By E. A. P. Duffy

It wasn't as if there was no sign that something was going to go wrong that day. Firstly, the weather turned sour almost immediately after I left my house, and I was forced to turn back and fetch an umbrella. This made me almost ten minutes late to my engagement, and if I hadn't been ten minutes behind, I likely wouldn't have witnessed the automobile accident a few blocks into my walk. Three automobiles, piled up in the center of an intersection, steam pouring from their bonnets. Blood spattered on the ground - a nasty sight.

If I hadn't witnessed that, I likely wouldn't have diverted my path through the park. And then, I wouldn't have witnessed a strange scattering of feathers on the path - as though a crow had been attacked, the feathers were spread in a circle. I've always been somewhat fond of crows and ravens, jays and jackdaws, so this occurrence was where I started to be concerned. The immediate conclusion to reach was that there had been something of a corvid massacre in the area. I picked a feather up off the ground, and scanned the trees as my walking slowed. Nothing in the trees. Not a single crow in sight, nor bird of prey. Just feathers, enough to make up half a bird at least. No blood here, either. My brow furrowed, but I stuck the feather in the band of my hat, and continued on.

I seemed intent to ignore any signs the universe may be putting forth.

I continued through the park, past couples having a romantic walk, past old men watching as the city workers repaved a path, with umbrellas propped on their shoulders. One of these old men made a comment about how he would have lain the brick in a different pattern. I rolled my eyes. Old men seemed to know how to do everything better than the professionals who were currently doing it.

So deep in scornful thought towards this man was I that I simply didn't register the soft thud as I passed by, and the cries of alarm - calls for a medic. One of the old men - the one who had spoken or not, I am not sure - had just suffered a heart attack.

The universe seemed to scream to me to turn back. I did not hear. Rather, perhaps I didn't listen.

I was too focused on my objective, and my destination - a cafe, which presently came into view as I left the park behind me. It was fairly new. I had never visited it before, not that that made a difference, as I was still fairly new to the city. One thing I greatly appreciated about the city, however, was it's cafes. Nothing quite helped my mood like sitting alone in the back corner of a room, with my notebook in front of me. Surrounded by people, yet protected from interaction by the rules of polite society.

Yes, how I loved cafes. So, when a rather charming stranger approached me at a bar, asked to set up a date, and inquired as to where I'd like to meet, I suggested my home cafe.

It was he who had changed the plan. He who had suggested this new cafe, saying it was fairly near his apartment, and he'd never tried it before. What a time to try new things, he'd said, with new people. Well, ever since I'd left the countryside, every experience had been a fairly new one. I'd discovered that I actually liked trying new things, quite a bit even. So, I'd said yes.

And here I was, opening the crisply painted red door with it's gold bar handle and sparkling clean windows. The interior of the place was equally as clean, and quite busy. Not noisy at all, the ambient noise was soft and pleasant. Soft music played from a stage in the back where a single young man played clarinet. The counter was manned by one woman, who noticed me when I came in, and gave me a polite smile with closed lips. I smiled back equally politely, and scanned the room for my date.

It didn't take long to find him. Part of why I had agreed to this meeting was because of his appearance. Tall, with a long and gaunt face, dark eyes and dark hair. He looked slightly ghostly, but not inhuman - his eyes sparkled when he smiled, which he did now, when he spotted me. He waved me over to a little table in the middle of the cafe. Not my preferred location in a cafe, I always preferred a back corner facing the door. But, he let me take the seat that still allowed me to at least see the entryway, so I was content. He pulled the chair out for me like a proper gentleman.

"Ester, so good to see you." He said, and offered a gentile kiss on my hand. I was flattered, to say the least.

"And you, Henry. What a lovely little cafe this has turned out to be!"

"Indeed!" Henry agreed, taking his own seat across from me. "Strange that I'd heard nothing about it before now."

"Not so strange." I said, "It's very new."

"Ah, that's true. But I've lived not far from here for quite some time, and my neighbor is a very opinionated older woman - she has given me her thoughts on every new business for the past ten years."

I laughed, imagining him listening with patience to this woman as she let out her many opinions - especially since a few months ago, a new speakeasy had opened right next door to the shop Henry said he lived above. I could only imagine the noise was exquisite, and that his neighbor did not appreciate it.

"So she said nothing about this cafe, then?" I inquired, removing my hat and setting it next to the little saucer and silverware set at my place on the table.

"Not a thing." Said Henry, "Come to think, though, I haven't seen her in some time. I wonder if she's all right."

"I certainly hope so too, how else will you know what to think of this place?" I gestured to the cafe around us. Henry laughed, and whatever nerves he had seemed to display a moment ago regarding his neighbor vanished.

The lady who had just been occupying a station behind the counter presently came up to us with a notepad in hand. She gave us both the same polite smile she had given me when I entered, then said, "What can I get for the two of you?"

Henry looked down at the menu he had laid across his place setting, and pursed his lips. "Gosh, I hadn't even decided yet."

"And I haven't even looked at the menu!" I added, but then turned to the woman anyway. Her name tag read "Ruby", and her lips were a bright shade of red to match the name. Her uniform was pure white, but the trim was almost exactly the same shade of red. She was pretty, I added internally, but put that thought aside. I was on a date, after all. "Do you serve espresso drinks here, Miss Ruby?"

"We do indeed!" She replied cheerfully. "Do you have a favorite?"

"I'm partial to a cappuccino myself." I said, "Dry as you can."

"One dry-dry cappuccino, got it." She scribbled something on her notepad. "And for you, sir? Anything to drink?"

"I'll have a hot tea, please. Earl grey. And a danish, if you please."

"What flavor of danish?"

"Cherry, thank you." He handed her the menu.

As Ruby made her way back behind the counter, I smiled at Henry. "Ooh, good choice." I said.

"I must confess, I'm not entirely familiar with espresso terminology. I don't even know what a cappuccino is." He blushed as he made his confession. I was immediately charmed.

"It's a shot of coffee mixed with steamed milk." I said, "do you hear that noise?"

We both paused in our conversation as a hissing, bubbling noise broke through the ambience. Henry looked in the direction it came from - behind the counter was a gloriously complicated machine of black and gold metal, where Ruby stood with a tin pitcher in her hand, moving it up and down.

"Ah, is that how she steams the milk?" He asked, returning his gaze to me.

"Yes, fascinating contraption, isn't it?"

"I thought you said you were from the countryside." Henry raised an eyebrow. "How is it you're so up on all the most recent coffee gadgets?"

"True, I'm from the countryside." I admitted, "I used to live alone in a little cabin, in fact. But, that life was quite the opposite of comfortable for me. I'm a big fan of all the most recent technology, and since I've moved I've discovered I was basically torturing myself by fixing a pot of black coffee every morning. It was fine, sure, but espresso? That's nectar of the gods, right there."

"With how you're making it sound, I'm beginning to regret my order."

I laughed. "You may have a sip of mine." I offered, then paused. Behind the strong scent of fresh coffee, and the baked goods, I was beginning to detect a new odor. Sweet, but unpleasant. Rotten.

Strange, I thought, but ignored it. Perhaps it was a smell from the vents, or the back alley, or off the streets. Not a thing to be worried about.

Henry looked a tad concerned by my distractedness. "Everything alright, Ester?"

"Not a problem." I said with a reassuring smile. "So! You know I moved from the countryside, and you know I'm a writer. But I don't know much at all about you - apart from that you have a talkative elderly neighbor."

"Ah, well I don't what Mrs. Little to be the most memorable thing about me." Henry laughed again. I liked the sound of his laugh - warm, and deep, and contagious. "I'm a banker, I'm sure you can guess that by everything about the way I look and act."

"I had narrowed it down to banker, lawyer, or mortician." I teased and he laughed again.

"My cousin's a mortician, so that's a good guess!" He said. "But no, just a banker."

"Doesn't sound like you enjoy it too much."

"It certainly isn't the most exciting profession, no." Henry admitted, "I've more of a passion for working with people, but people aren't really interested in working with me."

"Perhaps it's how tall you are."

"Perhaps it's that I look like a mortician." Henry countered. "But the point is, my work isn't really how I define myself, unlike yourself. Being an author is something to take pride in. Being a banker... not as much."

"What do you take pride in, then?" I asked, leaning on my elbow.

"Before I get into that, will you excuse me for a moment?" He looked apologetic as he pushed his chair out from the table. "I need to use the facilities."

"Oh, of course. Take your time."

As he left, I took the opportunity to take a second look at the cafe surrounding me. It was as busy as it had been when I first entered - the clarinet music still soothing, the chatter still light and fairly quiet. I took out my notebook and began to observe the people around me. A man in the corner was reading a newspaper, with a dog laying at the side of his booth. The dog seemed to notice my gaze on him - a fine shepherd dog, his tail thumped a little when we made eye contact.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

For a moment, I thought I saw that he had three heads. In that same instance, it seemed the man in the booth took notice of me as well. The two of them, dog and master, stared at me for a moment. The smell of rot overtook me once again, this time it was impossible to ignore. I held my napkin over my nose, eyes watering, but I couldn't look away. The gentleman held eye contact with me, and slowly, the skin on his forehead began to ripple, warp, and shiver. It split in five places, and opened - eyes, black as night, stared at me, and I felt a chill run down my back.

Before I could rip my gaze away, it seemed that I had imagined it all, and everything was back to normal.

I looked down at my notebook, completely unsure what to write. I was still staring at it with empty eyes when Henry returned.

"Are you alright?" was the first thing he asked, no doubt sensing my discomfort at the harrowing scene I had just... witnessed? Imagined?

I knew not.

"I'm fine." I said, closing my notebook and smiling. "Just lost in thought."

"A new story concept, perhaps?" Henry lit up. "Won't you tell me a little bit about it? I'm very curious about your work."

"Now now - you said you would tell me about you, and your passions. We're not turning this into a conversation about me again."

"Ah, but you're so much more interesting than me! Nevertheless, I'll humor you."

As he said this, Ruby returned with a mug in each hand. She placed one, filled to the bring with a fine foam, in front of me. The other she placed in front of Henry. "I'll be back with your danish in just a moment, dear." She said to Henry. I looked up to thank her, and stopped short.

She had blood on her face. It had to be, didn't it? What had appeared to be lipstick before looks like blood now, wet and shiny. Could it just be that her lipstick was darker than I had previously thought? That it was smudged a little at the corners of her mouth? But when she smiled at me, I saw that her teeth were covered in the stuff, and a single drop spilled out from her lips and ran down her chin, leaving an obvious trail on its way.

My eyes went wide. She seemed to be ignorant to my horror - or, was she relishing it? I couldn't quite tell, for just as I opened my mouth to ask her about it, she turned and walked away.

I turned back to Henry, who seemed unfazed. Had he not seen...?

I looked back to the man in the booth. He seemed as unremarkable as ever. Between him and I was another table, where a mother and child sat. the mother faced me, but the child twisted in her seat to stare at me. Children often stare, so that in of itself was also unremarkable. But it was the fact that blood dripped from her mouth as well that stood out to me.

"Henry -" I said, but as I did, the mother sternly demanded the child turn around. She wiped her daughter's face with a napkin, and when the child looked at me again, her face was clean. She grinned at me with that little face, as though she knew - that I couldn't say anything at all.

"Ester, is something wrong? Really, you seem as though you've seen a ghost."

I shook my head. "I'm fine." I lied. How could he believe me if I said anything, anyways? Perhaps, even, it wasn't real at all. I had an active imagination, after all, my friends back home had always told me that they wondered if one day I wouldn't lose my mind.

I would take something for the nerves when I got home again. For now, I should just enjoy my date.

Ruby returned again now. She, too, appeared to have no blood on her face at all. Only blood-red lipstick, neatly applied. Not a smudge or drip in sight. She placed a dish with a danish in front of Henry.

"Anything else I can get for you two?" She said, smiling at us.

"I think that's all for now, thank you."

Ruby gave us a little nod before she left us alone again.

"I like to dance." Henry blurted out, seemingly unprompted before I remembered that I had been asking him about his personal interests just moments ago.

"Oh!" I said, "That's lovely. Are you any good?"

"Well, that depends on what you say 'good' is. I'm average, I'd say."

"Where do you dance?" I asked, "I've been looking for something to do on the weekends that doesn't involve being holed up at home working."

"Ah, there's a delightful little ballroom just down the street from here - the Emerald. Maybe you can join me there sometime?" He made the offer bashfully. I would have been charmed once again, were I not now on edge.

"I'd like that." I said, maintaining a level of composure. I was now mostly certain that anything I was seeing was a result of nerves - perhaps a sense of stress looming over me from the things I'd experienced on my walk over. Perhaps as I had thought before, the product of an overactive imagination born of sitting in the back of cafes and making up stories about people in my free time most days. I determined to ignore the situation until I had further proof towards any of these theories.

"Then it's a date!" Henry was still enjoying himself, at least, as he picked up his danish and took a big bite out of it. As he did, some of the filling was squeezed out the back, and a white-red glob landed on the plate with a splat. At first, I thought it was simply a drop of creamed cheese and cherry - but, as I looked closer, my stomach turned.

That was an eyeball! Unmistakably, an eyeball had slid out of his danish! It had to be, this time there was no mistaking it as I stared at it intently, making sure to mentally note every blood vein, the dead hollowness in it, and the way it rolled about for a second before settling. I felt sick to my stomach, bile rising in my throat -

And then I blinked

A cherry sat on the plate, not rolling about even a little bit. Some cream cheese dripped down the sides. But, it was simply a cherry. Nothing more, nothing less.

I could feel my heart pounding. The sour taste in my mouth was still there, the smell of rot was beginning to creep over me again. I took a shuddering breath, trying to calm myself, Henry was still focused primarily on eating the danish, remarking offhandedly that it was perhaps the best he had ever tasted. Nothing apparently seemed off to him at all.

And why should it? It was only a cherry danish.

Then why... why did I feel so certain...?

The smell didn't dissipate. Neither did the turning of my stomach. I had to do something to distract myself, I thought. Perhaps my coffee...

I picked up the sugar dish, and heaped a spoonful, dumping it into my coffee. As I stirred, I noticed something had caught in the foam. A lump of sugar, perhaps? But it was moving.

Goddammit.

Against my better judgement, I turned my attention to the sugar bowl, lifting the lid again and peering inside.

Not a single grain of sugar awaited me.

It was full of squirming.

Slimy.

Maggots.

I screamed, and jumped up from the table. My coffee and the dish of maggots both flipped, spilling out onto the ground. Ruby looked up from behind the counter, immediately rushing around towards me, her features writ over with not anger or annoyance, but concern. I felt silly immediately, as Henry jumped back to avoid the dripping.

"I'm so sorry." I said, and grabbed my napkin from off the table, bending down to clean up my mess.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it." Said Ruby, and she ducked under the table as well.

"No, no, I won't let you get it alone, I -" I froze. As I looked up to apologize further, I saw that Ruby wasn't concerned with the mess at all. She was concerned with me. And she...

She wasn't human. That much was finally completely clear. Where her lips had dripped blood delicately before, now her entire chin was coated, as if she had buried her face in the stuff. Her eyes glittered with some sort of emotion - glee? - and I felt my heart stop.

"Don't react." She said softly. Her voice was the same as before, polite and cheerful. "You'll bring them down upon you both if you do. They've already been watching you - noticing that you are watching them. You have their attention, but if you move too quickly, you'll have more than that."

I struggled to find any words. "What are they? What are you?"

"Never mind that. You have more pressing matters to worry about." More blood gushed from between her lips as her smile grew. "You have a choice to make."

"What do you mean?"

"We need one of you. Just one, mind you, but one nonetheless." She gestured towards Henry's feet, which were just peeking under the table. "One of you can leave. Tell him to go. Or leave yourself. The choice is entirely yours - he can't see us. He can't hear us. It's up to you whether he lives or dies."

"Wait a moment -"

"No, they're getting restless. If you don't choose now, it'll be both of you." Ruby finished mopping up the coffee spill, "Be quick about it, all right?"

She stood up, and I did the same. As I did, I noticed that whatever had kept me from seeing things as they were had dissipated. The sweet rotten smell was prevalent. I saw the man with many eyes, and his dog, which certainly had three heads. I saw the child, who had her own hand stuffed in her mouth, both hand and mouth coated in blood and drool. I turned and saw the clarinet player, whose fingers moved nimbly - so nimbly and fluidly, I wondered that they had any joints at all, before I noticed that indeed they didn't. More like the limbs of a squid were they, wobbling about. I daren't look at his face, though I felt his eyes on me.

I felt all their eyes on me. Every single one - the man, the dog, the child, the mother, the musician, every other patron - was watching me.

I had to make a decision, and I had to make it fast.

"Henry," I said, slowly, "I'm sorry, but I have to go home."

Henry looked concerned, though not nearly as concerned as I felt.

"Is everything alright?"

"I'm just coming down with something, I think." I assured him, opening my purse and setting down the money for my tab. "It's not you, I promise, I just think I need to go lay down."

"That's alright, then." He said, still worried for me. Poor thing. "Can I walk you home?"

"That won't be necessary." I almost snapped at him, "I'll be fine."

"Then... Friday, will you meet me at the Emerald? For a dance?"

"Sure, sure, fine." I said, grabbing my hat off the table. All eyes followed me as I shuffled past Henry towards the door. "That'll be great. Look, I'll see you later, ok?"

The last I saw of him was his hand, outstretched to stop me, as I quickly made my way out the door. It swung shut behind me, and I had barely made it a couple steps before I heard it -

The most awful, awful scream. It was like I was hearing a soul leave a body, the most desperate sound I had ever heard. It went on far too long. As it trailed off, against my better instincts, I spun around to look the way I had come.

The pristine red door was shut again. The windows were still sparkling clean, and behind them was an almost picturesque scene - a man sitting with his back to the door, his dog loyally at his side. A mother and child sharing breakfast. A man playing the clarinet. The only thing that caught my eye was the waitress with bright red lipstick, ducking into the kitchen behind the counter. She was dragging something with her - something I swear about a head taller just a few seconds ago, before the scream. Ah, I saw it now - the head was, in fact, completely missing.

My stomach turned again, and I quickly turned away.

I made my way home, without another thought. I didn't *let* myself have another thought.

************

Two weeks later, I made my way towards that familiar cafe. In the weeks that had passed, I had wondered many times about everything that had happened on that date. I had wondered if I had imagined everything. But, when I had gone to the Emerald three days later, I had gone alone. Though I had gone through with my intention to enjoy my time there, enjoy the music, enjoy the dancing - the absence of my formal date had weighed on my mind the entire evening.

It had weighed heavily enough that the next day I had gone back to the cafe.

And a few days later, I had gone again.

And then again a few days after that.

None of these visits had yielded any answers. In fact, none of them had yielded anything more than a nice cup of coffee and a friendly interaction with a waitress.

I don't know what else I expected.

As I entered today, things were no different. Ruby was behind the counter, and as she saw me walking in, she preemptively jumped to the espresso machine. The man and the dog whose name I had learned was Sebastian also looked up when I walked in. The dog stood, stretched, and trotted over to me, nudging my hand.

"Hello there, old boy." I said. The man watched me as I gave Sebastian a pet, but he made no move to talk to me. I had learned he wasn't much for conversation.

The mother and her child ignored my presence completely, and the clarinet player only inclined his head slightly. Everyone seemed content to go about their business, and let me go about mine. The only person that acknowledged me was Ruby herself.

"The usual, Ester?" She said with a smile.

"Yes please." I took a seat at the bar.

"Working on anything new?" She said, raising her voice to make polite conversation over the noise of the milk-steaming.

"I have a couple things going, yes."

"Well, I can't wait to see them in the papers." She poured my coffee into a paper cup with a flourish, grabbed a napkin from under the counter, and handed both to me with a smile that barely flashed pointed teeth. For a moment, I thought I could smell that sickeningly sweet smell again. But it passed in a flash.

"You'll have to tell me how you like it." I said, and got off the bar-stool, moving to leave. Ruby stopped me.

"Won't you stay sometime?" She said, "I think you'd like it here. I think you'd really fit in."

The insinuation gripped me like a vice. I looked around the cafe - still, nobody paid me any mind, but I couldn't help but remember what they were all hiding from me. To say that I was anything like... that...

"Ruby, with all due respect, I couldn't disagree more." I said, "I enjoy your coffee, and a bit of polite conversation. But to stay would mean..."

"To stay would mean accepting something about yourself I don't think you're ready for yet." Ruby leaned in. "Didn't you wonder? Didn't you wonder why you could see us, and he couldn't? Didn't that seem strange to you for even a second?"

"Miss Ruby, I don't like what you're implying." I said sharply, "I like your coffee, and I like you just fine too." I reiterated my points again, "But I'm not like you. And I'm not staying."

I took my coffee and started to leave. I heard Ruby behind me.

"Suit yourself, dear."

And I shut the door behind me.

As I made my way down the street, I unfolded the napkin she had handed me. I was startled to see it was covered in drawings - over and over, a pattern made out of detailed, well-drawn hands.

My shocked expression settled into an annoyed frown. So, that was it, was it? That's why she felt she could talk to me like that.

I was going to have to seriously reconsider patronizing that cafe.

In my hand I crushed the napkin to a ball, and tossed it into the gutter.

And as I made my way home through the park, it started to rain...