It was a dark and stormy night. I sat drinking a cup of coffee, taking this all in from my favorite diner at the edge of town. The neon signs outside flickered with each gust of wind and the rain pelted the glass window beside me. This was not a night I’d like to spend outside.
I was the only one in the diner besides the late night cook and two waitresses. The silence between us all was steady although not uncomfortable. As the night wore on a car’s headlights broke threw the darkness. I watched as the lights grew brighter. As the old car drove past the diner it began to pick up speed. All four of us were watching the car as it tore down the street. I was just beginning to wonder what the driver was doing when the car launched itself off the side of the road and into a ditch. One of the waitresses gasped and the other grabbed the wall phone and dialed 911. I watched the car to see if anyone would get out. The drivers door opened and the silhouette of a man stumbled out. He looked badly wounded and began to fumble his way towards the diner.
I stood up, wanting to help the man. But, something stopped me from going outside. As the man got closer we could see the blood glistening off his face. It was a gruesome sight. The cook, terrified, yelled at one of the waitresses to lock the door. I told him that he was mad if he thought I was going to let that injured man to stay out in the storm.
Yet, we all remained where we were. Watching and waiting. When the man reached the door he put a hand on the glass and screamed. In that moment lightning struck the neon sign outside and sparks flew in every direction. I blocked my eyes from the blinding light and when I was able to see again, the man was gone. All that was left, was one bloody hand print.