Scary Stories to Tell in the Drive Thru

The Darkest Corner

There is a place, somewhere in the midwestern city of Chicago, Illinois. A place so dark, the concept of darkness itself has been snuffed out. In the largest freezer owned by those known for their frozen monstrosities is a corner, a corner consumed with the purest pitch black. Rumors say it is unsafe to stand in the same room as the darkness because from within that corner is an inhuman force that will tempt you, it will draw you in, and you will never be heard from again.

The first victim of this wretched frozen void was a fella named Donnie McDougal. Donnie was a cheerful man, always greeting with a smile, but beneath that smile was devious and treacherous intent. Despite all warnings to the contrary, warnings of quality loss, warnings of being made fun of by better restaurants with red-headed mascots, Donnie had decided that he must freeze the beef in his then famous hamburgers.

McDougal found a strange glee in the idea of being able to keep hamburger patties stuck in time, forever cursed in a cold and solid state. If this worked out the way he hoped, perhaps he could do the same with his enemies. There was a dark satisfaction to the image of a pigtail stuck in suspended animation. He wheeled his lackluster hamburger patties into the freezer, placed them in the back corner, turned around and said, "There it is team. This is just the sta-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

His screams were long and tortuous, as though his pain were frozen for an eternity of excruciating existence. A darkness unlike anything anyone had seen since the time of the Old Ones enveloped McDougal and his beef, swallowing his existence like a fry dipped into the existential void of madness. Dark ley lines, tentacles of frozen insanity, reached from the heart of the darkness, spreading its frozen evil to each and every freezer stuck inside one of Donnie's dark chapels of ice. He preferred calling them restaurants, but that word feels far too generous for the darkness that lies within.

Some of McDougal's cronies, shocked by the sudden supernatural force that had manifested before them, foolhardily chased their leader into the abyss. They were swallowed by the biting cold before their lungs could expel the sounds of their unimaginable terror. They too were lost.

Others took the opportunity to rise up the corporate ladder, continuing the cursed mission of frozen dread in the name of their late beloved leader. Still more knew McDougal was little more than a clown, whose ideas should be laughed away instead of embraced. They left the home of the darkest corner and spent their lives happily eating superior meals.

But a mystical force, no matter how utterly evil, cannot go ignored for long. Curiosity, greed, the hunger for power, there are many reasons that drove McDougal's men to further explore the phenomenon. Could they harness the power of the darkness and the cold? They put together a team, and they could not assemble fast enough. It was as though the darkness was calling to them, beckoning from the great deep that had appeared in that freezer. An addiction to feline curiosity.

The team tried ropes and chains, but all forms of safety equipment were swallowed and destroyed completely from the point of entry. They even tried freezing a guy first and then throwing him in just to see what happened. He suffered a similar fate, he was just cold a little earlier. The team had been fed to the darkness, succumbing to its immense force. The only man remaining was McDougal's old ally, Greg Imus.

Greg stood in the freezer, staring at the void, taunting its attempts at control.

"Feed me."

Had Greg said this to himself, alone in this freezer? No, that didn't make sense, he wasn't even hungry. Lunch was only an hour ago. Maybe he had simply imagined it.

"I require more."

It was clear that the darkness was speaking to Greg, calling on him to be a disciple of the frozen abyss. He kneeled before the void, "How can I serve you? Let me be the arbiter of your dark power."

"I need more. More than what we can find in this solidary location. In each of the dark chapels, I must be fed. My powers grow weak the further I am stretched. We must elevate my strength. I must feast," the voice was a rumble, locked solidly into an octave rarely heard in the mortal realm.

"How, my lord? How do you FEAST?" Greg was shivering, the cool of the freezer had turned his plump form a shivering shade of purple.

"Promise them the things they want. Promise them hope...no, even better, promise them happiness in the form of a meal. Then we will catch them, lure them in, and feast upon crushing their hope," the void spoke in the cadence of his old friend Donnie. It couldn't be him though, he had been the first frozen sacrifice.

To this day the forces of the chilly depths of despair continue to reach out, calling out to innocent passersby, hoping to lure them in with the promise of happiness. But remember behind that call is the despicable truth, waiting, cold and desolate. A horror rumbling like a billion empty stomachs calling out to feast upon the shattered hope of its victims.

When you hear that whisper, the devilish voice dancing on the wind past your ears, remember the truth. And while you may get away safely this time, you may even be granted a fleeting moment of joy, but the frozen depths are tainting that joy. Waiting just beyond that drive thru wall is the chilly darkness, calling your name, calling you near, and that voice......that voice is very, very hungry.