The Story of the Black Dogs

Chapter 1.1

     Charles jerked the wheel, swerving the truck in either direction. His screams sounded far away as the sound of rushing blood flooded his ears.

     But as he stared ahead, he found that the truck wasn't moving. Panic was replaced with confusion, and his screams died as Charles found that he was no longer on the dark narrow road, but rather in a lot bathed in the bright glow of the noonday sun. 

     *Tap *Tap *Tap

     Charles jumped at a small tapping sound beside him and turned to find the confused eyes of a stranger standing beside his truck.

     "You good there buddy." the stranger asked.

     Sweat trickled down Charles' forehead, and his knuckles had turned white from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. Despite this, Charles gave a nod as he tried to calm his ragged breathing.

     The stranger didn't look too convinced, but he shook his head and left anyway.

     Charles looked around at the lot, letting the familiar environment jog his memory.

     The familiar trucks. An old diner. The leaning truck lot sign.

     Now he remembered.

     He had arrived at his destination early that morning after traveling all day and night. After dropping off the load, he drove to a nearby truck stop where he had apparently fallen asleep behind the wheel.

     Charles leaned forward and rested his head on the steering wheel. He felt exhausted and the crazy nightmare didn't help any.

     Uneasiness began to creep into his mind at the thought of his nightmare, and chills ran down his spine as he remembered the snarls of that wicked creature. Charles stole a glance behind him, but he was met with nothing but his disheveled cabin.

     He knew it was crazy for a grown man like him to be shaken up by a nightmare, but it didn't change the fact that he no longer felt safe in the security of his truck.

     Looking up, Charles took notice of the building across the lot. The white brick building was small and unappealing. Moss was lodged in the groove of its bricks and dust covered its dingy windows. A red sign sat atop the building with white letters that spelled out Truck Stop and Diner.

     The place was an eyesore, but it still felt inviting to someone such as himself. When Charles opened the door, the outside air rushed inside the vehicle, tearing away the warmth and replacing it with icy cold. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Charles quickly made his way across the lot.

     *Ting

     Charles pushed open the door to the building; a tingling bell rang as it opened. Inside the building, he was greeted with the mild sound of chatter and the comforting smell of food. Gaudy red and white booths sat comfortably near the windows, and black and white photos adorned the walls. Tables were sparsely set in the middle of the diner and the checkered floors had a greasy sheen. Yet, this place wasn't so bad for an exhausted traveler like himself.

     Charles went and took a seat in one of the booths and picked up the laminated menu that sat atop the table. He felt a pang of hunger in his stomach as he scanned the variety of greasy fried foods and baked pies.

     He looked up once he heard the clacking of footsteps, seeing the middle-aged waitress before she arrived.

     She wore an old white and red striped dress as if she had stepped out of an old film; a black apron was wrapped around her flabby waist and a hairnet covered her thinning brown hair.

     "What can I do you for?" she said while looking at her notepad.

     Charles took a glance back at his menu. "I think I'll take the cheeseburger."

     "And would you like everything on that?" She asked

     Charles nodded. "Yeah"

     "And is it just the burger or the combo?"

     "Combo."

    "What to drink?" she asked while scribbling on the notepad.

     Charles shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Ya got sweet tea?"

     "Sure do." She said as she flipped closed the notepad. "We'll have it right out for you."

     Charles looked around at the small diner once the waitress had walked away. Few people were there. Just some fellows who were either chatting amongst themselves or scrolling through their phones. No one gave him so much as a glance. So did he feel this way? Why did he feel like he was being watched?