Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - Dinner with Malcolm

Episode Date: September 19, 2022

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I first met Malcolm about a year ago. It was just after 10 p.m. when the scuffed bell above the door clanged. My diner, Grandma's kitchen, had just closed. I could remember flipping the open sign to closed, but it was unusual for me to forget to lock the door. It was out on the edge of town without much going on, so I was never too concerned someone was going to walk in and rob the place.

I had been in the kitchen washing dishes when I heard the bell. A scraping noise echoed through the empty diner. Someone pulled one of the stools away from the old foremica counter. I sighed deeply. It wasn't the latecomer's fault that I forgot to lock the door, but they could have read the damn sign. I always hated having to tell someone to leave. It was a small town,

and a little bad word of mouth could drive down business. I dried my hands off and tossed the dishcloth over the edge of the sink. The dishes would have to wait. If I didn't get the late customer out the door, it may have attracted others. Not that I didn't end up in the place till midnight anyway, but I always liked to trick myself into thinking I'd go home at a reasonable hour. I pushed the swinging kitchen door open to see a square man and a long overcoat sitting at the counter. His shoulders were as broad as a refrigerator, and there wasn't much of a neck to speak of.

A tight bun of brown and gray hair puffed out from the back of his head. and a neatly trimmed beard fell below the counter. His thick brows were furrowed, and he stared straight ahead. Evening, pal, I called from the door. Must have forgot to lock up at closing. We shut down at ten. Come on back tomorrow and I'll cookie some eggs on the house for the inconvenience. The wall of a man turned his head toward me and nodded.

Didn't think you could see me, he said. Yeah, I can see you. I replied curtly. Trouble is, we ain't open right now. Glad to serve you tomorrow. His eyes drifted away from me and down to the laminated menu on the counter. He lifted a brutish arm and dropped it heavily on the counter, extending his thick finger toward the menu. The colossal digit hammered down onto the surface.

Three T-bone steaks cooked medium rare, he said. Two baked potatoes and one bottle of whatever beer you've got. I'm not picky. I felt my ears burning with anger. No one had ever accused me of being the friendliest guy around, but I had done my best to politely ask him to leave. I can still remember how gobsmacked I was when he had the audacity to make an order. Mr. I spat.

I don't think you're catching what I'm throwing. We are closed. Get out. I'll call the damn sheriff. The huge man didn't stand up, But he did slide his hand into his overcoat. My heart leapt into my throat thinking he was retrieving a weapon. But my fear subsided when he pulled his hand back out.

There was no gun. He held a huge roll of cash. $500 for the food, he said. Thumbs the size of Bratworth pushed a few bills onto the counter, but he didn't look up. You let me sit in here and eat for an hour. If the steak is cooked right and the beer is cold, I'll leave you a hundred dollar tip. Give the money to the owner. Keep it to yourself. I don't care, but I'm hungry. So how about it?

My eyes were as big as dinner plates as I looked at the pile of money on the counter. With the pandemic starting to slack off and businesses opening back up full time, I had expected better days. Truth be told, folks still weren't getting out like that. like they used to. I was struggling. Shutting down the diner had crossed my mind a few times. I wasn't in a position to turn down that kind of money. That was three T-bones, two potatoes and a beer? I asked in a more cheerful tone. Coming right up, Chief. A reasonable man, he said. I whipped up his order as fast as I could and took it out to the counter. As I put the plates down in front of the huge man,

I got my first good look at him. He was even larger up close than he had seemed when I saw him from the kitchen door. A wall of muscle and hair. His eyes were barely visible under the heavy tufts of eyebrows. The man looked almost like a mastiff. Without a word, he slid the money toward me and got started into his meal. Not wanting to stand in silence as he ate, I went to the back to stuff the money in my wallet.

I realized I had forgotten his beer, so I hurried to the cooler and snagged a long neck. By the time I walked through the door, he had finished all of the food. It couldn't have been more than four minutes since I had left, and the man had eaten three T-bone steaks and two baked potatoes. There wasn't a scrap of food left on the plate. Bewildered, I popped the cap off the beer and sat it in front of him. Wordlessly, he picked it up and swallowed the whole thing without taking his lips from the bottle. Must not have tasted too good, eh?

I teased the man. What do you mean? He asked. His forehead creased, and I could hear the confusion in his voice. It's a joke, buddy, I said. Never seen a man eat that fast in my life. The corners of his thick mustache raised as a grin spread across his face. He laughed deepened.

Fumbling into his overcoat again, the man pulled two more $100 bills out and dropped them on the counter. I am always hungry, he said. Never seems to go away. A good meal. Thanks for the patronage, sir, I said. Ain't been too many nights this good since the world went to shit, you know? He gripped the bar with two massive hands and pushed himself up. I marveled at how tall he was. Must have been at least seven feet tall.

He rubbed his stomach happily. What days are you open? he asked. Tuesday to Saturday, my first. friend, I replied. I extended my hand toward him. My name's Justin, by the way. He took my hand in his with a surprisingly gentle grip. Mine is Malcolm. The man turned and lumbered toward the door. As he stepped out, he had to duck his head to miss the frame. If you are so inclined, I'll be back this time each night. Same order, same pay. Get some fresh steaks for tomorrow. I could tell those had been frozen.

You got it! I shouted as the door closed. I watched as the man crossed the street. I expected him to turn left or right and continue down the sidewalk, but he ducked his head under a tree branch and vanished into the wood line. After that night, Malcolm stopped by every evening at 10 p.m.

I always flipped the sign to closed, but left the door unlocked for him. I would be washing dishes when the familiar clang of the bell let me know he had arrived. After a handful of visits, he even started bolting the door to save me the trouble. As soon as I heard the door, I would dry my hands off and throw the fresh steaks on the grill. With the sudden influx of cash, I didn't have to rely on buying the less expensive frozen cuts. If I'm honest, though, I only bought enough fresh cuts to feed him.

Cash flow was better, but times were still tight. They were still the best days I'd had in ages. I had managed to keep Angela hired by one and only waitress through the pandemic. The rest of the staff had been laid off. It was difficult to make enough money at the time to keep the doors open, so the staff wasn't an option. Malcolm's sudden arrival changed that. A month after he started coming in, I was able to bring back my two other servers.

Three months in, and I was able to rehire my line. cook, Dwayne. The diner was coming back to life, and it was all thanks to that bear of a man. I even told him about it one night. Thanks to you, I'm able to hire my old staff back on. I told him as he gobbled down his meal. Kind of feel nice not trying to keep this place afloat by myself. I am glad of it, he said between massive bites and rumbling belches. Please make sure they are gone before my arrival. We'll do, big man. I replied. Any reason?

Malcolm stopped eating and peered forward, lost and thought. I am a bit of a loner, Justin. He replied. While I do enjoy our discussions while I eat, the additional company may be too much for me. If you need additional financial motivation to make that happen, I will be glad to oblige. He began to reach into his coat for that never-ending wad of money.

No, no, no, I protested. You're already paying me an unreasonable amount to dine in privacy. Wouldn't ask a damn thing more from you. About 15 minutes before close, I sent the crew home. I paid them their full shifts wage, but the small window of time made sure that Malcolm had the joint to himself without worry. It was a win-win. Everything had seemed so much better six months after the mysterious behemoth arrived.

but the newfound peace of mind didn't last long. On a night around six months ago as Malcolm vanished into the tree line, I decided to step out of the front door to have a cigarette. It was a cool night, and the breeze was a welcome change from the stifling heat of the kitchen. I didn't smoke very often anymore, but when the urge hit me, I would sneak the stale pack I kept hidden from the top of the walk-in freezer.

Just seemed like a good night. While I watched the dancing curls of smoke drift away under the street light. Something began moving around in the brush in the woods across the street. I squinted my eyes to try to get a better view of what it could be, but nothing appeared. My mind told me it was probably just Malcolm moving around, but he vanished behind the trees ten minutes before. He had never come back on the same night after he left the diner. The butt of my cigarette had just hit the ground when I saw the two people,

piercing yellow eyes in the darkness beyond. I've seen hundreds of beady little eyes in the darkness throughout my life, but those were the most unsettling. They didn't narrow or blink. Just two perfectly round yellow orbs floating in the darkness. Go on! I yelled. Nothing to see here.

Head on back where you came from. The yellow orbs remained, locked on to me. A lump piled in my throat. My eyes darted to the group, and I saw a few decent-sized rocks in the grass beside the road. I leaned over and scooped a few into my hand. Get out of here! I yelled again to no effect. I said, go on!

I chucked one of the rocks, and to my surprise, it landed with a pleasant thud a few feet in front of the set of glowing eyes. It still didn't blink. It just gazed down at the rock I had thrown. My gut told me to get my ass back inside. But something held me in place. I felt like I couldn't move. Somewhere in the back of my brain, a little voice started talking to me. If you run, I'll follow.

If you hide, it'll find you. My stomach was in knots, and I felt like I may get sick. Never could I remember a time I wanted to run so much. No matter how hard I pulled at my legs, my feet refused to leave the ground. The yellow eyes had lost interest. interest in the rock and returned its piercing gaze toward me. I hesitated for a moment, but decided to throw another rock. My arm curled behind my back like a Major League pitcher and blasted forward,

throwing the rock with all of my might. The stone zoomed through the air and landed squarely between the hateful yellow eyes. To my shock, they vanished for just a moment as the thing blinked. Just as I was beginning to mentally celebrate landing such an accurate shot, The eyes blinked back open. Al filled the cool night air. For a moment, I thought it may be a wolf or coyote, but the tone was far too low. I'd heard wolves and coyotes my entire life. It sounded like a diesel truck idling roughly through the woods.

The depth of the tone made my bones feel like they were shaking. More rustling came from the woods. Dozens of sets of the same hateful yellow eyes emerged. The growling grew into a cold. chorus, snarls and the snaps of muscular jaws joined to create a symphony of nightmares. In unison, the horde of yellow eyes began to move forward. I tried in vain to spark my body into motion, but I remained anchored to the sidewalk. In a few more steps, the things would have been in the streetlights. Just then, one of the things began to whimper in agony. I could hear something heavy

rumbling through the trees and the sound of something large hitting the ground and rolling. No longer hypnotized by my presence, the countless sets of eyes turned into the woods. I could hear them moving toward the howls of pain. I felt backward. I nearly tumbled through the glass of the door. In a panic, I turned and opened the door before spilling forward on the cold tile. With a great deal of effort, I crawled toward the door and slammed the dead bolt in place before scurrying into the kitchen. Standing behind the swinging door, I looked through the porthole to the large panel window

that sat at the front of the diner. There was no sign of movement. No sign of whatever horrendous thing had been outside in the woods. As I stood there peering out, I noticed my legs were cold. I'd pissed my pants and never felt it. All control of my body had vanished

when I was staring into those hateful eyes. After an hour of hiding, I decided it was time to head home. There had been no signs of activity outside. I was terrified and uncomfortable. Lazzang sur-goled, puissance-molyne, for 15 minutes.

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And profited. Via-Rai, the voice that we love that we love that we love. The truck was near the back door and I knew I could make it before anything saw me. dashed to the truck and threw myself in haphazardly. My keys must have fallen to the mat a half dozen times before I managed to get them in the ignition. When my headlights burst into life,

they landed on four squat hairy figures and I nearly screamed. It was just a bunch of dogs. Fucking dogs, eating scraps that had fallen out of the dumpster. Was that all it had been? A few starving muts in the woods had stopped to watch me smoke a cigarette, and my mind had had turned it into a madman's carnival, I burst into laughter. There I sat, a grown man who hid in his diner for God knows how long, in piss-filled pants, because a few hungry dogs had stopped to watch him. The whimpering in the howls? Two of them must have gotten into a fight. My mind had probably made up the rest of the noises. I'd never felt so damn stupid. I pulled the truck around the side of the diner and onto the street toward my house. What a night.

I tossed a final glance back toward the streetlight in front of the diner. Something was there. It looked like Malcolm walking back into the woods. Malcolm continued coming around for his evening meal, and I kept collecting my unreasonable payment. It had crossed my mind a dozen times to ask him if he had seen me driving away that night after I saw the dogs. I wondered why he was back in front of the diner.

I wondered if I had just convinced myself I hadn't seen something. unnatural. But I never asked. I was afraid speaking it into life would make it real, turn it into something worse. And I worried that my largest paying customer may not like me checking up on him. So I just kept cooking the steaks and taking the money. He kept eating them. No one asked questions. I didn't see the eyes anymore, but it always felt like something was watching me after that night. The diner wasn't in the middle of the country, but it was on the outskirts of town. The lot directly across the street was undeveloped and covered in trees. On the sides of the diner sat an antique store and a barber shop, both closed around 5 p.m.

Staff weren't allowed to take the trash out alone anymore. It annoyed the hell out of them, but I put my foot down. While I wasn't convinced that the four stray dogs were what I'd seen in the woods, I told the staff to be wary of them. They laughed, but I didn't give a shit. Two people to the dumpster and back. No exceptions. At the end of the shift,

I always had Dwayne walk the girls to the car when he left. I always wished I could go with them to save myself the lonely walk to my truck, but I couldn't leave. Malcolm would be coming in for his regular meal, and I counted on that cash to keep everything afloat. One night as he ate, I mentioned the dogs to Malcolm. I see you walking into the woods every night, I said.

I've seen some stray dogs around here. You ever see anything like that when you leave? He dropped his fork to his plate and lifted his squinted face toward me. You've seen dogs, or you've seen something else, Justin. Dogs, man, I replied. At least I think they were dogs. Big-ass yellow eyes, size of damn dinner plates it looked like. dozens of him, lined up in the woods that you walked through.

That's why I figured you may have seen him. Careful in those woods, Justin. Dangerous things out there. Best not to go out front at night. He tossed the money on the counter and started toward the door. You know what it was, don't you? I asked, as he continued walking. Why the hell don't you tell me?

That's the trouble with humans, he replied in annoyance. You think you want to know something, but once you find out, you wish you never did. He walked out and vanished into the woods. Malcolm started eating his meals in silence. Since the night I asked him about the creatures in the woods, our conversations became less and less frequent until they didn't happen at all. I fixed his dinner, and he ate without a word. He still left the money on the counter, and so I kept coming.

going. Dwayne called in sick one day and left me to man the kitchen on my own. It hadn't been so difficult a few months ago, but now people felt more comfortable getting out and business was increasing at a fairly rapid rate. The dinner rush was finally dropping to a trickle, which turned out to be handy. Angela stepped to the back to answer a phone call around 6 p.m. turned out to be her son. He'd gotten sick at a friend's house, and Ange needed to leave early to pick him up. I told her to head out and take care of the kid. I'd watch the diner. Everything was pretty smooth sailing that night,

until I remembered the mountain of trash bag sitting by the back door. I'd meant to take them out with Ange when she was still here, but it had slipped my mind. My diner was my pride, and I didn't want to leave garbage sitting around. But it was already dark, and I didn't want to risk running into whatever the hell I'd been hiding in the woods. I hadn't seen the damn things again, but I knew they were still out there.

I could feel them. It was 8.15 p.m. when the phone rang. I answered it and was delighted to hear the voice of my old friend Mike from the next town over. He ran a good little greasy spoon of his own, and we like to talk shop from time to time. Justin, just a heads up? Mike said in a serious tone. Oh, Lou, from the health department, is out making surprise inspections. No one gave their good buddy Micah heads up, but I'm helping you out, my friend.

Dumb bastard not to point off my score for having my sanitation buckets two degrees low. Two degrees, Justin. Now that big fucking 99 score is going to sit in the window till he comes back. Some people. I laughed. Lou is a hard ass, but he's decent enough. You think he's swinging this way? Who knows, my boy?

He belted. Just a word to the wise. If you're storing raw chicken in the desk drawer, may want to put it away, huh? He laughed and hung up the phone. After hanging up the phone, I started tidying up the diner. Lou probably wouldn't come to the diner that night, but it was hard to say. Our county was small, and if he had already hit mics with a surprise inspection, there was a decent chance he would come there.

It didn't take me long to remember the massive pile of garbage at the front door. The rest of the diner had been in good shape, but a mountain of trash was sure to catch a health inspector's attention quickly. I dreaded the thought of having to haul it to the dumpster, but I couldn't risk letting it sit there if Lou showed up. I pushed the back door open and scanned the parking lot and field behind the diner. My truck sat under the light post to the left, and the dumpster was under the light post to the right. The field beyond was as black as anything I'd ever seen, but there were not. no signs of movement or a hint of those hateful yellow eyes. With a great sense of dread, I began to pile the bags into a sloppy stack on top of

the overflowing rolling cans. I had no intention of making two trips, in and out, no round trips. The plastic wheels rumbled loudly on the pavement as I hauled them toward the dumpster. When I reached the dumpster, I slid the side door open to toss in the bags. The sound of metal squealing against metal made me cringe. If my goal had been stealth, I had failed miserably. After I tossed in the last bag, my eyes scanned the field again. Still no signs of movement.

No eyes, no growling. My pulse finally began to drop back to normal, and I grabbed the rolling garbage cans to head back to the diner. When I turned around, under the light above the back door, there was a creature standing on four legs. It stood as tall as the bed of my pickup truck had its frame rippled with muscles. Pale green skin covered its body,

punctuated with bristly black hairs. There was no discernible head, but two bulbous yellow, and a ragged mauve teeth split the area between the thing's shoulders. It snarled and barked. It wasn't exactly a bark, but I'm not sure what else to call it.

Thick, red, red, drool flowed from the toothy mouth onto the asphalt below. I began to back away from the nightmare abomination and moved toward my truck. My heart nearly burst when the alarm from my truck began to blast. I turned my head to see another one of the hellhound standing in the bed of my truck, clawed feet propping itself on the cab. It grunted and turned its face toward me as though sniffing the air with unseen nostrils. My feet froze again. I couldn't move. I felt as helpless as the night I had seen the things watching me from the woods. The hellhound from the truck jumped down and lowered itself to the ground, readying itself to bounce. I looked toward the beast at the door, and it was

moving forward in the same posture. I began to scream for help, but I knew none would come. My eyes closed, and I started to pray for a quick death. The hot breath from one of the hounds was on my hand when I heard one of them cry out in pain. I wanted to open my eyes, but the pained howl made me wince and closed my eyes even tighter. There was a sudden dry snap, like the cracking of ice followed by a heavy thud. Another of the hellhounds was snarling and snapping its powerful jaw. I've been waiting for you, I heard a familiar voice say, expected more of you to come, but I'll take what I can get. I opened my eyes to see Malcolm standing before me. One hellhound on the ground at his feet, purple liquid leaking from its mouth.

The other circled him warily, seeking an opportunity to strike at the huge man. Malcolm turned in a circle with the hound, arms out in a grappling stance. The hellhound crouched and leapt forward toward the big man. Malcolm held out a meaty arm and the creature sank its teeth into his flesh. It thrashed wildly, but Malcolm's squinted expression never changed. He lifted the thing on his arm high on the air and brought it crashing down onto the parking lot. A buffled whimper escaped the beast, but it maintained its hold. The big man began to rain blows onto the creature, compressing it between his meaty fist and the asphalt beneath.

An eruption of purple blood spilled from the corners of its mouth, and its muscles shuddered as Malcolm pulverized the thing's internal organs. It began to breathe raggedly before releasing its jaws from his arm. Malcolm stood up straight and brought a healed boot down on the beast's face with a sickening crunch. Before I had a chance to speak, Malcolm lifted one of the beasts above his head and turned his face up. His face became long and his mouth grew wide. The bushy beard and eyebrows that had always covered his face, stretched, and revealed a set of bulbous yellow eyes and a mouth filled with dagger-like teeth. He shoved one of the hounds in and swallowed it whole.

His massive torso bulged as he bent to pick up the second hound. It slid into the nightmarish mouth and his stomach bulged even more. His jar retracted and the skin of his face tightened again, hiding the vicious mouth and yellow eyes. He turned to me and held a hand up to greet me as though he had just noticed I was there. Followed the pack here about a year ago, he said matter-of-factly. They took a special interest in you. Not everyone can see us.

My kind only feeds on those that can. My jaw fell slack, and my legs turned to jelly. I was no longer fastened to the ground and promptly fell backward. The big man walked toward me and held out a hand to help me up. What? What the hell are you? I stammered in fear. Same thing as them, though I changed up my appearance a bit.

he said as he rubbed his stomach with glee. They crave the flesh of those who can see them. I'm a bit of an outcast. Developed a liking for the flesh of my kin. I follow the pack until they find a human to hunt. One that can see them. I'll hang around for a bit and wait for them to make a move. Then I pick a few off.

The stakes keep the hunger at bay. But I need a true meal. every year or two. I was, I was bait. I spat. You used me as bait? If that's how you want to look at it, he said as he began to walk away.

The pack will move on now. I stick around for a few weeks to make sure they don't come back for you. Then I'll move on and catch up with the pack. Malcolm, swollen with his hellish meal, wobble toward the corner of the diner to make his way to the trees across the road. He turned and faced me before letting out an earth-shaking belch. Won't be needing the stakes tonight, Justin, he said jovially. But I'll leave some money on the counter. See you tomorrow.