Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - I Work the Night Shift at a Diner. There's a Customer No One Else Can See

Episode Date: July 13, 2026

Most nights at the diner are the same: loud teens, greasy food, and aching feet. Then she appeared in Booth Six — beautiful, charming, and completely invisible to everyone but me. Huge thanks to our sponsors: BetterHelp: Sign up now and get 10% off at ⁠betterhelp.com/dns⁠. Shopify: You don’t need anyone’s approval to make a living. Build your own business with a free trial at shopify.com/dns Author:  Jake Bible Check out Jake's latest collection of stories, They All Bleed: Ten NoSleep Stories, Volume Two https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0G96H432Y * * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 18. Listener discretion is advised.  #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #creepypasta #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

If you're into horror with a heavy dose of sci-fi, classified experiments, and things humanity was never meant to understand, check out my other podcast, the SCP experience. Each episode pulls you into the hidden world of the SCP Foundation, where dangerous anomalies are studied, contained, and sometimes unleashed. These aren't just scary stories. They're classified nightmares. Click here to listen now or search for the SCP experience wherever you get your podcasts. The fork clatters to the floor at my feet. Without thinking, I balance the tray of food in my left hand, bend, and pick the fork up, setting it on the table in front of the young woman in the booth. I'll get you a clean one in a sec, I say without pausing on my way to the table toward the back, where a gaggle of teen girls sits, waiting for their fries and milkshakes. No hurry, I hear the young woman say. I've got all the time in the world.

The way she says it makes me stop for half a second, not because it sounds threatening. because it sounds true. Wouldn't that be nice? All the time in the world. I barely have time to pee. Most mornings, I'm up before the sun. I get my granddaughter, Tabitha, ready for school, while my daughter, Anya, sleeps off another double shift. Then I drop Tabitha off, run errands, come home, clean up, eat whatever passes for lunch, and get dinner halfway started. By the time I pick Tabitha up from school, finish dinner, wake Anya, and get changed for work, I already feel I've put in a full day. Then I come here, where I am now, working my ass off for a bunch of teenagers who will definitely not be tipping an appropriate amount. I set the fries and milkshakes down and give the girls a big,

practiced John's smile. Can I get you ladies anything else? I ask. Ladies? Oh my God, he is so adorable. One of them screeches. The bones are lifted, and I blink away the spots after a couple of flashes. I'm posting this right now. No, Becca, I'm posting it. Well, you two shut up. You can both post it. I can't keep up as the girls bicker and laugh and love and fume as teen girls do. So, you ladies are good?

I ask. They stop their bickering and laughing and smile up at me. Yes, thank you. Can I get some mustard? We're good. I look at the girl who spoke up. I'll get you some mustard. right away.

Thanks. Mustard? Ew, yuck. I don't know. I like mustard. I only liked the bright yellow kind. My mom made me eat something called Dijon, but it was nasty. Dijon.

I love his music. Me too. His last album was so good. I let the girls gab and walk toward the wait station by the kitchen door. I grab an extra fork. You ready to order? I asked the young woman in the booth as I set the clean. as I set the clean fork down in front of her, picking the dirty one up and tossing it into my apron pocket.

She looks like she stepped out of a different world than the rest of us. Fitted black dress, dark red coat, hair too perfect for a Tuesday night diner, and a smile that seems to know exactly where every weak spot in a man is. She glances at my name tag. John? Yep, that's me. John Loven. Father of one, grandfather of one, husband of none.

The young woman grins and nods. Nice. I like that. Tells a whole story in one sentence. Oh, that's not my whole story, believe me. No, I suppose it's not. You ready or do you need another minute? That depends. She tilts her head, her smile sharpening a little.

What would you recommend? Well, I'll throw that depends right back at you. Are you in the mood for sweet or savory? A little of both. Then you can't go wrong. Can't go wrong with what those young ladies ordered, fries and a milkshake. Done. And make it a double order of fries.

Can do. What flavor of milkshake? What you got? You name it, we've got it. Butterscotch. I take a step back and study the young woman. Butter scotch? Who taught you to like butterscotch?

I don't get what you mean. I take a step back and study her. That's an old school order. I used to get butterscotch dilly bars when I was a kid. But I don't hear many people ask for it anymore. Most people your age go for salted caramel or dark chocolate cherry. She smiles. Maybe I'm older than I look.

Yeah? I say. You hiding an AARP card in that purse? Well, John Lovin. I'm not as young as I look. Is that so? I size her up. I'm guessing 28?

A little older. No way you're in your 30s. I laugh. Whatever it is. is that you're doing, bottle it. You'd make a fortune. If I could bottle it, I'd be richer than God, she says. Wouldn't we all? Her smile softens, but her eyes stay fixed on me. Besides, I wouldn't waste it on you. I raise an eyebrow. Is that right? You don't need to lose any years, John Lovin. You're one of a kind exactly as you are. All right, I'll give you that, I say. Clearing my throat

as a stupid little flutter moves through my stomach. I straighten my apron and look down at my order pad. You sure know how to talk your way and do a good tip. What can I say? I know what people like to hear. The smile she gives me is trouble wrapped in silk. I shake it off. I'm old enough to know better.

But there is something about her that feels a little too practiced. Most people look through a server, around him, past him. Evelyn looks like she's reading my soul. No need to let a stranger's charm get under my skin. I clear my throat and look down to my order pad. I'll get your order in before you talk me into giving you the meal for free. Hurry back. I'd like to ask you a couple questions if I may.

I nod and grin, but the grin falls away when I walk back to the wait station to put her order in. A couple of questions? That's weird. I glance over my shoulder and the young woman is smiling at me. I give her a wave and then focus on the order terminal in front of me. order up. Gil shouts from the kitchen window. I tap Send, and the butterscotch milkshake with a double order of fries flies

flies through the computer universe and into the kitchen. I can hear the ticket printing as I walk over to the window to grab the burger and tuna melt that the corner booth ordered. Hey, Gil, does that woman in Booth 6 look like a cop to you? I ask as I balance both the burger and the tuna melt plates on my left forearm. Gil turns and gives me a frown. What woman? The one I just put the double fries and butterscotch milkshake order in for.

Yeah, I saw it. Booth 6. He glances out of the kitchen window. I don't know. Ask me when she's back from the bathroom or wherever she went. I got food to cook, John. What? I glanced at Booth 6.

The young woman is sitting right there, playing with some sugar packets. Just have a look, will you? I did, John. Now let me cook. But... I shake my head and walk off with the burger and teard. tuna melt, leaving Gill to cook. The shift is only an hour in, so I don't want to annoy him already. A pissy gill makes for a crappy shift. I know that from experience. Here you go, folks,

I say and set the food down in front of the couple in the corner booth. Get you anything else? Um, some mustard, the woman asks. Coming right up. I say and realize I forgot to get that teen girl's mustard. Rushing back to the wait station, I pour two portions of mustard. dropping one off to the tuna melt lady, then I hurry to the gaggle of teen girls, and set the second in front of the nice young lady who likes her fries a little differently. I can't help but smile as she tells her friends to politely kiss her butt while they razz her over dipping her fries in mustard. Got a moment? the young woman asks, snagging me by the wrist as I pass her booth.

I look down, startled, and pull my arm away. Then I gasped. I swear for a moment there, she wasn't a young woman at all. But a tall man. or something shaped like one, dressed in a long black cloak, with his hood pulled up, and only two red eyes visible. Easy, I say, pulling my wrist free. All eyes turned to me, confused frowns form around the diner, and I forced myself to take a breath.

For a second, she wasn't a woman at all. She was something in a long black coat, hood pulled low, with two red eyes burning where a face should have been. Then I blink, and she's just sitting there again. young, beautiful, impossible to look away from. Certainly not something with glowing red eyes on a black cloak. I give the room a big fake smile, and everyone focuses back on their food or their menus.

Darn it, sorry, she says. I can be grabby. She laughs at the look of concern on my face that I must be failing to hide. No, no, not that kind of grabby. I'm, uh, what's the word? She snaps her fingers, and I catch a whiff of something old, something damp. Tactile, that's it. I'm tactile. Okay, Miss Tactile. Let's keep those hands in the booth, okay?

Evelyn. I'm sorry? I'm going by Evelyn tonight. I mean, my name is Evelyn. Great Evelyn. I'm John, as you know. Can I get you anything before your food is ready? Ice tea, a soda? No, no, this water is fine. But I would love for you to sit for a moment. Do you have a break coming up? She looks over her shoulder at the teenage gaggle, then looks back at me, preferably sooner than later. A few years ago, we decided to launch no sleep coffee. We already had the audience and the concept, but we needed an easy way for people to purchase our products. That's why we went with Shopify. What surprised me the most was how straightforward it was to create the storefront and list our items.

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Start your free trial at Shopify.com slash DNS. Start your free trial at Shopify.com slash DNS. I try to reply, but nothing comes out. I'm not liking how she looked at those girls. Clearing my throat, I say, I'm pretty busy, only serve her on shift tonight. You would only take a couple of minutes of your time, I promise. I lick my lips.

What questions? Just about your life and experience as a way Server. I'm sorry? Server. It's gender neutral. The owner of this place wants us to be called servers, not waiters. Or waitresses. Exactly. Something about human resources and equality. I don't know. He sent a link to a video I was told to watch, and I never did. It talks about gender roles in the workplace and stuff like that. Well, John Lovin, I don't want to ask you about gender roles in the workplace, just a little about your life. You know this sounds really creepy, right?

I do. Sorry, but I collect stories. It's a passion of mine. She rolls her eyes. I know, I know. I'm too young looking to have any sort of passion. She laughs, and I swear I can hear a choir singing over the sounds of screaming. I shut her and take a step back.

John, are you okay? Fine. Order up! Gill shouts. Be right back, Evelyn. I believe that's your double fries and butterscotch mill. A chill runs down my spine when I turn away. Booth 6? Is she still watching me?

I ask Gil when I get to the order window. What? No, she's not. Must have gone to the bathroom again. Gil says and turns away. His focus on the next order. She must have a small bladder. I say to myself, as I pick up the huge basket of fries and the butterscotch milkshake. Then I turn and see Evelyn sitting in her booth, again playing with some sugar packets. I look back at Gil. Gil. What do you mean? She's sitting right there. Then she came back. Gil barks.

That rumen is almost up. Okay, I'll be right back for it. I carry the fries and milkshake over to Evelyn's booth and set them both in front of her. Thank you, John. And I want to apologize for sounding creepy, kind of a vocational hazard if I'm being honest. Oh, what do you do? I suppose you could say I'm in the funeral business. Funeral business? Like out of I got a mortuary? Are you an undertaker? I think they're called funeral directors now, and no, I'm not. But I do send them a lot of business. I stiffen, her shoulders slump.

Yep, I may know how to get attention, but that doesn't mean I'm good with people, she says sadly. The vibes I'm getting off this woman are all over the place. Order up! Gil shouts. Enjoy your fries and shake, Evelyn. After you drop off that Rubin, could I ask you those. questions? Evelyn's eyes are almost pleading. I start to come up with an excuse, then glance around the diner. I'm in a public place, at work, with plenty of witnesses,

and despite the strange feeling she gives me, she's still a petite young woman sitting alone in a booth. What harm could it do? Besides, she might leave a decent tip, which would hopefully make up for whatever the girls were about to stiff me on. Okay, I'll drop off the rubin, and then take a quick break. After I check on all my customers first. Of course. With a slight flutter of apprehension in my belly, I deliver the Rubin to the gentleman reading some self-help book.

Then I do the rounds, filling up waters and sodas, before I walk over to Booth Six and sit down across from Evelyn. All right, young lady, you have five minutes. Make them count. She smiles so big that you'd think I just gave her a million dollars. Okay, okay, make it count. She says to herself, the nods. Well, John, the first question is, if you were those girls' age again, what would you do differently?

Those girls' age? Oh, I was never those girls' age. The kids these days have grown up in a completely different world. I wouldn't even know where to begin. I think you'd be surprised just how similar their lives are to yours when you were that young. Trust me, I've witnessed it again and again. No matter what times they are, the human. human condition is pretty much the same.

I doubt that. When I was there age, I didn't have to worry about the internet and all of that nonsense. Dear me, if someone posted online all the crazy things I did as a teenager, well, I'd be cancelled by tomorrow morning. Oh, come on, John. You weren't that bad at that age. I'd even say you were a little tame. Confused, and yes, a little creeped out, I scrunch up my face.

What do you know about what I was back then? I start to stand up, but she places a hand on my wrist. I feel a coldness like I've never felt before. It's as if heat doesn't exist anymore. The black cloak flashes in my vision again, and I am compelled to sit down. I'm not done, John, Evelyn says as I settled back into the booth. Then she yanks her hand away, and the room warms up once more. Sorry, sorry, I apologize.

I really do. I get carried away sometimes. It must be that passion of yours, I say, trying to smile. Um, sir, I'm sorry to bother you, but can we get boxes for our food? We're trying to make it to a movie. I look up at the woman. It's the tuna melt woman. She looks worried as her eyes keep darting to Evelyn, or to Evelyn's side of the booth.

She doesn't seem to look directly at the young woman, but then Evelyn doesn't look at her either. Her eyes are only on me. Yes, yes, sure, of course. I say, smiling big, because that's customer service. And also, I feel like if I don't smile big, I might scream. Let me get that for you. I get up without looking at Evelyn and hurry to the wait station, where I grab two to-go boxes and carry them over.

I didn't mean to interrupt your break, Tuna Melt says, taking the boxes from me and handing them to her date. Um, were you practicing a speech or something? What? I asked, confused. Um, you know, Talking to yourself in an empty booth? She tries to laugh, but fails and shakes her head.

I'm sorry. I do public speaking, so I was just wondering. Um, no, some customers just need a little hands-on care, as all. Customer? Tuna melt, looks past me. What customer? I look back at Booth 6, and Evelyn gives me a wave. The young woman with the fries and shake, I say, but my voice comes out thinner than I wanted to. She's right there.

Her date stops scraping food into one of the boxes. There's no one there. Hush! The woman says. Um, right. The young woman. She fishes out two 20s from her purse and tosses them on the table. Then she fishes out a 10 and adds that to the 20s.

Thank you for the great food. We're going to sneak it into the theater and finish it there. Ready, Tom? Yeah, definitely. Tom replies quickly. You take care of yourself, all right? Don't work too hard. The woman says as she gets up,

and walks toward the front door. You folks have a good evening, I say. Enjoy the movie. Evelyn waves at them as they pass. Neither looks in her direction, and I swear they are both avoiding the booth. They shudder, then pick up their pace, and are gone in seconds.

Sir? One of the teenagers calls out. Can I get a refill on my root beer? Coming right up, kiddo. I call back. The girls laugh and giggle behind their hands, covering their mouths. I know they are laughing at me,

not with me. The kiddo bit gets the teens every time. Doesn't mean it'll up my chances of a decent tip, but it makes their night, so I like to play into it. I refill all of their drinks. Evelyn watches me the entire time. How about we finish our talk? She asks, when I reluctantly come by the booth to check on her because that's my job, whether I'd like it or not. I'm talked out and can't take more time. Sorry, I say. How's the shake? Delicious as always. As always, best shakes around in my experience, they never disappoint. Um, you've been in before? A few times.

Can't say that I've seen you here, and you seem like someone I wouldn't forget. I can blend in when I want to, she says and points at the seat across from her. Just one more question, please. Glancing back at the kitchen window, I see that Gill isn't there, probably getting a leg up on the cleaning, since all the orders have been made and delivered. Just one more, I promise, Evelyn says. The teen girls are laughing and tossing soggy fries at each other. Great, I'll be cleaning that up for no tip.

One more, I say and sit. What's your question? She looks back at the girls and over at me. Which one of those girls do you think has the most promising future? Those girls? I don't know them. But you have life experience. Drawing from that, knowing what you know.

Which one has the most promising? promising future. I don't know. Really. She laughs and looks down at the table. When she looks back up, the disguise slips. The pretty face is gone. All I see is a dark hood and red eyes, and I hear a choir and screaming, and all the voices of the world asking and begging for just a little more time. I feel the coldness of it all, and I know that tonight, tonight, I may not make it home. Tonight, this is it. Tonight death is going to take me, because it's my time and Her hand touches mine, and it all goes quiet. I know, John, it's scary getting older.

Trust me. Watching people age is something I am very, very experienced with. I just need an answer from you. One quick answer. Who are you? Hey, John! Gil calls from the kitchen. Quit talking to yourself and come help me with the grease trap for a minute, will you?

It's all right, Evelyn says. Go help him. But could you answer my question first? Then I promise to leave you alone. I stand up quickly and smooth out my uniform. Um, the mustard girl. She's the one. I don't know why I say it.

It's a feeling. I definitely don't know why I play along with this woman, because everything about her is a giant red flag. Thank you, she says, and I walk back to the kitchen. What's up with you tonight? Gil asks as he stands over by the friars and a little hatch to the diner's grease trap. You feeling all right? Um, fine.

Just dealing with a weird customer. Who? The guy with a Rubin? He hasn't looked up from his book all night. No. The woman in Booth 6, fries and the butterscotch milkshake. What are you talking about? I thought that was for you.

You've been sitting in front of that food for a few minutes now. You ain't eating it, I'll give you that. So if it's for someone else, you're doing a great job of saving it. He laughs. I force one. Then I help him lift the lid to the grease trap. The smell makes me back. away quickly.

I'll leave you to it, I say. Gonna give the girls their check. Good idea, he says. But I can tell he barely heard me. His focus is on the close to overflowing grease trap. Son of a bitch, how does it get so full so fast? I tally the girls up and deliver their check. Of course, they all want to pay separately.

I almost say no, but then I think of all the servers I annoyed when I was their age, and just smile and go back to the wait station to sort of, out the handful of bank cards I've been handed. When I return, they all sign and get up in a hurry. Thanks, thanks. Thanks. Thanks. Thanks. Thank you. Sorry if we made a mess. Mustard girl says. She hangs back a second longer than the others, gathering two of the baskets her friends left behind. That's all right, I tell her. You girls have fun tonight and be safe, okay? We will. Thank you. I gather up dishes into a pile, then crouch and start picking up thrown fries. When I stand back up, I almost shout.

Evelyn is out of her booth and leaning in close to Mustard Girl, whispering in her ear while her friends race out to an old Jeep parked in front of the diner. They hop in and start honking the horn for Mustard Girl. Evelyn Pat's Mustard Girl on the shoulder, then walks out of the diner and over to the Jeep. Hey! I call. You didn't pay! Mustard Girl turns and frowns at me.

What? We just paid. She rubs her head. Um, I need to ask you something. but I can't remember what. Her words are cut off as the sound of a revving engine, then screeching brakes fills the air, followed by the most horrendous crashing noise. The Jeep hadn't even made it out of the parking lot

when a semi-truck jumped the curb from the street and slammed into it from behind. The impact shoved the Jeep straight through the diner's front windows, sending glass bursting inward across the floor. There's nothing but glass and smoke and crying and shouting in fire, and I hear Gil calling my name, and he's grabbing me, helping me to my feet, Then he's running to mustard girl to help her to her feet.

But I barely see that, because all I can see are the dead eyes of the teen girls in the Jeep. Dead eyes. All of them. For a second, my brain refuses to understand the shapes inside that Jeep as people. They had been laughing five minutes ago, throwing fries, asking for refills. Now there is only silence where all that noise used to be. And out in the parking lot, standing just behind the wreckage, is Evelyn. At least, it is for a second. Then the shape of her begins to stretch and darken.

The curve of her shoulders broadens. Her long hair lifts in the smoke like ash caught in a breeze, then disappears beneath a black hood. The pretty face I'd been staring at all night folds into shadow, leaving only two red eyes burning inside the darkness. What stands there now is no young woman. It is a man in a long black cloak, tall and impossibly thin, with one pale hand wrapped around the handle of a scythe.

Death looks at me. Then he waves. the sleeve of his cloak, drifting back and forth in the smoke. He gives me a slow wink with one red eye. He rests the scythe across his shoulder and walks off into the night. I look at Mustard Girl and wonder what kind of future waits for someone who was supposed to die, but didn't. I hope it's something amazing.

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