“Hey Jerry, how has your evening been?”, I ask as I walk into the Flying W gas station I work at.

“Dead, man. Absolutely dead. I haven’t seen anyone in like two hours, man.”, Jerry said. I am pretty sure he is stoned again, but whatever.

I wander behind the counter, “If it has been that dead, then why don’t you take off. I got this.” Our shifts are supposed to over lap for an hour to cover the 11 to midnight rush but I was betting it wasn’t going to happen tonight.

“Duuuuuude! You rock!”, Jerry leapt over the counter and was gone. I am sure he would have been fired years ago, but he is always on time and the till always balances…. This place doesn’t set a very high bar for employee of the month if you know what I am saying.

Midnight came and went without a single customer. One am and two am came an went too. It was a very dead night.

Around two thirty the fog started to roll in. It was thick and low. It made the street lights into fuzzy orbs of floating light since the poles were hidden. The highway, just a couple hundred yards away, might as well have been on the moon. Only the occasional glow let me know that there were still cars going by.

I have been working the night shift for almost five years now. At first I thought the worst of it was the after the bar crowd or the crack heads but it is the witching hour when the crazy shit really happens. Between three and four am. If something is going to go down, that is when it is going to happen.

This fog felt ominous and put me on edge.

Three ten am. A vintage model-T Ford pulled into the station. I gawked. I had never seen one in such mint condition. It was a beauty. The driver was in period clothes too. Black felt top hat, driving goggles and a black suit, even spat shoes …. He went all out.

The driver got out and was walking towards the building when a second model-T came by, not slowing down I saw two Tommy guns sticking out the windows, they open fired, shredding the driver, as he fell to the ground he and cars disappeared.

I guess it was going to one of those nights.

Three twenty five am. A 1970 something half ton truck pulled in. The box was full of teen age kids, all dressed for the beach. Probably heading out to the old swimming hole off route 3….. which was paved over about a decade ago.

The kids piled out of the box of the truck and came into the store. They were all over the store picking phantom merchandise off of shelves that weren’t there any more while walking through the shelves that were there. They chatted among themselves, laughing and having fun. They paid in cash at a till that wasn’t there any more and then piled back in the box of the truck. The truck pulled out and was creamed by a semi going in the opposite direction. Bodies flew from the truck box and then disappeared as they hit the ground.

Three forty two am. “Give me all your money!”, he yelled, a sawed off shot gun in his hands.

“Easy man…. Easy.”, I said as I started to open the cash register. I saw a the barrel of a shot gun appear in my belly and let off a round. The would be robber went flying. I turned to see a young man with a Flying W t-shirt holding a gun. He must have been the cashier…. No clues as to when this robbery was. I got out of the ghost cashier’s way. He looked over the counter and got a shot gun blast to the face. He spun and hit the floor, disappearing along with the robber.

Three fifty five am. A couple came in. They were arguing. She went to get some chips and he asked for a package of cigarettes. I got the pack of cigs down from the display just in time to see her stab him in the neck. Blood squirted out and hit the door. His eyes bulged and he went down, she just kept on stabbing until they both disappeared. I put the cigs back into the display case.

Seven oh five am. The morning shift had arrived.

“Hey Stanley, how was your night?”, they asked as they came in.

“Oh it was pretty quite. Little excitement around three am or so but nothing too crazy.”, I replied.

That is a question that you hear from the local townsfolk of the village your truck broke down at. Apparently, something big happened at the small time gas station, but no one can tell you what. You don’t believe in ghosts, however, so you decide to investigate, as there is no one to stop you. You arrive at the station, ironically segregated from the rest of the village, to see the lights on, but no one there. You go to travel inside, but a man that was jogging nearby warns you that all is not what it seems. He was a decent looking guy, and he looked familiar. He continues jogging, and you continue your investigation. The door slides open as you arrive, which is odd because it isn’t a sliding door. The area is a bit foggy, with a tint of green - almost like how dry ice sits on the floor. Everything seems alright, nothing is rusty or mouldy or broken. It looks like it is in perfect condition. But why is it abandoned then? You haven’t seen a ghost. But if there is one, what kind of ghost is it? You look at the fridges in the back, and notice a column of sports drinks missing. Judging by the label, it is the same one you saw the jogger with. You jump as the building creaks with the wind, but you have an odd chill go down your spine, almost like you are being watched.

You go to enter the back, and to your surprise, it is unlocked. It looks like a lunch room, and someone seems to have been here not long ago, as there is food on the table, still warm. The chair is pulled out and the green mist seems to congregate at it. It looks like you can see a silouhette being formed sitting in the chair. Behind it, a cupboard is open, and inside is a barrel, slightly open. The warning signs on the side read “Caution - Experimental product: B-S10”. You decide to close the barrel properly, and pretend it is a highly valuable asset for fun while doing so, saying things like “approaching the target” etc etc. When you go to turn back around, the food is gone and the chair is under the table properly. Odd… very odd. You go to leave the building, and notice that what remains of the green mist is exiting through the front door. You go to leave, picking up a snack as you walk through an aisle. As you exit, you see the jogger again, staring at you. He waves and smiles as he fades away.

What sort of ghost would haunt a gas station? Well, let me tell you - a jogger

As you return to the village, you find what made the jogger so familiar. There is a statue of him with a plaque that reads — 1964 - 1997 May the light guide you as you guided us

I have unfinished business. And I am not leaving until I figure out what to do about it. I died here. At this dumpy little gas station. You may be wondering how I died. Well let me tell you, that is quite the story.

I stopped by this gas station for some reason, I can't remember exactly why... Oh right. I needed gas. And a I was filling up my car I went into the little shop to buy some bullshit for the trip. Some Slimjims. Some Salt and Vinegar potato chips. Just stuff you could grab and eat while you are in the car.

But then I saw it. The gas station sushi. It looked so delicious, and I love sushi. Something about raw fish that hasn't been cooked is just so delicious to me. I just had to grab it.

As I leave I am not even back in my car and I am already ripping off the lid and shoving the orange fish in my mouth. It is so fucking good by the time I am sitting in my car it is already almost empty and a minute later I am licking the plastic container clean.

And that is when I feel it. A gurgle in my stomach. And then a second gurgle in my ass. I run out of my car and dart to the gas station bathroom. I need a key, it won't open. I run inside and ask the guy at the counter but he says he can't help me, it is for employees only. I don't have time to argue so I just run back out and start kicking the door, I don't have time, ff I don't shit immediately, there is going to be a big issue. It's too late, the door won't budge, I run into the bushes next to the gas station and just explode all over. It is disgusting and the last thing I remember before becoming translucent.

I float around for a bit. My car is still parked at pump 4. I try to get in but I can't. I wonder how long it will stay here before someone comes and tows it away. I go inside and start yelling at the guy at the counter who wouldn't give me the bathroom key. He doesn't seem to hear me. I rub my dirty undead ass in his face. He crinkles his nose, I know he can smell my diarrhea that has stained my ass in the afterlife. I vow to never leave this gas station ever again and keep my shit covered ass in this guy's face.

Jim. Age 65, looks 70. Lived in a small rural town with one local gas station. It was a small convenience store with 2 gas pumps available. He has been a regular at this gas station for 40 years. Jim was truck Driver for Walmart. Smoked a pack of John Player Blue Kingsize cigarettes daily. He was 5’8” with salt and pepper hair and a scraggly grey beard with yellow stains. He always had a dreary facial expression, you can tell he was not phased by anything. However, if you really got talking to him, he was extremely opinionated when it comes to politics.

Jim drove a rusty 1989 Chevrolet Truck. He bought it brand new back then and has been changing the oil and doing the annual maintenance himself for over 20 years. Jim wasn’t a mechanic, he just didn’t want to pay anyone to do work on his truck because he was confident he could do it himself. You could never be sure if the truck would actually turn on when you turned the key in the ignition, and when you did, it made 2-4 ‘chugging’ noises before it got going.

Jim was smoking a cigarette when he was filling up his gas one day and blew up the local gas station. Jim was killed in the explosion.

The plot of land remained empty for about 5 years. During that time, there were 7 accidents reported. Each accident involved a Chevrolet Silverado. The accidents happened at night. They reported seeing an old Chevrolet truck stopped right in front of them as they were on their local highway. They said that it was too late by the time they even saw the break lights. Each truck spun out and rolled into the ditch right where the old gas station used to be. Even though each person reported seeing the same thing, there was no damage on their Chevrolet trucks that suggested another vehicle has been involved.

Finally, the small town started to become more industrial and modern over those five years leading to more businesses and opportunities for the locals to work. Circle K purchased the land and build a brand new gas station right where the old one once stood.

Now, those who have older Chevrolet trucks (trucks that existed while Jim was still alive) report having issues with their vehicles while they are at the new Circle K gas station, and they report having issues afterwards. After they fill up their gas, their trucks make awful chugging noises when they turn the key in the ignition. Some trucks don’t won’t start at all, they’ve had to tow trucks to the local mechanic many times. Once it’s there, it starts with no issues. Many have also reported that their engine oil had turned black just from getting gas there, even if they had it recently changed.

The town has grown quite quickly over 5 years, but the locals who have been there for a long time know exactly what’s going on… and they definitely won’t be getting a Chevrolet truck any time soon.

"Old man! Can I get a milkshake and a twinkie?"

"You know, I'm not so old; I'm only 22". The man chucked while opening the milkshake cabinet.

"It's on the house today, want a bag to go with that?"

"You know I never do old man." The girl said giggling and running out the store.

The girl was staring happily at her loot, and she looked up to see a stern and scaring looking man with intricate tattoos on his face coming out of a car, staring at her. The kid gulped, and slowed her pace while moving the other direction. The man turned to the store, and before he pulled the door; he looked back and glanced at the kid who was hiding behind a street sign, staring back. The man made an annoyed sound and entered the store after saying a little prayer.

NA NA, Hello welcome! The automated message said.

The man looked around before sighing and heading towards the register. He stared at the youth behind it, with the name tag of Reen.

"It's time, this world is not meant for beings of this nature." The Obligator said while looking around, examining what stands in front of him.

"It's time boy. It's been far too long, and I no longer wish to deal with your kind anymore." With a small rattle, fingers pushed out and the bag clicked, showing varies instruments and metals.

"My kind, huh? Well, I suppose we're obstacles." The young man, chuckling and scratching at his stubbles. He peered outside, feeling the sun wash over him while he stood behind the counter. Noting the destroyed land from a flood just a decade ago.

"Can I..." The young man paused, staring at the kid hiding behind the sign, staring back anxiously.

"Death came, but happiness and relief did not... Your way is not merciful, nor is it something the Lord Ruler would ever allow if he knew" Reen said with a tone of defiance, staring at the Obligator with harsh glowing eyes. Reen burning brass and forcing his will upon the Obligator. The Obligator realizing whats about to happen, but is quickly overwhelmed with fear and intense emotions.

"Young man, if this is your wish; so be it. There will be consequences, a ghost always turns.." The Obligator turned and walked towards the door, pushing against it. He paused and turned around.

"May the Lord Ruler look after you, and protect this land." The Obligator left, walking towards his car, looking at the girl running towards the store with a half drank milkshake and the second bar of the remaining twinkie. She stared at the old man, and stuck out her tongue and made a sound. She pushed open the door and entered.

NA NA, Hello welcome! The automated message said.

"Is he gone? is he leaving? Oh boy he was scary." The girl ran over nervously, jumping up at the counter to sit.

"My mom and Reen should be here soon to pick me up"

"Shes always late, I never like it." The girl said as she fixed her earings. "I'm glad you're here with me though". She took a bite of her twinkie, throwing the wrapper in the trash can.

...

NA NA, Hello welcome! The automated message said.

"Old man! Can I get a milkshake and a twinkie?"

"You know, I'm not so old; I'm only 22". The man chucked while opening the milkshake cabinet.

"It's on the house today, want a bag to go with that?"

"You know I never do old man." The girl said giggling and running out the store.

The girl was staring happily at her loot, looking up and running towards to the destroyed land, to play on the invisible swings.

​

"My kind, huh? Well, I suppose we're obstacles." The young man, chuckling and scratching at his stubble. "At least my kind has empathy for the departed, I'll stay here for as long as shes here, a brother always looks out for his little sister.

​

------------------

​

Man did I edit this and change the script 100x!

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

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

[removed]

My grandfather was not the brightest. He was a Scottish man, and he felt like no rules applied to him. He always managed to talk his way out of any situation. Reckless like a teenager and stubborn like a goat. If you dared to tell him that smoking two packs of Marlboro Red each day would kill him, he would dismiss you. You could not tell him where he could smoke, when he could smoke or what he could smoke. The only person he paid attention to was himself.

That was his demise, as he perished after setting himself on fire at a BP gas station. He died on the scene, and only his closest family attended the closed casket service. There were rumours that he committed suicide since no one would be that stupid. But I believe he would.

For centuries, ghosts have haunted our imagination. The afterlife remains a mystery that has yet to be solved. However, in the instance of my grandfather, I wonder if he is really a figment of my imagination.

Every time I go to fill up my motorcycle, I hear his heavy-accented voice in my head, mocking me for being a jerk and not following his path. A few close friends of mine told me the same, and in no time, the "smoker ghost of BP" made the local news. BP sales at that station began to plummet. No PR campaign was strong enough to save that station. BP hired some charlatans to try to get rid of his ghost. But apparently, the old man is still the same stubborn person.

[removed]

The apparition was terrible to behold. Its chest was filled with bullet wounds, which oozed monochromatic blood, and his face was contorted in pain. He floated over the foot of my bed, making terrible, gurgling gasps.

"You are not welcome," he wheezed. "Leave this place! I died here, and here I will stay!"

"The hell you did," I replied testily.

There was a long moment where the two of us stared at each other.

"I did so," he said finally, but the fire had gone out of him.

"During what? A costume party?" I pointed a shaking hand at his clothes. "Circa... what? 1920s?"

"1924," he admitted.

"OK," I said, "and this house is victorian-style. It was built in 2004, on previously undeveloped land. So you... what, drove out in the middle of the woods and got gunned-down?"

"No," he replied sullenly.

"OK then, where did you actually die?"

He sat there, oozing and gurgling, with a sour expression, for what seemed like several minutes. "Gas station," he muttered.

"Then why don't you go haunt the gas station?" I demanded.

"C'mon, fella," he replied. "What sort of ghost would haunt a gas station?"

[removed]

[removed]