Horror Shop

A Halloween Night to Remember

The Ugly Dog Coffee Shop was quiet on Halloween night, or so Clarence thought.

Photo by Hulki Okan Tabak

The employee photos had been Clarence’s idea. A way to create a community at the Ugly Dog Coffee Shop and give customers a more personable experience.

The wall became a form of expression for the employees. The employees selected their photos, added trinkets on a narrow table placed against the wall, all sharing a bit about themselves. A picture of a pet cat, a small model train. Even Henry, the newest barista, put up a photo of his foam art.

Clarence found the bust at a flea market. The fall season crisped the air. He thought the bust brought a kind of spooky Gothic atmosphere to the coffee shop. He placed it on the table between a knitted dinosaur and model train. The chiseled bust faced the cash registers. Its stone waves brushed the tops of his ears. The piercing gaze followed you around the room, a kind of glint in his eye like he knows a secret.

Clarence worked the late shift with Henry. He had trained the new barista over the last week and enjoyed their shifts together. Henry had worked at a coffee shop before and was quick to pick up tasks. No fuss. No nonsense.

They studied the bust after waiting around for over twenty minutes for a customer. Henry leaned on the counter while Clarence attempted to inventory the non dairy options in the fridge. With a grunt, he stood up and cupped his hand over his lower back. He used to be able to leap across the basketball court, but now he couldn’t even crouch over a mini fridge.

“I like it,” Henry shrugged. “We could give him a name and he could be our mascot.”

“Beast is our mascot.” Clarence jutted his thumb at the mural painted on the opposite wall. The bull dog glowered down at the dining area, a strand of drool hanging from its bottom lip.

Henry ran the tips of his fingers over his thick mustache. “Employee of the month, then?”

“That thing isn’t sticking around for another week. Halloween is over tonight. We’re onto turkeys and cornucopias tomorrow.” Clarence exhaled sharply as he lowered his over six foot tall frame to the list taped to the fridge and noted down the purchases he would need to make by the end of the week.

“Too bad.” Henry retrieved the mop and a bucket of cleaning supplies from behind the counter. “I think it gives the place more character.” He maneuvered the supplies around the tables to the bathroom. On his way, he gave the bust a pat on the head.

While Henry cleaned the bathroom, Clarence moved on from inventory to dishes. He dried ceramic mugs and piled them on their shelves. Behind him, the door chimed.

“Welcome to Ugly Dog Coffee Shop. What can I — ” Clarence turned and stopped.

The dining area was empty.

“Henry?” Clarence craned his neck to peer down the hall to the bathroom. The new guy must have gone outside to take the bathroom trash out or something. Clarence hadn’t shown him the dumpster out back yet.

“Yeah?” Henry poked his head out the half closed bathroom door.

Silence crowded Clarence’s ears. The background music had stopped playing, but he hadn’t noticed when.

“You good?” His voice echoed in the empty space.

“Yeah.” Henry rejoined, a rag draped over his shoulder. “What’s up?”

The lights shut off, leaving only the orange glow of the street lamps outside to cast long shadows. Henry stared wide-eyed at him from the other side of the counter. Clarence’s breath stuck in his throat. Before his eyes could adjust to the dimness, the lights and music returned. Soft jazz filled the space. The fluorescent overhead illuminated the empty tables and chairs of the dining area. All normal, but Clarence couldn’t shake the chill that had overtaken him.

“Whoa.” Henry pointed to the other end of the cafe.

Clarence looked over his shoulder and the slippery mug crashed on the tiled floor.

The wall was lined with a booth, the mural of the Ugly Dog mascot painted above. The chairs opposite the booth were piled on top of the tables. Legs balanced on the narrow backs of chairs three high, held up by some gravity-defying power.

“Anything like this happen before?” Henry inched closer to the counter, closer to Clarence.

Clarence could only shake his head in response, his gaze still fixed on the glowering eyes of the mural.

“Should I be worried?” Henry asked.

Clarence forced himself to look away from the chairs and turn to Henry. There was something different about the new barista. Like he had gotten a new haircut or changed his clothes in the time it took Clarence to study the unusual furniture behavior. Clarence stared. Henry frowned back and touched the top of his own head.

“Your hair…” Henry squinted and took a step closer.

It hit Clarence. Henry’s mustache had disappeared.

Henry examined Clarence closely. “Your hair didn’t have any gray before, did it?” he asked.

Clarence’s hand shot to his head, as if he could feel the color but the thought that he was going gray fleeted from his mind. “Shit!” he gasped. Right before his eyes, Henry’s right eyebrow vanished. “You’re losing your hair.”

“What?” Henry pulled at the hair on top of his head.

Clarence shook his head. “Your face.”

Henry ran his fingers over his bare upper lip. With the tips of his fingers still pressed above his lips, he pointed at Clarence with his free hand. “You’re aging!”

Clarence hurried around the counter. He followed close behind Henry to the bathroom. They squeezed inside together, flipped on the light, and stared at their reflection. Henry was right. Wrinkles appeared around his eyes. His jowls sagged. He touched the thinning skin of his face and discovered liver marks on the back of his hand. As he examined his reflection, his hair lightened to gray, then white, and finally began falling out, sprinkling the metal sink below like confetti.

Henry whimpered. All the hair on his face disappeared, including his eyelashes, giving him an alien look. The facial features on his right side began to droop. His eye slipped over his cheek, his ear down the slope of his neck. Henry chased his mouth down his chin with his fingers, his good left eye wide and panicked.

You’re going to be okay. The words were on Clarence’s lips, an empty comfort he felt obliged to provide, when the bathroom door slammed shut.

Henry moaned.

Clarence grabbed the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. He rammed against the door and cried out. His shoulder crumbled on impact, the brittle bones of an old man. Above them the lights flickered. The walls bent and warped. Pounding reverberated in the small space. Hands and faces pressed against the walls like they were made of a taut fabric. The mouths of the faces hung open. Phantom screams weighed down on them. The two men huddled in the middle of the bathroom. Clarence wrapped his good arm around Henry as they cowered from the pounding and pulled themselves in a tight ball to avoid the reaching hands.

The walls of the bathroom bore down on them, and then nothing.

Quiet. No thudding or screaming. The light hum of the bulb buzzed in the small space. Clarence and Henry stood up and untangled their limbs. Henry’s face returned to normal, down to his well groomed mustache. Clarence looked in the mirror. No more wrinkles. His shoulder mended.

“Hello?” a woman called from the cafe.

Henry tried the door. It was unlocked.

A woman and a small boy peered down the alcove.

“My son knocked over your statue,” the woman said. “I know it’s late, I just need a black coffee.”

“Of course.” Clarence’s customer service kicked in.

He maneuvered around Henry and exited the bathroom. The woman hurried back to the counter, dragging her son behind her. The boy stared at his feet, his face and ears red. Behind them, the bust that Clarence had bought at a flea market now lay in two pieces on the ground. Clarence stepped over it and took his position behind the counter.

“Sorry,” the boy mumbled.

Clarence smiled. “It’s all good. I didn’t like that thing too much anyway.” His gut quivered. He glanced at the mural and chairs. It had all returned to normal.

The woman held out a card. She looked over her shoulder at Henry as he gathered the broken pieces of the bust with trembling hands. She turned back to Clarence, an eyebrow raised.

She had caught them in the bathroom together. Clarence would laugh about it, if his heart wasn’t caught in his throat. The woman had no idea what was going on in that bathroom.

Henry dropped the pieces of the bust in the large trash can behind the counter. With his heart still thudding against his sternum, Clarence made her a fresh coffee and a hot chocolate for the boy. A extra treat, a token of appreciation for breaking the bust.

“What do you say,” the woman prompted her son.

“Thank you.” The kid’s grin stretched across his face.

“Have a nice night.” Clarence forced a smile as the mother and son exited the shop.

Alone again, the two baristas stared at the broken bust in the trash. Clarence didn’t want to touch the bag. Even in pieces, the stone eyes still bored into him. He shivered.

“Take that out, would you?” Clarence asked.

Henry pounced on the half empty trash, flinging the bag from its container. As he tied it, Clarence retrieved the pieces of the mug he had dropped the floor.

Clarence gestured to the back door. “Take it to the dumpster. I know it’s early, but we’re locking up when you get back.”

The two tidied and locked up in record time. Clarence’s breath caught in his throat when a song ended. The moments of quiet before the next one played stretched for ages. Clarence dug the keys out of his pocket, ready to run if the horror started again, but the next song played. He returned the keys and gathered the cash from the register. After securing the change, Clarence flicked off the lights and ushered Henry out the door.

The two walked side by side through the parking lot. They didn’t speak. Nothing about closing early or their evening plans. The scene in the bathroom played on repeat in Clarence’s head. He ran a hand over his face, feeling for wrinkles, but the skin was only rough because he hadn’t shaved that morning. The cool fall air lowered Clarence’s shoulders with each step he took. The more distance between him and the shattered bust seemed to help him calm down.

It was garbage day the next morning. The cursed thing, whatever it was, would be gone before he opened up again.

They stopped when they needed to part ways to get to their car. .

“See you for your next shift.” Clarence waved.

Henry looked over his shoulder at the coffee shop. His pasty complexion glowed sickly under the orange street lamps. When he turned back to Clarence, he shook his head. “I’m not coming back. Consider this my notice.”

I hope you enjoyed this Marredbury short story! Word of mouth is so powerful to indie authors. If you like this story and the Marredbury series, tell a friend or let me know in the comments below!

You can also check out the world of Marredbury for more spooky tales!

Go back to Episode 3 or Continue to Episode 5

Episode 5: Happy and Fortunate