you should have filled your car up first if you had. Price of petrol these days it would have been worth more than the cash register.” The man nodded.

“So what happens now?” He asked.

“Well we can wait for the sherif to arrive. He normally plays golf on Tuesdays so he’ll be 10-15mins away. So we have some time to kill.” The robber suddenly bolted for the doors and confirming they were locked frantically searched for another exit.

“I don’t think that will help. But feel free to tire yourself out if you’d like” the clerk watched him like a snake watches a mouse that had been lowered into his cage.

“Look man you could just let me go. You don’t seem to be any worse for wear and I’m really sorry that I shot you. But no harm no foul right?”

The clerk smiled and tapped his incisor with a long finger nail. “No harm. No foul. But there was harm. I had to run Jeff outside. Couldn’t have you shooting my best customer. It’s pretty bright out and that caused me to burn. So there is some harm there. Plus you shot me and ruined my shirt. There is foul there”

“Look mister I’m really sorry about all of that and if I had known you were… what are you? A vampire?” The clerk nodded.

“I blend in so well I know”

“Ok well if I had known you were a vampire I never would have come in here. And if the sherif comes and locks me up that’ll be my third strike and I don’t think I can survive in prison again”

“I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that”

“You didn’t text the sherif did you”

He shook his head.

I heard the bell ring out as I swung open then door. I walked past the counter and the worker behind it, heading towards the drinks.

"Hey Greg," a raspy voice called out behind me. "Hows it going?"

"Oh same old stuff, nothing new going on. How about you?" I grabbed a soda, swiftly shutting the door to the cooler. "You're still on the night shift clearly" I turned around, my eyes taking in pale skin and black eyes.

"Well it's been my shift for the last couple of years I doubt they'll take it anytime soon." He glanced down at his hands. He didn't even look thirty so working 50 let alone 15 sounded unlikely.

"That's true" I said with a smile. I watched his tense body relax, with a smug look on his face. He was so sure in hi disguise I couldn't bare to tell him and I'm knew others felt the same. I put the bottle down, careful to avoid touching him, remembering another time when I accidentally had. He was cold and dry, an other worldly feeling had enveloped me when our skin brushed. His hand had a leathery texture that just didn't sit right with me.

"What are you doing out so late?" He glanced at me as he scanned the drink.

"Is it really that late?" I asked glancing the clock on my phone. 11:46 pm it read. "Oh I suppose it is getting dark" I looked at some of the items around me, picking up a chocolate bar, tossing it on the counter.

"Look at that, 8 dollars exactly" the voice repeated with little excitement. I placed a 10 on the counter and watched as his grey bony hands slid it off the counter and placed it into the register. He pulled 2 dollars out of the slot next to it and let it fall in front of me. I grabbed it, the bill had a crisp chill to it.

He slid the register closed with a clink and glanced up at me.

"I heard someone went missing recently, they were last spotted just down the road." I watched him tense a little, looking back down at his hands. "Oh"

"Well I'd better get home then, stay safe okay"

"Yea...sleep well, don't let the bed bugs bite" He emphasize the last word, sending a chill down my spine.

"R-right" I left the building, the feeling I was being watched not leaving me. I felt eyes drilling into my neck, burning holes. Almost painful, two small dots on the naps of my neck. No, it was painful, and it was burning. I felt those deadly cold hands wrap around my shoulders. Something stabbed into my neck. At first it burned as the venom flooded my body, then the pain faded, all my senses along with it. Maybe we shouldn't have been so nice to the vampire that had taken a liking to our little town.

My mom and I pulled into the 7-11. She had gotten off late again and it was already dark and cold. I don't move as she steps out of the car.

"Come on, honey, we don't have all night," she says.

"...Is Carmilla in there?" I ask, fidgeting with my hoodie strings. I hated going in when she was there. She scared me. My mom shrugged, "Probably. Come on! She's not going to bite. She's such a sweetheart."

Knowing I can't argue with her, I get out and head to the door with her.

"Remember, don't-"

"Point anything out. I knooow." I whine.

"Welcome! Annie! Little Joanna! How are you two doing?" Carmilla asked, her smile far too big and her wave too fast. I notice red on her top lip. I squeeze my mom's hand. She pretends not to notice.

"Hi Carmilla. We're doing good! How's the night treating you?"

"Very, very well. Another late shift for you? You must be starving! I know the hospital doesn't serve anything as delicious as the junk here. I have some things coming out fresh for you." Carmilla comes out from behind the counter, teleporting 7 feet away. My mom and I flinch and I hide behind her. My mom yawns to cover up noticing the slip up then says something about needing to take a vacation. I peek out behind her. Carmilla comes back with a cardboard tray with hot dogs, a small pizza, my favorite chips, and two fountain drinks, this time taking care to move slowly.

"Ah, a vacation sounds nice. I'm too old to go anywhere that's full of sun though. I burn easily now." Carmilla says, as she rings up our food. She doesn't look much older than my 30 year old mom despite the curly white wig she wore. Her skin is pale, without any hint of a blush, and flawless except for around her eyes. They're dark like she hadn't slept and somewhat sunk in.

I also saw her fangs once last year. I had seen her drinking blood from the goat at the Harvest Festival. I had bounced my pumpkin patterned ball a little too hard against a rock and had to chase it all the way to the petting zoo area. It had landed near the pen. And she looked up as I fell on my bottom from surprise. Her arms were around the goat like she had been hugging his neck, but blood had collected on her bottom lip. She said she loved animals and had come to pet them so they wouldn't get lonely while everyone was preoccupied with the other festivities. I ran away without my ball and found parents and their friends. I told them Carmilla was a monster. They looked at each other uncomfortably until my mom said, "I saw her eating a red candy apple. The syrup was probably on her lip." But I knew what I saw, even with the adults nodding to one another and talking about how nice she was. Carmilla had given me back my ball the next time we saw her at the gas station.

My mom continues to make conversation with her. She is very nice for a monster. She always remembers what I like to eat and will sometimes give me new snacks to try for free. But she still scares me. I wish she didn't.

"Mom!" I whisper impatiently. They giggle and say goodnight. We turn to leave when the entry bell chimes and Gus walks in, almost ramming into my mom. We step back. He glowers at us and says, "You're in the way."

"Ah, Gus! How nice to see you!" Carmilla says cheerfully. Her eyes however, turn dark and scary, with no light in them at all. Gus waves her off and says, "Pack of Camels." Carmilla already has it and holds it out.

"And a Pepsi?" She asks pleasantly, her fully black eyes boring into him and her fangs pointing out. Even though I'm frozen with terror, a part of me finds it kind of funny to me to see rude old Gus go from acting like a jerk to fidgeting like me. He nods and she rings him up. He grabs his drink out of the fridge and leaves. The air is freezing and I can't move. Carmilla breaks the spell by asking if we need help.

"Oh, no thank you. We're just trying to avoid Gus. You know how he is."

"After all these years, yes, I do. He's always been an ass. Even when we were little," Carmilla says. This time, the goodbye is real and we leave.

"Mom?"

"I know." She shushed and we get in the car. I look down at the tray in my lap and see Carmilla had included a lollipop for me.

"Why do you pretend she's not a monster when she does stuff like that?" I ask. My mom stays quiet.

Shell had a great life. He had friendly engaging family members, work he loved, and things to do...But all that changed when he died. He reached the end of life and he was given a choice, go on to the afterlife, live in bliss, or become a vampire. On his deathbed, an old crone approached him and asked him if he wished to ascend to heaven or take the gift of eternal life as a vampire. Shell was selfish. He thought of all the lovely colorful times with family members and friends, and he made a choice. He chose the vampire's bite. Immediately after saying yes, the crone moved out of the way, and a 10000-year-old vampire, towering with black feathers and pale pasty, but slimy skin approached him quickly and the bite was done.

Shell could feel the hard, ancient teeth, yellow and old as they were, like wooden daggers in his skin. He felt the bite in his whole soul. It was like the pain entered his whole being, not just the skin, it seemed to break the fiber of his spiritual self as well.

But his selfishness was stronger than his pain, stronger than his fear. He awoke from the bite, hours later, and the crone had vanished. The vampire however remained, and in his hands was a 7-11 uniform. This is for you, he said.

A night shift, so you will not be bothered. (part 2 below)

"Evening, Jonah. You're here a bit later than usual." Cameron's voice was tinged with concern.

"Aye, bit of bad news I'm afraid. Ol' Man Edwards was found dead on the Western Trail. Think he got hit by a mountain lion." Jonah's quiet sigh caused Cameron's death white face to pale considerably.

"Tim's dead?"

That was just another sign of Cameron's immortality. Everyone knew the truth, but no one ever outright asked or told Cameron that they knew. The "guesses" got more and more outlandish, but they kept the quiet little community in high spirits. Some claimed Cameron was the spitting image of his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather who'd been running the night shift at the town's 7-11. Some claimed he was a genetically enhanced super soldier with an unnatural lifespan. Some even claimed he was an elf, capable of living for over a thousand years. But everyone knew. Cameron was a vampire. A silent protector who kept all criminals out of the quiet little town. He also fended odd the supernatural entities that the cops struggled against.

But the biggest clue was his friendship with Tim Edwards. Tim was the town's old man, living there since he was born. And in his entire lifetime, he never allowed anyone but Cameron to call him Tim since his return from 'Nam.

Jonah nodded as he reached up to shortly scratch at the bald spot he had inherited from his dad's side of the family, "Strange though. He had his 30-ought with him. And it didn't scare away a mountain lion."

Cameron tilted his head to the side as he took a step forward. Normally, stepping forward like that would bump into the edge of the counter. But Cameron glided theough it like a hot knife through butter.

"I know that you're not an investigator and if anyone else caught wind of me asking you, but I heard through grandpa that he called upon your Daddy a time or two. I'd like to ask you to take a look and keep that tradition going."

Cameron's lips turned up in a smile, causing his face to turn creepy as Jonah tried not to grimace, "It'd be my pleasure."

Those simple words told Jonah that whoever... or whatever... had killed Tim Edwards wouldn't be alive by the end of the night. And that terrified Jonah more than whatever Cameron truly was.

(couldn't resist making this into a "comedy" type thing, not just for the joke, but because I was watching B99)

Dear Diary:So everyone knows by this point that Vampireson McVampire is, well a vampire, I mean, Fist of all, he was like 90 years old when he started working in the store, and he has been working there for like 50 years or so, I mean, kind of a red flag there.Second of all His name is Vampireson McVampire, like, who has THAT name, It's ridiculous.Or the time he drank a whole bottle of ketchup and said "hey! this isn't blood" just to correct himself and assure that "he didn't drink blood, because only a vampire would do such a thing, and he wasn't one"And, well, the fact that he has already transformed into a vampire, and I've watched him sucking the blood out of rats behind the store (and Jeffree, but nobody liked him).But, In all seriousness, Mr McVampire Is not a bad person, he has been Employee of the Month for 47 years consecutively, and by this point, everyone knows him and he is truly one of the most liked people in this town.The other day, I forgot my wallet at home, and he just gave me my Doritos and sprite "on the house" because he is THAT kind of good old man.The problem is that Ms Williams (who's such a Karen BTW) called the vampire hunters, and no one has the heart to rat out Mr McVampire.I mean, he's pretty harmless, he wouldn't hurt a fly, a rat maybe, but a fly, never.Even Mr Williams is mad at her, because who in the world would do such a thing to a man so sweet?And now, the guys and I are thinking of a plan to save Mr McVampire, because even though he thinks he "hides it well" we all know he does not.

(Edit: Spelling)

"HELP WANTED

Seeking mature, responsible unique individuals who are nocturnally-oriented.

I run a small business and am searching for strong, loyal, reliable workers. Please call 555-112-6660 after 9pm. Resumes may be submitted online or in person. Please add a page with personal "needs" highlighted so we can accommodate all situational eccentricities."

I turned towards my girlfriend. "I don't know honey, what do you think about this one?"

She laughed in my face. "Dude, read between the lines--it's PERFECT. Where's the store located?

I read on the backpage ad a bit further. "Oh! It says 'Multiple Locations Need Staffing'! Maybe there's one nearby?"

Amanda drifted up and looked over my shoulder. "Shit, dude, maybe we could both get hired! That could solve so many problems for us!" Her eyes welled up.

"I know, honey. I know. I'll start feeling this guy out, let me call him tonight."

"Baby--it's a full moon. You can't. Just shoot him a text or email and send your resume. Tell him you're out of town, or something. Get your foot in the door, ya know?"

I looked at Amanda. As usual, she was right. I stood up from the kitchen table and began locking the doors and closing the shutters. I was still young and occasionally got caught by surprise. "Can you manage the chains, darling?" I asked. Amanda lifted both hands up in an "I don't know" gesture.

"If you want to be 100% sure, do it yourself, dearest."

I kissed her on the nose and told her I'd see her in the morning. I headed down into the basement. I bolted the door behind me.

When I woke the next morning, Amanda was unusually chipper. She began to speed-talk. She does this when she's excited.

"So, remember that store? The one looking for "nocturnals"? Well, I kept thinking about it and while you were locked in the basement, I called the man! HE TOTALLY WANTS TO TALK TO US!!!!"

She jumped up and down in her excitement. "Victor, he sounds SO COOL!" He says he'll see you after 9, but as for me, you're talking to the Midnight Manager of Location 87!"

I hugged Amanda, as best as I could, anyway. "Congratulations, darling! I'm so happy for you! I'm so proud of you!!!"

She was ecstatic. I could see it in her eyes, and that night she floated up to the ceiling half a dozen times. She does that when she's happy. I was happy for her. I felt guilty she'd been trapped in this house for so many years, she needed to get out and get her own money and meet some friends.

"I can't wait to take you to your first night of work! Maybe we should go shopping? Get you a new outfit?"

"Victor, what's wrong with my outfit?"

"Nothing! Honey! Nothing! I'm sorry, I just thought....I mean....it's gorgeous! You're gorgeous.....I.........." I faded off.

I'm sure her clientele would love to see a Victorian bride while picking up their hotdogs and beer in the middle of the night.

He was never a fan of sunlight. He was nocturnal from the time when he understood what that meant. That was why his parents signed him up for night school at the age of 6. That was also why he made it a priority to finish school, even if he had to do it online!

The job at 7-11 had sustained him through community college and his online courses. After his undergrad days, it took a lot of saving and planning, but he finally bought his own franchise. This made it easier to keep a low profile but still make a living. His place was only a few blocks from the store, and none of his employees minded the fact that he preferred the graveyard shift.

The only night he insisted on having off every year was Halloween, which his shift manager turned into an all-night Halloween bash! No one ever questioned his lifestyle, since he trained more than 100 managers and 20 franchise owners during his 50 year career. The franchise had been good to him, and he knew almost every face that came into his store.

The year came that an apartment building next door was leveled, and a large Catholic church was built in its place. There was talk about his retirement, and his shift managers seemed to be getting more and more Catholic customers. While almost none of the catholic customers came during the night, a young priest had been seen standing on the church steps and praying toward the 7-11. Each time this happened, about once a week, the owner was usually not at work.

As the years went by, the young priest moved up to the next priest to take over the parish. He was now praying every night, around midnight, on the church steps. The franchise owner had tried to dissuade him, but the neighborhood always sided with the priest and the parish, which had opened up a parochial school, and offered quality education for reasonable rates. The parish was thriving, and the owner seemed to have been forgotten.

After being there for 20 years, the church transformed the seedy neighborhood to a safe haven for young families. The 7-11 was bought out by one of the church members, and became the new parish headquarters. An article appeared in the local paper, noting the changing of the neighborhood. Next to that article was another article about several other 7-11 franchises that had moved into scary parts of town. All were owned by the same man who started that corner 7-11.

The priest was now the parish director. He made plans to open up churches and schools near each of these new 7-11 locations. Eventually, the priest was seen praying on the steps of each church or school until the day he died. However, the habit of midnight mass caught on at every Catholic building across the world. No one knew what happened to the nocturnal man who started his business at that corner, but every 7-11 that was even within sight of a Catholic ministry was soon bought out by church members. The entire chain began to help transform neighborhoods across the world, because of the simple prayers of one man!

“Did you see what she did yesterday?”

“Fuck, what now?”

“She wore a crucifix necklace. And she kept telling everyone she was going to the fucking Garlic festival this weekend.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I wish I was.”

“Did anyone say anything?”

“A few of the regulars, Veronica and Bill, complimented her on the necklace and asked her what kind of dishes she makes with garlic. And we know why they asked. They love her stories. Always like to see how far she’ll go. Bill told me that’s why he doesn’t report her. And he thinks she’s hot.”

“What did she say to them?”

“She told Bill she was blushing when he complimented her on the crucifix.”

“Which if course she wasn’t blushing. Because, hello, she’s a fucking vampire. What did she say about the garlic?”

“You’re going to love this one.”

“Fuck me.”

“Yeah. And this one is one of her best ones--she also said she makes a special garlic lotion, which is why she’s going to the garlic festival. To get more garlic so she can make more lotion because it’s expensive to buy online.”

“Come the fuck on.”

“It gets better. She then puts her hands to her face and told Veronica the lotion is what gives her such a fare, but youthful complexion. And of course, she is smiling, doing her trying-to-look-innocent-look. Veronica almost spit out her Icee.”

“Let me guess. She smiled the smile she does trying hide her fangs, the smile where it just looks like she’s got a painful sore under her lip?”

“Yep.”

“Doesn’t she know how terrible the stories are that she makes? I mean, highlighting the very things that are supposed to ward away vampires? Come on.”

“She scares the shit out of me.”

“She’s worked at this 7-11 for more than fifty years, so they say. Two of those years, with you as the manager. You should talk to her, I dunno, about like life and shit. Maybe you’ll see she’s not so scary.”

“I can’t do it. Then I form a connection with her. Plus, she’d kill me in the wild.”

“You think?”

“Absolutely.”

“She’s a vampire that works at a 7-11, who puts a ton of time trying to hide she’s not a vampire. Pretty sure that she wouldn’t kill you in the wild.”

“You don’t know that. We don’t know shit about her prior life. Why of all the things she could be doing with her time, she works at 7-11? Probably stalks customers, follows them home, feeds on them, and mind wipes them or some shit like that.”

“That’s intense. But then why does she go through all the trouble of trying to hide she’s vampire, and do a terrible job at it?”

“To make people let their guard down so she can kill them?”

“If she wanted to kill people, she’d just do it. You said it yourself. Plenty of other shit she could be doing other than working at a 7-11 and spending her time making up terrible stories to try to hide her true self.”

“Whatever the reason is, it can’t be good. Sometimes I’d wish she’d quit. Fat chance though, as she’s been working here for damn fifty-years.”

“But you’ve told me before you have a soft spot for her. I’m confused you’d want her to quit.”

“I said sometimes I wish. And the fact she just tries so hard to blend in and fails miserably, I got a soft spot for that. Reminds me of when I tried so hard to be cool in high school and failed miserably. Second reason is she is also a great employee. And she’s been working here for more than fifty-years! Who am I to fuck that up?”

“Better employee than me?”

“Way better than you.”

“Dang, at least lie to me.”

“Well shit, she never makes the excuse that she can’t rearrange the back storage because the lift dolly needs fixing when I ask her.”

“That dolly is a piece of shit. Breaks all the time on me.”

“She doesn’t even need the dolly because she has super strength, that’s my point. Which scares me even more.”

“I still think you should just chat with her. She isn’t so bad.”

“Speaking of shit employees, I just remembered I forgot to tell her tomorrow she needs to work Saturday for Harold because another one his grandmas died again. That dude. Doesn’t he remember it’s like the fifth grandma that has died since he’s worked here, for less than a year? Almost as bad as that vampire’s stories.”

“Won’t she get pissed at you and rip your head off for dropping that on her last minute?”

“She asked me to come to her for any open shifts first, so I do. She says she’ll cover any shift at any time.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“What?”

“You ‘hmmed’ a certain way when I told you she told me to go to her for covering shifts.”

“Did she tell you why she does that?”

“Tells me she can cover any shift?”

“Yeah.”

“No. She told me to go to her, I didn’t ask why. I don’t want to know shit about the vampire’s personal life. Maybe she needs the money or something.”

“I ask, because she told me the same thing, to go to her first if I need a shift covered. And she gave me a reason too. Like she made sure to emphasize the reason.”

“What did she say?”

“She told me she doesn’t really do much, other than make wooden stakes to sell online to vampire hunters.”

“Oh wow. Just full on said that she makes stakes for vampire hunters. Like, really?”

“Yep.”

“Wow, you’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I’m not.”

“No, not that. She just text me and said she needs to get off work early tomorrow.”

“Did she say why?”

“She said she forgot to tell me she’s getting baptized.”

“Fuck me.”

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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