Title: Balance in a Small Town Dinner.
Rating: R for violance, inappropriate language and possible religious insults. Read at your own risk. I am not responsible for how you take the contents of this story.
Blurb: This is something I wrote a little while back, posted to my main journal and meant to post here but forgot to. As the title suggests, it's about a man, well a "sort of man" who bring what he believes in balance to a group of people from a small town. It's tough to explain without giving it away, I suggest you read if you are interested.
The door to the diner opened and in stepped one of the oddest man you'd ever seen in these parts. He had long, black hair, a long black coat, and black leather boots. His skin, what you could see if it, was pale and taught across his bones. He was a tall, thin man, with a well established nose. He bowed his head at a slight angle, but his eyes stared sinisterly forward as he walked. He stepped in and up to the bar. He took a seat and stared ominously forward. The waitress, seemingly oblivious to the man's sinister appearance, walked up to him and asked, "What can I get ya hun?"
"A menu." The man said, in a mono-tonal voice. He didn't move a muscle as he spoke.
"Sure thing, be righ' back dear." The waitress walked away and came back, almost instantly, holding a laminated piece of paper. "Just give a hollar when you are ready k?"
"Indeed." The man said, lifting his head to make eye contact with the woman. The waitress stopped chewing her gum and stared for a moment, open mouthed. The man lowered his head to look at the menu, and the waitress quickly retreated to the kitchen.
In a booth behind the stranger, one of the local good ol' boys had seen this 'odd ball' walk in. And had decided that he should be the one to find out who the stranger was. He walked up to the bar and took a seat next to the stranger. "You ain't from 'round these parts, are ya son?"
"No." he answered plainly, never looking up from his menu.
"Where you from anyway boy? The city?"
"No." he answered again, this time turning his head to meet the good ol' boy's eyes. "I come from Hell. I was born in the fires of eternal damnation, and I was let out on 'bad behavior'" he said with a half smirk.
The good ol' boy now sat staring open mouthed, at this evil creature. The stranger's eyes had no iris to them. His pupils seemed to fade directly into the whites of his eyes, which were laden with over accentuated blood vessels. The stranger turned back to look at his menu. The good ol' boy, now white as a ghost, slowly stood and moved back to his booth.
"WAITRESS!" the stranger shouted, "I want a steak. Rare. And bring me a sharp knife to cut it with."
"Sure th- thing hu- hun..." the waitress shouted back.
The stranger pushed the menu aside and continued glaring forward. A friend of the shocked good ol' boy now stood, angry at the state this stranger had put is friend in. He walked up to the stranger and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Hey you got a name fool? Or should I just call you Casper." He chuckled to himself, not knowing he had just sealed his own fate.
The stranger, motionless, replied in his mono-tonal voice, "My name... you want to know my name... I suppose it's fitting you know, before you die. I am Hetrica. Son of the Fires of Hell. Evil in a more pure form than Satan himself. Never tainted by the likes of God." And with that, he grabbed the menu he had pushed away, and swung around faster than the eye could see. He sliced the man's throat with the corner of the menu, returning it to where he grabbed it from and returning to his previous motionless state. The man gasped for a gurgled breath. Then, realizing his throat has been slashed, clenched it with both hands. Blood seeped through his fingers as he dropped to his knees. Everyone in the diner looked on as the man fell to the floor, gurgling with each attempted breath. Choking on his own blood, the man slowed died on the diner floor. A pool of blood now formed around the man as it poured from his mouth and slit throat. Not a soul in the diner moved, for fear of what Hetrica would do.
The waitress and the cook in the kitchen, missed all the excitement. They had no idea what had just happened, only that it got oddly quiet. The waitress was first to come from the kitchen, bringing with her a barely cooked steak, fork and steak knife. The plate and utensils rattled as she nervously brought them out to the stranger. "Y- You sure you don't want anything with..." She stopped motionless in front of Hetrica when she saw the dead man on the floor. She dropped the plate, which oddly enough, landed perfectly in front of Hetrica. She gasped and ran back into the kitchen.
"No, the steak will do fine." Hetrica said, in a low voice as if he was talking to the steak and not the waitress. He grabbed the fork and knife with both hands. He forcibly thrust the fork into the bloody steak and began to slice it with the sharp knife. Cutting a decently sized piece off, he raised the fork to his mouth and began to chew. Just as he was swallowing his first bite, a couple that sat a the table closest to the door, slowly stood to leave. As if he had eyes in the back of his head, Hetrica whipped around in his seat and stared at the two of them sinisterly. "NO ONE IS TO MOVE UNTIL I FINISH MY FOOD!" he shouted. Paralyzed with fear, the couple collapsed back into their booth and did as they were told.
Everyone in the diner watched this demon devour his food. No one moved a muscle. When he was done, Hetrica pushed the plate away and said, "That was the best steak I have had in years. Now, for the business I came for. Fred here," he said pointing at the stiff on the floor, who's blood was now drying, "was a bit too cocky for his own good. He tried to get in my way and that cost him his life. An unforeseen casualty really. I should hope, there won't be any more." Everyone in the diner all shook their heads, almost in unison. "Good." he said, still staring forward, blankly, not facing anyone while talking. "I imagine that some of you may be wondering what a demon like myself is doing here. I'll tell you, it's simple really. Balance. This town is full of 'God Fearing' people. All doing what is 'right and just' and never giving a second thought to the more 'sinful pleasures' in life. Makes me sick really." Hetrica stood, turned and faced the diner door.
"There's 12 of you in this diner, not counting poor Fred. " he said as he pointed at the corpse. "You all wake up every morning, say your morning prayers and go to work on your farms, in your stores and whatever. You never look at each other in any way except neighborly. None of you ever glances at another and wonders, 'Man I wonder how big his cock is.' or 'I'll bet she's a minx in the sack.' because that would be *UNHOLY.* Well, first off, being unholy is human nature. It's natural for humans to be dirty little disgusting creatures. *He* doesn't want you to be like that be cause *He* 'created you in His own image.' Well guess what people, he just as dirty and disgusting as you. That's why you think that way. He doesn't want to be reminded of how bad he really is, so he asks that you don't do as he does. It's shocking really."
Without moving his head, Hetrica looked around the diner with his eyes and said, "Who here doesn't believe me? Who here thinks I'm full of shit?" No body moved. "Aw come on people. I just dashed all of your beliefs you've ever had. You can't tell me that all of you are blindly accepting what I've said... now raise your hand if you don't believe me."
The first brave soul to raise his hand was the cook. He was behind Hetrica, and thought he was safe behind the wall. "Ahh cooky. Glad to see you 'keeping the faith.'" And with that, Hetrica grabbed the salt shaker off the bar, and flung it faster than a bullet through the opening in the wall where orders came out, and at the cook. It pierced the cook's mouth and went straight through his head and lodged in the wall behind him. The cook's now dead, open mouthed face fell onto the hot grill with a blood curdling sizzle. "Balance people." Hetrica shouted, "I know what's in your heads. I know who still 'believes.' I'm here to send all of you who still 'believe' to meet Him." Hetrica said with a half smile. The remaining 11 people all made to flee. But an instantaneous flash paralyzed them all. Frozen in their places, they were helpless to save themselves from this purely evil creature. Hetrica, now facing the bar again, threw his head back and let out a scream that seemed to be the scream of all the damned souls in Hell.
Every movable object in the diner, now became a weapon. The waitress meet with demise at the hands of a glass half full of milk. It flew from the table of the couple who tried to leave, shattering into pieces in mid air and slicing into her head like shrapnel. Pieces of the glass and her skull were embedded in the wall behind her. Her brains were spattered on the wall like plaster thrown on to a smooth surface. A napkin holder flew at the woman from the couple and split her head open throwing blood and brains onto the window beside her. "You Bastard!" Her husband cried, but his plate made short work of beheading him shortly after he spoke. His body fell to the floor next to poor Fred's and added a fresh pool of blood to the diner floor. An old man, who was drinking a cup of coffee, found himself lifted into the air. His body started spinning like a top until it flew apart from the force. His arms and legs served to impale four others in the diner, throwing blood, flesh and shattered bone everywhere.
The mayhem seemed to have settled and left in the corner of the diner was a table with three youths. A 22 year old boy, his 20 year old sister and a teenage friend of his sister. Hetrica, now standing with his head slightly bowed again, moved over to the table where the three youngsters sat. "You three, you're not from this town are you." They all shook their heads at this vile individual. Hetrica sniffed the air above them, almost like a dog would sniff it's food before eating. "You're not one of 'them' either are you?" The three shook their heads again. Hetrica chuckled aloud, "Atheists. I can smell it on you like a stink on a skunk. You think you have it all figured out. That God doesn't exist, and if God doesn't exist than neither does Hell. Well, let me ask you something, if God and Hell do not exist, then where did I come from, huh?"
The youths all looked at each other, as if to confirm what they all were thinking. They looked back at the demon and the boy spoke, "No where. You don't exist. And if you don't exist, then you cannot do anything to harm us. We'll be leaving now." The three stood and began to make their way to the door. Hetrica picked up a fork and flung it at the boy. The fork fell to the ground just before it would've struck the boy. Hetrica let out a blood curdling scream, louder and more intense then the one before. The three youths left the diner, which was now nicely bathed on the inside with blood, got in their car and drove off down the highway. Hetrica, now left standing alone in the diner, regained his composure and bowed his head again. "Well, nine is better than none I always say. Off to the next Popsicle stand." He began to make his way towards the door, he stopped by the bar, swiped his finger across his plate that he had left on the counter, and tasted the blood that now covered it. "Ahh carnage. Better than any steak out there..."