A detective has a run-in with an urban myth
The diner sat between the long, cracked highway and the rocky, forested hills. Its sign claimed it was home to the best burger in the north, but for more than twenty years, it had only been home to overgrown weeds and rodents.
“They say the old man went crazy after his wife died. Abandoned the diner to do Lord knows what,” my father would say as we drove by it. I had never seen the man, but I didn’t have to. The image of a greasy old man with bags under his crazy, red eyes played through my head.
I stepped over police tape and entered the building for the first time. I never thought I’d step foot inside; I had been dared to a few times but never had the guts. Now I had no choice. The child in me felt like the old man could be around any corner, ready to jump out and attack me. Each step I took was cautious, the checkerboard tiles were littered with broken bottles and animal droppings. The walls were decorated with art of happy families and breakfast, though now graffiti also covered them. Some tables still had menus laid open, covered in a thick layer of dust, so faded I could hardly make out the words. Red booth cushions held the indents of patrons long gone.
Red. The rest of the diner was drenched in it, from the splatters on the jukebox to the pool of blood dripping from the counter onto the bar stools. The girl’s body was splayed out over the marble, like she had fallen, like she was pushed. The knife in her chest pointed up to the same crack in the ceiling that her foggy eyes stared at.
“The boys found her like this,” the sheriff said. Two young kids sat outside, huddled under blankets while other officers comforted them. He looked at the body, brows furrowed. “She’s been missing for months.”
The girl’s fingers were pale, waxy, frostbitten, despite the warm summer weather. Even her lips were slightly blue.
“He killed his wife and stored her body in the freezer,” I muttered, thinking out loud.
“You see something?” the sheriff asked.
“Sorry, just a story my cousins would tell me when we were boys.” This building was steeped with legend.
“Focus.”
We ventured further into the diner, behind the counter. The door to the freezer was large, made of shiny metal. It was so heavy, it took both of us to pry it open.
It should’ve been warm, there had been no power for two decades and yet, we were blasted with cool air. The other side of the door was covered in scratches. Thousands, all at different heights. The sheriff met my eyes with fear for the first time; this girl wasn’t the only one.
The body was later taken away, but we stayed there, well into the night. No one ever came by though, not one sign of life besides vermin.
“Ya think maybe it was…?” the sheriff spoke as we sat in the cruiser, watching cars speed by on the highway. We were parked in front of the diner, where a rusted Cadillac used to sit sometimes.
“Myths do have some truth to them.”
