the series of r/nosleep | volume one: the {smile} series

{S}tranger

I'm awake,

Flannel sheets. Not my sheets. Smell like dirt. And iron. In bed. But not my bed. Small. I can feel the edges. Not a king. Maybe a twin,

"Hungry, sweetheart?" The lady at the register smiles. A triple-decker display rotates slowly on the counter.

I nod, but say, "No. No, thank you." This place smells like strawberries and thick cut steak fries. My mouth waters. A booth in the corner is occupied by a an old shaky man moving food around his plate. He keeps staring at the empty seat across from him and sighing. He looks so sad. I recognize that look. My heart tugs my eyes back to the display.

"Are you sure," she asks. She sees me eyeing the glass. "Best in the county. Been a family recipe for years," she says. "Just one won't kill you." Her smile falters. A memory creeps into upturned eyes. She shakes it away. Just a passing...

Fog. Awake again.

Same bed. On my side. The pillow is new. It crinkles when I move. It's damp where my eyes rest. My feet shift. Cold sheets brush bare skin.

"It's not often we have someone come in here to not eat," she says. "You lost?"

I nod my head yes and say, "No. No, ma'am. I'm, um, I'm..." I stare at the menu behind her. "Why is that painted over?" I point to paint that doesn't quite match the rest of the board. Three letters and an exclamation point. The first letter is definitely a "P".

"Oh," she says without looking. "We don't sell that item anymore." Her smile fades.

"But," I look back to the carousel.

"I mean, we don't advertise it anymore. Those who want it bad enough can have it, you know what I'm sayin'?"

I nod my head despite my confusion. "I need help."

"Lawd Jesus, we all do," she laughs. It's genuine. It's contagious.

He's contagious.

I'm awake. Sitting. Feet dangling off the side of this bed. The rocking chair moves beside me. Outside the storm is raging. Inside my clothes are wet. I push hair out of my face. My hand smells like fireworks.

"Normally I charge people for help," she laughs. "But that look on your face tells me you're in a real pickle. What can I do for ya?"

"This," I pull three sheets of paper out of my bag and place them on the counter. "I just wanted to know if I could hang these in your window. It's ... it's...,"

She picks up the paper, turns it in her hands and frowns. "Oh no, sweetie. You know this girl?"

My face mimics hers. "She's my sister."

I'm standing.

Awake and standing. My back to the room. In a hallway. The chair creaks behind me. In front is a silent room. A silent room with windows, a big bed, and a tree that scratches.

"How long has it been?" she asks still looking at the paper.

"A few days or a few weeks or months. We don't really know." I reach for the other two. "I, um, don't know much. I haven't seen her in awhile. I'm just doing this for my parents."

She puts a warm hand on top of mine. "You're doing this for more than just your parents," she says. "I can see it in your eyes." She looks over my shoulder to the man in the booth then back to me. "I'll put two up on the main windows. You can put one on the door on your way out."

"Thank you," I say.

I'm shivering.

It's cold. No. I'm cold. This room is hot. It's radiating. I'm standing in front of the glass. Blue and red flashes through the window. Blue and red lights blinking outside. Blue and red eyes.