Chapter 1: Stephen

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Under the backdrop of any major city in the United States of America, one would see the setting of a coffee shop as a typical feature in any city landscape. In the year 1999, they would be considered a commonplace despite the rise of the ever growing Starbucks coffee chains. Even so, around any city if you look hard enough, you can find a independent run coffee shop here and there. In this case of the city Lincoln, Nebraska, Most try to have the classic look or some even try to be the urber-culture style. Then there are the types of coffee shops that look so run down and smoke filled that you’d accidentally mistaken them for crack houses. It’s not the fault of the owners, it’s just the feel that they try to convey...
In this particular coffee shop the walls have peeling wallpaper that was used to hide the speckled sky blue paint that was hastily used to try to add some color to the concrete walls. Most of the tables and chairs were mismatched. Some of them no more than park benches and tables. Others could’ve come from any home in this big city. But like it can be said, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And the charm of this coffee shop had more to do with the customers than the surroundings. It was almost run like a late night diner. It was a place were teens and generation Xers could come if they had the need for a cup of coffee. A place were they could unwind and play a card game or use one of the tables for their college studies. Some use it to just get away from the hectic world they live around. But then there are those that just come by and take in the atmosphere. The coffee shop wasn’t much to look at but it had character...
The young man sitting at one of these mismatched tables was doing just that as he slowly sipped at this hot coffee. He had just got off his nightshift job as a pizza delivery boy and by all rights should be in bed right at this moment. But once again, as was the case for the past two weeks, sleep was evading him. Since he didn’t feel the need to head back to his apartment just yet, the young man decided to stop by his favorite place and have a cup of joe as he watched the world pass him by. Normally he might see a familiar face or two in the night. But tonight of most auspicious nights he was among strangers. Being in the mood not to make friends, he continues to sip his coffee alone and allowed for his mind to aimlessly wander. But instead of his mind setting the track on wondering what he will do tomorrow and when he should call that cute blonde, he found himself thinking about his past and how he found himself here in the city of Lincoln, Nebraska.
A country boy by birth, he spent most of his time out in the fields or in the rural landscape. He went to school in the nearest town and graduated without any problems. It wasn’t till after high school be began to feel out of place. He was told such would be the case, by his high school counselor, when the normal patterns of his life would fall apart and he would have to make the life choices in the coming years.
He figured that he should do what most others do in his class and head off to college. So he filed the papers and found himself in the big city, ready to take on what college would throw at him. But once here, he found college not all it was cracked up to be. Sure the classes were no problem but the atmosphere and the setting was all wrong to him. He felt so alien there and wrong that he resigned his enrollment in the allotted cutoff date. From there he just did the actions that most would have to do just to survive in the city. He got an apartment, a job, and what would give him a modest lifestyle. He might look out of place with his blue jeans and t-shirt with a unbutton collar shirt, amongst the designer clothing crowd of his generation. But like he said to himself, he’s a farm boy: you can take the farm boy to a city but you can’t take the farm out of him.
He once again thought about his past and all that made him the man he was today. It’s a train of thought he normally didn’t like to progress given his feeling. Every time he thinks about such, he feels there is something missing. That he was meant to have a purpose in life. He remembers his mother and father, his mother a Christian with strong convictions that her children would receive some form of religious upbringing. the cross underneath his t-shirt was proof of her parental skills. But his father, he remembers how he was a tough man. He could remember all he did in his life about seeing his dad out in the fields, working on cars, working the tough job and the back breaking labor. And never once did he break stride, it was his element. Not only could he do the normal white collar job but he had the sharp mind to do any blue collar workload. He never understood why he chose the hard road than the easy one. It wasn’t till the year he was graduating that his father told him he did such work because at the time there was no other means of employment. “and it keeps a man humble” he also remembered. Though some would say he didn’t have much of a tolerance for the religion. He knew that his father believed just as much as his mother did.
The only mystery that this young man knew about his father was were exactly came from. Mom spoke little on how they met and the circumstances of their encounter. As for dad’s ancestors he was just as perplexed as the rest of his brothers and sisters. He thought one day he’d do one of those internet searches to find out his dad’s ancestral past but he never got around to it. He knew that his father was originally from Texas but before then was anyone’s guess. Even when he asked his father about that, dad would always clam up or say that he’d tell him later. For the life of him, he thought that perhaps dad did some horrible crime and he was trying to hide away from it. But as the years passed and this young man grew to full manhood, he got the feeling that dad wasn’t running away from something but trying to keep some burden from others. If not to allow them to have to carry such in the known future...
He remembers how his father wanted him to grow up strong and proud of his family. Proud to be apart of such a big and God believing family, and to be strong to protect those that you care about so much. The strong statement was what made such an impact on him. Throughout high school he did his all to work out and play the roughest sports he was able to. By the end of his years in high school he had the legs of a runner, the body of a quarterback, and the brains of any math major.
A far cry from his skinny puberty years.
Perhaps he should’ve joined the army. They could’ve used him and his skills. Especially after the war in Iraq and the policing actions US forces were involved with in Kosovo. But instead of listening to the recruiters, he went the way of college, and is where he is today. At a glance one would say that he was living a full life. At age 21, he was on his way to make his mark in life. the only question for himself was “what mark”? To be honest he felt rather lost on what to do next. He knew there was indeed more to life than hanging out with friends, working his job and going home to an empty apartment. He certain wasn’t interesting in making his life more complicated by getting married to some woman and having babies with her just for having sake. He didn’t feel that the time was right to settle down yet, that something was left unfinished.
He couldn’t explain it but the lack of interest in sleep these past two weeks gave him the feeling of pending dread. It was bad enough that before the two weeks he would be haunted by nightmares he could not remember. That something was slowly creeping itself out of the shadows and was ready to not only pounce on him but on all that he held dear. He remembered what his father said about being strong to protect those he held most dear. Why did he always come back to that? Even now he reaches for his cross under his shirt without a second moments thought. What was this shadow that was coming for him and those he cared for? He sure wasn’t buying into this Y2K scare that everyone was talking about. Sure it was the middle of October but the technical community had two more months to tend to this pending disaster. They’d know about it since the beginning of 1999. So the only ones foolish enough to think the world was going to end were the doomsdayers and those that were buying bunkers out in the middle of no where to protect themselves from the hordes of hungry and crazed people once they learned that their PC’s and cell phones stopped functioning. Even that made for TV movie was a joke!
So then what was it of all nights that was keeping him on edge? He did his best not to let the darkness and the shadows of the night get the best of him. They were just ghost stories, things didn’t exist in the darkness. Despite his believes, there was nothing to fear from night, was there?
All of a sudden, he began to feel a creeping foreboding enter the coffee shop. He didn’t dare turn around, giving what this feeling was the pleasure of rattling him. He couldn’t explain it but it felt that something was filling the room though there was no one else around besides the few people in this night. The dread slowly began to build and start to consume the young man. He found it harder and harder to breathe. He did his best not to look panicked but a cute blonde haired waitress wearing a shirt skirt noticed his wide-eyed appearance. He became aware of the fine sheen of sweat starting to build on his lower lip and the hairs on the back of his neck standing up on end. If he was lucky the waitress might mistake him as some burned out junkie. But the outfit he wore and the stylish goatee gave only the impression that he was not the type to fall the sway of any designer drug.
The young man’s chest started to hurt so he gripped the front of his shirt. Immediately the foreboding started to subside. He didn’t realize that he had accidentally brushed up against the cross his mother had given him on his graduation. He immediately grab the cross thru the fabric and began to recite the Lord’s prayer. With every sentence, the darkness began to recede. When finished with the prayer, it had left altogether. Others in the coffee shop began to take notice of the young man gripping his shirt as if he was having a panic attack. “Are you alright sir?” asked the blonde haired waitress. It wasn’t till she spoke that the young man finally took notice of the waitress. She wasn’t the norm with the other girls around here. Her outfit had an outdated, late Victorian look and her face was that of an ageless beauty. Her eyes had the odd rim of darkness around them yet her eyes themselves sparked with the knowledge of ages.
A Goth thought the young man. A very smart one or one on some drug. He nodded to her and said he was well, he just didn’t feel well all of a sudden. “I hope it wasn’t from the coffee good sir.” she answered. “Here, have one on the house.” she said as she placed a fresh cup in front of him. He nodded his thanks and she answered with a wink as she walked back toward the counter. That was the most oddest of situations to be in he thought as he picked up the fresh coffee to take a sip. Perhaps there was something to his upbringing than he realized. He watched the skylight as he took a sip from the coffee before him. Something was wrong he noticed, the coffee had an odd taste to it. It wasn’t one of the house’s normal blends, it had a sort of coppery taste. Almost like sucking on a dirty penny but with a more liquid quality....
The young man violently spit out the coffee and watched it stain the table before him.
The stains were that of blood.
The young man dropped the cup and quickly jumped out of his chair. The sound of it’s falling made everyone look up at him. The young man stared aghast as he saw the spilled contents of the vile drink stain the table as it poured out of it’s cup. Then the most wicked thing happened: the young man saw the cup reposition itself to the sitting position on it’s own accord and begin to overflow. Soon a small fountain of blood was coming out of the cup and began to flow over the table. It bubbled and ran like some twisted gothic horror movie special effect. He couldn’t keep his eyes off it as he saw the blood begin to cover the table, overflow off the edge and begin to pool on the floor. He ran his fingers over his lips and goatee only to see the blood upon his fingers. He looked down his shirt and saw the blood splattered on his clothing. He felt the sticky ooze of it matt itself on his skin. He felt it stick itself onto his cross.
He looked away from the horrid image and glanced to all that was watching him. He wanted to yell and ask what the hell was going on. If they all saw what he saw. But they only looked back at him with confusion, and some mild amusement, in their eyes. Anger started to build inside this young man and was about to demand who’s idea of a sick idea of a joke this was but when he looked back at his table and his fountain of horror, it was gone. All it showed was his overturned cup of coffee now started to leave a dark puddle on the table. He placed his fingers to his mouth and goatee again but it came back stained this time with nothing but coffee. But the blood taste was still in his mouth. He did his best not to retch as he wiped the coffee off his lips. He looked himself over and saw his clothes not stained with blood as he first felt but with that of the coffee he now saw at the table.
Yet he still tasted blood.
What was going on?
Suddenly, he remembered the strange waitress that served him the very cup of death. Others in the coffee shop began to come toward him to see if he was alright. He even noticed a few patrons beginning to pull out joints thinking as if he was a junky in need of a fix. Before they could come to him, he made a mad dash to the counter and demanded to know where the blonde waitress was for she had much to explain to.
“Look at this place,” said the owner. “Does it look like I have the money to hire a waitress to serve you all? Let alone some cute blonde?” Before the young man could ask another question, he caught a glimpse of the very woman that served him the drink, walk by the store window. It was only a fleeting glance but he knew at once it was her. Like how a hungry man chases after a stole crumb of bread, he ran out of the store and onto the sidewalk.
But the sidewalk was empty.
Not just empty in general of any people. It was as if the entire street decided to die out. No cars, no sounds, no birds, or night activity. The only noise to be heard was the light hum of the street lamps. The young man felt warm along the front of his body and looked down to see that his shirt was once again stained with blood.
I’m loosing my mind, thought the young man.
Then for some odd sense of dread, as if he was being watched, he had the sudden urge to turn around and look up toward the sky. What he say made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up once more. Before him he saw the moon, full and round like any moon would be during the fall season. What made him think he was seeing things was when the moon began to turn blood red before his very eyes. Like the slow spilling of the blood on the table back at the coffee house, he saw the blood drip over the moon’s white glow to turn into a hellish red. The young man stood there and bared witness to this evil omen. Instantly he grabbed for his cross and squeeze it tight in his palm when he heard the light, sinister sound of laughter.
He knew not what to make of all of this at first. The blonde, the feeling of dread, the sleepless nights over two weeks, the elusive nightmares, the blood...
All he knew was that something’s not right in the world. That some sense of evil was beginning to stir. And the only one to notice it this very night was him. He once again thought of what his father had told him once more. About how he must become strong to protect all things he held most dear. Gripping his cross, he looks again to the blood red moon that made itself known only to him. At that moment he sensed a bit of that purpose in life that he was sure he was missing.
That night, Stephen Simmons Corn, faced his destiny....