Scrivenings of the King-Beyond-The-Wall

Mirror Mirror #11

The town of Raven’s Bluff was an interesting one because it was neither common to see ravens, nor was it situated on a bluff. There was a common belief among the townsfolk that their founding fathers were either a few standard deviations shy of the median on the IQ bell curve, or drunk off their asses during the naming meeting. More than likely both.

Raven’s Bluff was perhaps most famous for being one of those “only gas station for the next 40 miles” towns listed on road signs along the interstate. Saying that it was in the middle of nowhere would have been an overly generous description of its remoteness. With a population of a little over what could fill an old-timey movie theater, it was not a popular destination for anyone except tow truck drivers dropping off mathematically-challenged motorists who couldn’t quite look at the “40 miles” road signs and properly calculate how much gas they had left in their tank.

Justin, one of those motorists who knew better than to challenge the fuel efficiency of a three-quarters empty tank on an aging pickup truck in the middle of nowhere, pulled into the gas station for a fill-up and a couple snacks. He went into the tiny convenience store attached to the station and grabbed some junk food and one of those bottled iced coffee things that would hopefully keep him awake for the next few hours until he finished driving to his destination.

When he approached the counter, he suddenly realized he was alone in the store. No sign indicating that someone would be back in a few minutes, or sounds coming out of the back room. He had just used the bathroom, so the clerk wasn’t in there; it was just like the place was completely abandoned. He could have sworn he saw a clerk in here through the window earlier, but maybe not.

“Hello?” he called out. “Is anybody here?”

When no one responded, he peeked behind the counter, where he gasped. There was a wide trail of what was either cherry smoothie syrup or blood, still fresh and wet, leading from behind the counter to the store room in the back. Now, you might be thinking this is the point in the story where Justin investigated the store room, found a body, and called the cops. Or where he took out his cell phone and started recording because he was a fan of true crime podcasts and fancied himself something of an amateur detective. You would be wrong on both counts because what Justin actually did was immediately leave the store, get in his car, and drive off because he figured whatever happened at that gas station was not his fucking problem. Oh, and he also kept the snacks. As it turns out, Justin’s also kind of a douche. But at least he was the kind of douche who recognizes that nothing good comes out of investigating suspicious things at a sketchy gas station in the middle of nowhere.


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(504 words)


Prompt: Set your story in a town that’s teetering on the edge of something dark.