My luck turn around after finding a job for a gas station; one that pays well. Too well and no one else trying to apply for the job felt strange. When asked to show up for the night shift and work right away, I had found it strange but shrugged it off. I was hungry, cold and he had bought me lunch so I didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth. During the day; I had trouble sleeping. So much has changed with me being in prison; sure only in there for six years I had been lucky at the end of the day.
Anyways; night time rolls around and I found myself left with a list of rules. Rule 1; feed Hank the Hawk; there should be fish in the fridge, if no fish then there should be some mice for him in the fridge behind the counter, remember to keep track if were running low or not.
I was confused at first; thinking nothing of it until I saw him, the biggest hawk I've ever seen in my life, had to be at least three feet, I've never seen hawk this big. Hank made a series of high-pitched "kee-aw" and flapped his wings. I couldn't help but laugh and start feeding him; feeding him salmon and he ate it up like he was starving.
At the back of the gas station pounding can be heard, "wham! Bam! Wham, bam! Slam!" The sounds echoed through the store. So looking at the list; sure enough I had seen rule 2, "make sure the locks are on and if a lock is broken or fallen off, please apply another lock from the back room. Oh and please do ignore any screaming you may hear." To the door on the backside I find it's tightly locked, everything on and all that. These strange symbols on the door. The paper had what looked like Japanese symbols on them. Which I had found strange. Other part I had found strange was the fact no banging was on the door before. Besides that, the blood on the floor and the smell of rust was my only concern. Look; I went to prison, I've seen stuff in there and learn the hard way; snitches get stiches. I don't ask, I don't tell. Oh and ratting to the guards?
Even the guards ratting to them only gets you a beating from them, making them do their actual fucking job. Sorry, point is; I've had my snitching beaten out of me. To put this in a way you could understand; I had been given twenty four broken ribs, two broken legs and two broken arms. Oh and of course I'd been stabbed multiple times. Not in the same day mind you but throughout my time in prison. You might be wondering why I'm telling you this then? Well for what's it's worth I asked my employer if I could post my experiences here and sure enough I was given the go ahead; so long I didn't tell people where I worked. Which I obliged.
Anyways; rule three, mop up the blood and once the gallons of blood are mopped, the screaming should stop. Which it did after I mopped everything up. While I was mopping this up, I hadn't noticed the strange man from across the road watching me which I hadn't mind if I'm quite honest since my first thought was, "fuck I had to clean this up. Shit what if he tells the police? Am I going to have to kill someone?" Sure enough, foolishly I had not looked at rule four. Rule four which stated, "if you see a man watching you; lock the doors and do not look at him in the eye. At the time; confused me as of why the doors aren't always locked until I took a glimpse at rule five. At the given time; running towards the door until a blink of an eye the man appeared in the store; quite literally I blinked and each time I did he was teleporting around the store, mind you; he still moves around like it's nothing. We luckily never made eye contact but something I hadn't noticed before; his head is fake, a mannequin head on a fleshy body. While he shops I'm looking at the list.
Rule four adding, "if you didn't lock the gas station in time; don't worry, just don't look at him in the eye and don't speak to him. Give him what he came for and what he wants. Whatever he's going to pay you with; take it." As he looked around the gas station I realize he's coming my way, quickly look down and away. He approaches the counter.
His hands bathed in the moonlight were a rich dark skin tone. He almost reminded me of my ex's lover. The hands tough, built like he did physical intensive labor. A paper sided on the counter towards me. The paper reads, "good afternoon sir; I'd like your finest pack of cigarettes on the top right." Then towards the bottom says, "please; unlock the red doors in the back" at that request I ignore. Again, prison rules; don't get yourself involved if you don't need too. The pack of cigarettes passed to him on the counter; his hands feel them and sure enough, he drops some human teeth on the counter for me. I put them in the cash register and notice his hands don't match the rest of his skin tone being white pale body. This detail I ignore as I watch him from the counter to see him wait for me with him eventually realizing I'm not coming; so he place the pack of cigs on the ground and slide them under the door along with a box of matches. He goes to leave out the front door until someone pulls up in a white van. The headless man waits until the customer steps inside and goes towards the counter. The man notices the headless man.
In an amazed tone he says, "nice costume du-" as soon as he looked the head dead in the eye or where the eyes would be, you hear a wet, "splat!" Sound and the head starts screaming again, banging on the door happens again. The head now taken off the body with it being replaced with the fake head and taking the real thing onto his person.
The monster speaks, "aw, much better." He turns to me with my head still down but I still see the pool of blood. I can feel the smile as the monster calmly assures me, "the longer you wait to take those seals off the door for me; the harsher the death will be from me. The omamori will fail sooner or later and when they do; I'll make sure to have your death be a nice and slow one; rest assured my friend." Then like that in a blink of an eye he leaves. On my part quickly locking the door with me panic calling my boss.
My boss groans over the phone, "let me guess; first night it happened? Well fuck what were the odds. Hang on, I'll be there. Just hang tight." It didn't take long for my boss to get to here and help deal with the body. He kept the van nearby, taking the license plate off.
I explained, "he got in before I could lock the door! I was going too!"
My boss sighs, "he must be getting faster and stronger; it's alright just avoid it if you can."
I pry a bit with curiosity in my tone, "does this happen often?"
My boss thinks for a moment, "before? No, recently? Yes. Anyways; I'm heading back, please try to keep anyone else from dying; oh and we have more locks and talisman in the back."
Quick to question, "why don't we put them on the front of the building as well?"
My boss explains, "first off don't be asking questions you don't want the answer two and second; remember the rules from prison, they'll help you out here and third if you really must know. We have a deal with the pigs, this place keeps him coming back again and again; last time I put seals on the front of the door, some real bad stuff started happening to the nearby towns. Trust me, the longer we keep him hear, the better." I go to ask one more question but stop myself. Instead I start searching for info online, anything to help me. Okay I learn not to snitch and not to put my nose where it doesn't belong but even in prison we had gossip and rumors still.
From what I could find for a headless and handless man in Ohio was a rich man named Edward Fisher who went insane and became a cult leader trying to summon demons and killed quite a few people, he ended up being killed with his head being taken off along with his hands. However, supposedly his head lived on and so did his hands as if he couldn't die; as if something kept him alive. In my mind it had to be a phylactery; yes I'm a nerd, shut up.
A part of me is glad to know this isn't some kind of innocent man turned into a monster. On some level, I'd wanted to help him and potentially avoid death. Look; when the toughest guy in the room wants to kick your ass; you roll over or make sure you got a shiv big enough to deal with him; fighting should be the last thing on the table. However, considering if I did help him I'd likely be cut up anyways I'd rather not help him.
The door opens and I look up from my phone to see an obese man with a trucker hat on, the hair curly ginger hair and in a white tank top with sun burnt left arm. He's missing a left eye and his right is a calm light blue. The man smells of fast food, piss and beer; quickly I look to see rule five. Rule five, "make sure the door is unlocked and if it's not; he's going to bust in and beat you like a piñata. He looks like an overweight ginger truck driver. Please don't call the cops, they know better than to show up when he's here. Hurry up and run out to the truck and fuel it up and surprisingly yes, he'll leave money on the counter. Do not talk to him, you can wave, nod, etc. just not speak to him.
I do just that; run out to the truck that's sitting out there and fuel it up. I can see from the pumps that he puts exactly the correct amount of money down on the table. This goes swimmingly until I make one mistake. He sneezed. I casually say, "bless you." Then at that moment my body taken off the ground like it was nothing and tied to the front of his truck. You'd think for a truck driver he doesn't go fast but oh he goes fast, the truck going over a hundred miles an hour with the cold wind slapping my face, the bugs hitting my face and every part of me wanting to die as my limbs are stretched to their limit.
At morning time I somehow survived and find myself in the middle of nowhere; I knew which way to walk back and the hours upon hours of walking back until my boss picks me up on his way. He slowly shakes his head as I get into the car.
My boss casually asks, "you ignored rule five didn't you?"
I protest, "look he sneezed and I said bless you! Okay!" Every joint in my body hurt and every part of me wanted to die at that moment. However I carry on.
My boss scoffs, "yeah; "sneezed" to trip you up; spirits can't sneeze, I think, anyway just don't do that again. The fact he didn't kill you is a good sign, then again no other cars on the road probably is why you survived, probably need to add that to the rule book then." He shrugs. With a yawn, "anyways; well deal with that issue when we get to that road."
So sure enough, I stayed. What? After everything you'd think I'd leave? Good pay, "under the table pay" I'm left to my own devices with having to do little to no work? Get to watch a trucker and that monster brawl near the gas station pumps every once in a while? I mean fuck why wouldn't I stay? Sure that monster is slowly getting to be a bigger pain in my ass over time with him moving faster and quicker with teleportation but what can I say, I still enjoy the job. Hank the Hawk enjoys my company and helps pick at the fingers that try to escape past the door. The fingers are quite long for the body I got to say. Anyways wish me luck on this career path. Is this the smartest career choice? Probably not if I'm honest but hey it's going to be fun while it last.
Oh and the truck driver? I may not be able to speak to him but we write notes to each other, I ask a question; the next night he comes in with an answer written down. However one question I wish I hadn't gotten the answer to, "what happen to you?" After I wrote that down and handed it to him; in an instant I'd been transported into the seat next to him, trucks crashing on the highway and sure enough him slamming into an oil tanker; it wouldn't be so bad had he not been smoking while driving and another truck from behind slamming into him, sending his truck into the other. I didn't just see it, I felt every agonizing second and I was screaming by morning time by the time I snapped out of it. At that point; I learn that some questions, are better left un answered. You want to know the worse part? The other drivers perspectives I had to live through each ones death; only then did I realize when looking at his truck the other night, it's made of three different truck parts.
As for the cult leader monster? He started a cult, again; the trucker is helpful in dealing with his people. Surprisingly, not just killing people now because someone started to worship him once they found out about him and considering his sway, he is quite charismatic when he's not threatening to kill you. His preaching and messaging is quite enthralling and I could easily see my younger self falling for his rhetoric.
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