September 2006 Issue The Horror Library, your Haunted Home for Horror Fiction, Dark Art, Horror Games, Movie Reviews, Book Reviews, Non-Fiction, Alternative Music, Horror Authors, Horror Short Fiction and featuring The Terrible Twelve - RJ Cavender, Bailey Hunter, Boyd E Harris, Megg Roper, Jason Beirens, CJ Hurtt, Eric Stark, Cordelia Snow, Chris Perridas, Curt Mahr, Stephen Sommerville, M Louis Dixon, Kerry Drummond
His dark eyes sat in a nest of wrinkles. Unblinking, he stared forward. He began
to talk, but then stopped. His eyes fixed on something, somewhere far away. He
sighed and broke wind.
How long had he sat in that booth. Sat with flat beer and crusted bread,staring forward. The diner was twenty–four hours and he used that fact to never leave. No one ever approached him, not as long as I had been here. I was pullinga double shift; at the end of the first shift, I let curiosity get the best of me.
I approached him, "Old man."
He did not turn his gaze, "Yes? What is it?" his voice old and cracked.
"Do you need anything? Would you like me to take your coat? It's quite warm today."
Still staring, he said, "No thank you."
I went back to my duties.
He sat there for years. Not days, weeks, or months, but years. I'd ask him if he needed anything most days. Sometimes I would leave him alone.
I took a month off, for my wedding, and honeymoon. When I returned he was still there.
I sat next to him, "How old are you, Old man?"
He stared forward still. "Older than any one has the right to be."
With that I left him.
A few days later a couple came into the diner. A man and a woman, the man looked a bit like Sean Connery in his prime, and the woman was a short dark haired woman dressed like a gypsy. She was quite beautiful. They held hands as they entered. They looked very happy.
After a few seconds of looking around they spotted the old man. They smiled at each other, then slowly made their way to him. Old Man's eyes still stared.
"Hello, Jonathan." said the woman.
"Time to go home." Said, Sean Connery with a gentle voice.
Jonathan got to his feet. He removed his jacket. Large wings folded out. They were dragon wings, scaly and shimmering with lizard sheen. The wings stretched out like arms would. His jacket sat bunched up on the floor. I walked over
picked it up, and handed it to the woman. She shook the dust off of it, and
said, "Thank you."
Jonathan and the couple walked out into the sun lit street. Jonathan's wings shimmered again in the dim low light of the restaurant, and then the three of them were gone.
