I still remember my first night shift at the Nighthawk Cafe, even ten years later it’s seared into my mind. I kept myself busy most of the night cleaning, straightening up the displays, and watching reruns of Criminal Minds on the small tv in the corner. Past midnight the only costumers I saw were the occasional night shift workers picking up office orders, or burnouts looking for a caffeine fix to keep them going. It was boring and lonely, but the pay was better than expected for the position. I’d asked my manager why the pay was so much more than day shift but all she’d say was that it was more important.
Around 3 in the morning was when I felt it for the first time, the feeling of being watched. At first I tried to dismiss it as nerves, being alone in the middle of the night could make most people a little paranoid. But as the minutes ticked on the feeling got stronger, like the eyes that followed me were getting closer. Along with that came a distinct rise in the stores temperature and the smell of burning. In a panic, I ran to the kitchen, thinking I might have left something in the oven in my sleep deprived state. When I entered the kitchen, I was greeted by an empty stove and a digital clock flashing the time, three thirty three a.m. That’s when I heard the bell to the front ring.
I hurried back out to the front to be greeted by my new customer. He was an average looking man in an entirely unaverage attire. He was dressed completely in black, from a black bowler hat and coat, to the black mirrored shades he wore despite the time. I gave him a smile and welcomed him in.
“Hello sir, what can I get for you tonight?”
The man stood silently, I thought he was reading the menu behind his dark glasses, when it occurred to me he might have been blind.
“We have espresso drinks, juices, smoothies. If you want we still have some pastries I could-“
The man raised one hand, as if to silence me, and I stopped short.
“It’s a lovely morning today, isn’t it?” He asked plainly.
Confused, I responded in kind, “Um, yes, I guess it is. The man grinned slightly and I felt a shiver run down my spine. There was something wrong about this man. “Anyways sir, is there something I could get you?”
“No.” The man said bluntly. “It’s not for me, my master always gets his morning latte from here.”
His master? I thought. Odd, but I supposed most of the people awake at this hour were likely a little strange.
“Your master?” I said, trying to make conversation. “Who’s he?”
The man chuckled, seemingly amused, “You know him, just as all mortals do.” He pointed a finger towards the ground. “He’s the big man downstairs, the devil as you’d know him.”
I felt a laugh rising in my throat, but it never came. With most people, I’d assume they were crazy, but with the certainty this man spoke with, I couldn’t help but doubt.
“Oh,” I said, trying to stay calm. “A bit of a trip for a coffee run.”
“Not during the witching hour.” The man answered matter o factly. “During that time, we can move swiftly between plains. And besides, my master much enjoys the coffee here.” He smirked again, and this time, a got a glimpse of eerily white, pointed teeth, almost as if they’d been filed to a point. This man was scary, but he didn’t appear to be a threat. Yet.
“Okay sir, so what would your master like to order?”
The man raised his brow slightly, as if a bit surprised. “You must be new here,” he said curtly. “The master’s order is usually the first thing they teach night employees.” He shrugged, reached up to his glasses. He brought them down enough to see his eyes, and I was struck by them. I can’t quite explain what I saw in those eyes, like some horrible unknowable truth was briefly shown to me. But in that moment, I understood, and I nodded to the man. “Right away sir.” I breathed, barely above a whisper. I went to work quickly, not making him wait. I brought the cup to man immediately when I finished. “One large sweet chili latte sir, I hope your master enjoys it.”
The man nodded and proceeded to walk away, when I had a sudden urge to call out to him.
“Abbadon.” He said suddenly, not turning around.
“What?” I murmured.
“My name. The new hires always ask. I’ll see you tomorrow Samantha.”
I nodded, and watched him leave, my mind in a daze. Until a realized, I wasn’t wearing my name tag today. The label printer was broken and I had to wait until tomorrow to get my name tags printed, so how did he know my name.
From that day, I never forgot Abbadon’s order, and over the years, we became good friends. Even when I died in 2020, he let me follow him on his nightly coffee runs. I like the new hire, I hope she sticks around longer than I did.
ValienSR t1_iugzjbg wrote
Reply to [WP] You are a barista in a 24 hour coffee shop. Every night at 3:33am a demon appears for the Dark Lord's latte. by WarturtleWitch
I still remember my first night shift at the Nighthawk Cafe, even ten years later it’s seared into my mind. I kept myself busy most of the night cleaning, straightening up the displays, and watching reruns of Criminal Minds on the small tv in the corner. Past midnight the only costumers I saw were the occasional night shift workers picking up office orders, or burnouts looking for a caffeine fix to keep them going. It was boring and lonely, but the pay was better than expected for the position. I’d asked my manager why the pay was so much more than day shift but all she’d say was that it was more important.
Around 3 in the morning was when I felt it for the first time, the feeling of being watched. At first I tried to dismiss it as nerves, being alone in the middle of the night could make most people a little paranoid. But as the minutes ticked on the feeling got stronger, like the eyes that followed me were getting closer. Along with that came a distinct rise in the stores temperature and the smell of burning. In a panic, I ran to the kitchen, thinking I might have left something in the oven in my sleep deprived state. When I entered the kitchen, I was greeted by an empty stove and a digital clock flashing the time, three thirty three a.m. That’s when I heard the bell to the front ring.
I hurried back out to the front to be greeted by my new customer. He was an average looking man in an entirely unaverage attire. He was dressed completely in black, from a black bowler hat and coat, to the black mirrored shades he wore despite the time. I gave him a smile and welcomed him in.
“Hello sir, what can I get for you tonight?”
The man stood silently, I thought he was reading the menu behind his dark glasses, when it occurred to me he might have been blind.
“We have espresso drinks, juices, smoothies. If you want we still have some pastries I could-“
The man raised one hand, as if to silence me, and I stopped short.
“It’s a lovely morning today, isn’t it?” He asked plainly.
Confused, I responded in kind, “Um, yes, I guess it is. The man grinned slightly and I felt a shiver run down my spine. There was something wrong about this man. “Anyways sir, is there something I could get you?”
“No.” The man said bluntly. “It’s not for me, my master always gets his morning latte from here.” His master? I thought. Odd, but I supposed most of the people awake at this hour were likely a little strange. “Your master?” I said, trying to make conversation. “Who’s he?” The man chuckled, seemingly amused, “You know him, just as all mortals do.” He pointed a finger towards the ground. “He’s the big man downstairs, the devil as you’d know him.” I felt a laugh rising in my throat, but it never came. With most people, I’d assume they were crazy, but with the certainty this man spoke with, I couldn’t help but doubt. “Oh,” I said, trying to stay calm. “A bit of a trip for a coffee run.” “Not during the witching hour.” The man answered matter o factly. “During that time, we can move swiftly between plains. And besides, my master much enjoys the coffee here.” He smirked again, and this time, a got a glimpse of eerily white, pointed teeth, almost as if they’d been filed to a point. This man was scary, but he didn’t appear to be a threat. Yet. “Okay sir, so what would your master like to order?” The man raised his brow slightly, as if a bit surprised. “You must be new here,” he said curtly. “The master’s order is usually the first thing they teach night employees.” He shrugged, reached up to his glasses. He brought them down enough to see his eyes, and I was struck by them. I can’t quite explain what I saw in those eyes, like some horrible unknowable truth was briefly shown to me. But in that moment, I understood, and I nodded to the man. “Right away sir.” I breathed, barely above a whisper. I went to work quickly, not making him wait. I brought the cup to man immediately when I finished. “One large sweet chili latte sir, I hope your master enjoys it.” The man nodded and proceeded to walk away, when I had a sudden urge to call out to him. “Abbadon.” He said suddenly, not turning around. “What?” I murmured. “My name. The new hires always ask. I’ll see you tomorrow Samantha.” I nodded, and watched him leave, my mind in a daze. Until a realized, I wasn’t wearing my name tag today. The label printer was broken and I had to wait until tomorrow to get my name tags printed, so how did he know my name.
From that day, I never forgot Abbadon’s order, and over the years, we became good friends. Even when I died in 2020, he let me follow him on his nightly coffee runs. I like the new hire, I hope she sticks around longer than I did.