The Obsecration

It's Leeds. And the patrons in the Look Diner await their meals, drawn by something greater than hunger, something stronger than the need for shelter from the oppressive heat and humidity of summer. Waitresses hustle. Cooks sharpen knives and light burners, giving birth to blue blossoms of flame. Something is happening tonight. Something is stirring in the greased air sliced by whirling ceiling fans. You and I, we have a corner booth. A front row seat. Something is going to happen...
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It's Leeds. And the patrons in the Look Diner await their meals, drawn by something greater than hunger, something stronger than the need for shelter from the oppressive heat and humidity of summer. Waitresses hustle. Cooks sharpen knives and light burners, giving birth to blue blossoms of flame. Something is happening tonight. Something is stirring in the greased air sliced by whirling ceiling fans. You and I, we have a corner booth. A front row seat. Something is going to happen tonight, here, in the Look Diner in Leeds, Massachusetts. Something devilish. Something unnatural. All will play a part. You and I? Though we are but observers, we may not live through the night. But we will see something no one has ever seen before. It might be starting soon. Yes . . . the lights are flickering. The ceiling tiles are bulging like brown-stained bellies. The yolks of the eggs on my plate are filling with blood, and my water is boiling in my glass. Don't look away. Don't even blink.