Erl is a young man from Voidview down on his luck, after a months long job search he finds himself working in small corner store called Crapola Convenience, trying not to let the odd customers drive him crazy.
Okay real story time, it was about a year into my employment, I had closing shift, me and Sparkplug (one of my favorite customers, a weird little cat type guy who came in and helped out most days, though he was never properly employed to my knowledge) had just finished wrangling Mrs. Boneshrew out the door, kid's actual name was just Sparks, I tried to pry into the origin of that nickname a couple times but he never wanted to divulge, anywho I gave him some airheads and sent him on his way. The sun slowly went down as I carried a trash bag over my shoulder out to the dumpster, the content of this bag consisted mostly of Kreeg's various corpses, this was long after witnessing its many deaths had driven me to drink, and just as long before they sent me to therapy.
When I went back inside I spent about 10 minutes preparing the store to close before I heard them, a small but assaulting quire of continuous terrified screams. I turned to the front door where I thought they were coming from and saw the source, 2 men running screaming to the door, fleeing from what appeared to be a tidal wave of white sandy tar, as they got closer an anxious feeling arose in my chest that I would have to interact with customers beyond work hours, but was quickly quelled by my memory of locking the door, it arose from the dead at the sound of them shattering through what used to be the door, which was promptly sealed with snow, as were the windows blocked out.
I walked over to the pile of men and glass that laid before my once mighty barrier against this very situation, "The store's closed man, you gotta leave." I said politely but firmly, John dealer (a lowlife rapscallion possibly homeless street rat with whom I attempted to never become aquatinted with despite his frequent visit to the store due to being Doug's Nephew) got up and gestured quite rudely to the newly barricaded exit,
"AND HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO THAT!?"
I cringed at his unfortunately familiar voice, I hated how accurate the descriptor of 'gargling gravel' was for him, but I understood his point "One moment please." I walked to the side door and attempted to open it, it had no give unfortunately, I assumed it was also blocked with snow. I returned to the front and saw that the other guy was up and breathing, it was Scratch, cool, what WASN'T cool was John reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket(? Cloak?) and pulling out Kreeg. I could feel myself cringe a little at the sight of it, and more at the sound, its voice was an unbearable monotone yell, truly torture on the ears.
"HIIII!"
I raised a hand to wave at it and gave it my well practiced customer service smile, "All the exits are blocked, so I suppose we're locked in until allat melts," I gestured in the general direction of the snow piled on the front of the store, "Funny," I made my way over and drew a little smile on the pile with my finger "Weather didn't call for a snow flood tonight." I finished "It was a cloud burst!" Scratch called out as he held a cold soda from the freezers up to his bruised head, "Just great," John started as he pulled a case of water off the bottom shelf and sat his useless druggy ass down on it "My van is probably fucked.." Kreeg hugged his leg and put his hand on its head. I pointed a finger at each of the folks that now occupied the store "Eenie, meenie, minee, you." My finger stopped pointed at Scratch."Since you're here help me clean up this glass."
"Yeah sure.." he replied as he set down the soda and started scooping it up with his bare hands while I went to the broom closet in the break room to get proper tools, it was starting to get cold, I hate the cold. It only took the two of us around 10 minutes to clean up the glass while Kreeg dug uselessly at the snow with her weird skinny fingers, (Despite only ever seeing them that one time, they're still a staple of my nightmares.) and John started moving shelves around (to my minimum wage dismay) to create a 'hovel' as he called it. The next few weeks were spent listening to the 3 trespassers exchange stories that you couldn't waterboard out of me, and John taking song requests to play on a ukulele he had on his person for whatever reason. Then the power went out. And it got really. Cold. I hate the fucking cold.
Kreeg (obnoxious little shit) screamed bloody murder and John lit a zippo, it clung to him like a scared puppy. Scratch and I constructed a fire pit from boxes of cigarettes, empty cereal boxes and other food trash, we broke open my lighter and wet it with the fluid from inside. John was about to toss the zippo inside when Scratch held up his hands frantically, "NO NEED MY FRIENDS! I GOT THIS!" He held out his hands and closed his eyes tight, he shook a little from the effort he was putting into absolutely nothing. It had become apparent from his rambling over the past few weeks that he genuinely believed he possessed magical powers, I looked to John to see he was already returning my gaze with a similar awkward frown strung across his gross crack-skinny face. He tossed in the lighter and the flames roared to life! Scratch stood up and took a small bow, I looked again at John and he did the same, the only thing breaking the silence was the sound of soft fabric on fabric as Kreeg clapped It's sweater covers hands.
The first week without power was probably the worst few days of my life at that point, I could no longer distract myself from the conversation going on around me by focusing on the buzz of the fluorescent lights. One morning around week 3 I awoke to see the fire was dwindling, I woke the others to help me find something to kindle it with, a few minutes into our search Kreeg shouted "UP THERE! A BOX OF HAMMER-O'S!!" And up the shelf it climbed to get it, and almost immediately fell, shattering its head and dying instantly. "Oh..." Scratch let out what I can only assume was a sympathetic pitty moan, John sighed and pat him on the back as he passed him by, "She's fine." He gruffed as he picked up the corpse by the leg and tossed it into the fire, bringing it suddenly back to life.
Scratch fell asleep early that night, not much to stay up for you when you're as hungry and bored as we were, John and I on the other hand, stayed up and watched the fire in silence that stayed unbroken for a few hours until John decided to ask me a question, "You always lived in VoidView?" His voice, for the first time that I heard, lost all its gravel. "Might as well have." I responded "Mm." His response felt more like a grunt of acknowledgement than a word, "Where you from then?" He asked after a moment of silence, "Fort Smith, but I don't remember anything about it, you?" I replied as I impulsively cracked my knuckles, "VoidView, born and raised." He sniffed deeply and I could hear the mucus shift in his sinuses. We didn't speak much more that night.
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In the coming weeks- Oh shit my break is over, long story short: We were in there for like 6-ish months until the snow melted, we ate Scratch (don't worry he's fine, we talked about it when he came in for smokes next and there's no hard feelings) and the door and all merchandise we consumed or burned came out of my salary. The register calls.
