The Gas Station

I remember that day like it was yesterday. Hell…how could I ever forget? I couldn’t. I knew I never would.

Because that day changed everything for me.

I remember pulling up to the gas station in my beat-up 2018 red Toyota Camry. My fuel tank had been blinking Empty for the past couple of miles, so I figured I’d better stop. A light drizzle had begun falling, cool against my windshield. Not enough to drench me, but enough to be annoying.

Luckily, I was coming up on a 24/7 gas station. I pulled up to a pump, got out, and headed inside.

It was around two in the morning. I knew the place was dead because I was the only car in the parking lot. But the inside looked even emptier.

There was one clerk behind the counter, completely absorbed in whatever he was watching on his phone. I cleared my throat loudly to get his attention.

“Uh, can I get twenty bucks on pump one, please?”

The man didn’t look up. His five-o’clock shadow made him look like he hadn’t shaved in days, and dark bags sagged beneath his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in years.

Maybe he hadn’t.

I handed him a crumpled twenty. He put it in the register and nodded once.

As I turned to leave, something caught my eye. A magazine sat on a display near the front of the store.

I stopped.

It was about Magical Pink Girls, an anime I loved. The show followed a group of girls who discovered they had magical abilities and used them to save people. Despite the ridiculous-sounding title, it had incredible characters and surprisingly good world-building.

I’d watched almost every anime I could get my hands on, but Magical Pink Girls was different. It was my favorite anime in the whole world, and it was getting me through the rough time I was having now; getting divorced from my first wife, who I’d been deeply in love with.

I glanced at the cashier, then back at the magazine.

For a second, I considered stealing it.

Then I sighed and pulled a five-dollar bill from my pocket.

“I’ll take this, please.”

The cashier finally looked up. One bushy eyebrow rose.

“It’s for my niece,” I lied.

He stared at me for a little too long before ringing it up. I quickly snatched the magazine from his hand.

“Oh! Is that Magical Pink Girls?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin.

I turned around and realized a woman was standing behind me. I could have sworn I was the only customer in the store.

She looked about twenty-three, a little younger than me. Strawberry-blonde curls framed her face, and she wore a pink sweater with jeans. Her wide smile showed a row of perfectly white teeth.

“Yeah,” I stammered. “I-I’m buying it for my niece. She really likes the show.”

“You don’t watch it?”

“No. My niece does.”

She frowned playfully.

“Aw. I was hoping you liked it too. I bet your niece loves Kimiko, though, right?”

“Yeah! I mean—yeah, she’s awesome. Especially the way she uses her powers to save everyone.”

The woman giggled.

“Relax. People our age are allowed to watch stuff like that.”

She started walking away.

Something about her made me want to stop her.

“Wait!”

She turned.

“How about I get us something to drink? We could talk about the show for a while. Do you like beer?”

Her smile widened.

“Really? Yeah. Beer sounds great. We can sit by the window and watch the rain.”

My heart pounded.

A beautiful girl had just appeared out of nowhere, and somehow we already had something in common.

Today was the best day of my fucking life.

“Oh, I didn’t catch your name,” I said. “I’m David.”

“Desirae.”

We shook hands.

I hurried over to the beer section, bought two, and practically threw the cash at the cashier before returning to the table.

Desirae smiled as I handed her one.

I cracked mine open.

“Cheers. To Magical Pink Girls.”

“Cheers.”

For the next hour, we talked about our favorite characters, episodes, and theories. I hadn’t realized how much time had passed until I checked my watch.

It was now 3:30 a.m.

I was exhausted.

“Well, Desirae, it’s been really nice talking to you. I’d love to hang out again, but I’ve got to get home. I have a meeting with my divorce lawyer in the morning.”

Her smile disappeared, “Aww. Do you really have to go?”

“I really do. I’ll give you my number, though.”

She stared at me.

“Please, David. Can’t you stay a little longer?”

Something about the way she said it made me feel guilty, “I’m sorry. I really can’t.”

I stood and headed toward the door.

I pulled the handle.

Nothing.

I pulled again.

The door didn’t move.

“What the hell?”

I tried harder, but it wouldn’t budge. Annoyed, I turned toward the cashier, but he was gone. His cell phone was still sitting on the counter. I stared at it.

When did he leave?

I hadn’t heard the door open. I hadn’t heard footsteps. I hadn’t even seen him move.

“Uh, hello?”

Nothing.

I looked around the store.

“Is someone there? The door won’t open.”

“Having trouble with the door?”

I spun around.

Desirae stood behind me.

“Y-yeah. I think the cashier accidentally locked us inside.”

“I guess so,” she said casually. “I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Damnit.”

I walked toward the back of the store, searching for another exit. There wasn’t one. There were only two restrooms and a storage area.

“Guess we’re stuck here until morning,” Desirae said.

“Guess so. You want another beer?” I asked, sounding defeated.

“No. I can’t be stuck here all night. I have to meet my divorce lawyer in the morning.”

“David, relax.”

Her voice was soft. Almost soothing, “It’s pouring outside. Your lawyer will understand if you got stranded somewhere. Just have another drink. We can get some food.”

I took a few deep breaths. She was right.

What else could I do anyways?

“Fine, sounds good to me.”

We walked through the aisles, picking out snacks. I grabbed a lukewarm pizza from the warmer while Desirae chose chips. That’s when I noticed something strange.

Every reflective surface showed Desirae.

The metal hot-dog rack.

The sunglasses display.

The glass refrigerator doors.

She was always there.

But whenever I turned around, she wasn’t behind me. She was somewhere else. She was either across the store, or at the opposite aisle.

I stopped in front of a small mirror attached to a shelf.

Desirae stood directly behind me in the reflection. I whirled around. She wasn’t there.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

“What the fuck…”

I sat beside her and tried to pretend everything was normal.

Outside, the rain intensified. Thunder rolled across the sky, making me jump occasionally.

Then, it was 4:30 a.m.

“Damn,” I muttered, “It’s really late.”

“Better than being alone at home during a thunderstorm,” Desirae said.

I gave her a half-smile, “Yeah. I guess.”

We talked for another hour. But, the longer I stayed in the gas station, the stranger everything became. Desirae never seemed tired. If anything, she became more energetic as the night dragged on.

Then I noticed something else.

The same song had been playing over the speakers. Over and over. It sounded like an old romantic song from the 1950s. At first, I assumed I hadn’t noticed the repetition. But, after hearing the exact same verse for what felt like the tenth time, I knew something was wrong.

I looked toward the ceiling speakers. The song restarted. It was always the same one. The exact same song, and the exact same lyrics.

5:00 a.m. rolled around.

Absentmindedly, I picked up the Magical Pink Girls magazine again. Something on the cover caught my attention. I squinted.

The date read:

1950.

I stared at it, and my stomach twisted. That was impossible. Magical Pink Girls hadn’t even existed until 2025. I rubbed my eyes and looked again:

1950.

I slowly lowered the magazine. When I looked at Desirae again, my blood ran cold. Because when I looked at her, really looked at her, I noticed her eyes were completely black.

Not dark brown.

Not an unusual shade of blue.

Black.

There was no visible iris at all. Just two pools of endless darkness. A cold shiver traveled down my spine.

“What’s wrong, David?” she asked.

“I-I’m fine.”

“You seem scared.”

I swallowed, “Has anyone ever told you that your eyes are…different?”

She tilted her head, “Different how?”

“They’re completely black.”

She smiled, “Unique, right?”

I forced myself to smile back, “Yeah. You can say that.”

I wanted to leave. More than anything. But the door was still locked. The storm was still pounding against the windows, and I couldn’t find another exit.

Eventually, Desirae suggested we get some sleep. I let her take the storage closet since there was enough room for her to lie down. I pulled several plastic chairs together and made a makeshift bed.

It was horribly uncomfortable.

Outside, rain hammered against the windows. Water covered the parking lot, turning the world beyond the glass into a blurry black void. I couldn’t sleep. I lay there listening to the rain and the endless hum of the fluorescent lights.

Then something moved in the corner of the store.

I sat up.

At first, I thought it was a display. But, the longer I stared, the more I realized it was a person.

Desirae.

She stood motionless in the darkness.

“Desirae?”

“Go back to sleep, David.”

Her voice came from somewhere close by.

I scrambled off the chairs, “Where are you?”

No answer. I scanned the store.

She wasn’t in the corner anymore.

“Desirae, you’re freaking me out. I’m calling the police!”

I grabbed my phone, even knowing it was dead.

Then her voice came from behind me, “No, you won’t.”

I froze.

“I know your phone is dead, David.”

I turned. She was standing there. Her eyes were no longer black. They were crimson.

Bright, unnatural crimson.

She smiled, “Please,” she whispered. “Just go back to sleep.”

Then, in a flash, she lunged.

I screamed as she slammed me onto the floor. Suddenly, her teeth sank into my neck. Pain exploded through my body. I felt flesh tear beneath her bite as blood soaked my shirt. Desperately, I tried to shove her away, but she was impossibly strong.

Claws—not fingernails, but claws—raked across my chest, my arms, my face. I screamed until my voice cracked. The world narrowed to blood, pain, and the sound of her feeding.

I don’t remember how long it lasted.

I only remember the sun coming up.

The rain stopped around six in the morning. The fluorescent lights flickered.

Then everything went dark.

When I opened my eyes again, paramedics were standing over me. I was barely alive. The doctors told me I had severe lacerations and bruising across nearly my entire body. I underwent several surgeries. When I finally saw myself in a mirror, I didn’t recognize the person staring back.

I wasn’t the same man anymore. I was wounded.

Scarred. Different.

But I knew what had happened.

When the police interviewed me, I told them everything. I told them about Desirae, about the cashier. I told them about the locked doors, the repeating song, and the magazine dated 1950. Most importantly, I told them where the gas station was.

They searched the area.

They couldn’t find it.

There wasn’t supposed to be a gas station there.

But I know what I saw.

Because every night, at exactly 2:30 a.m., I can still see it.

The empty parking lot.

The rain pouring against the windows.

The same song playing over and over.

And her.

Standing inside.

Waiting for me.

Her bright, demonic, crimson eyes staring through the glass.

Waiting for me to come back.