Keys of Fate Part Eight
Keys of Fate
A Story in Serial - Part Eight
This is part eight of the serial story I’m currently writing. If you have not read the story from the beginning, you might want to go check out part one first. Click here to read it now. This is a story you get to help me write by providing your feedback in the comments or by sending me a message through my Contact page . If I like your ideas, they might just end up in the story, or I might name one of the characters after you!Part Eight:The Waiter
Viggo concentrated all of his focus on his reflection in the smeared surface of the napkin holder. He counted to three as he inhaled through his nose, held his breath for three seconds, then exhaled on another three count, paused, and then exhaled at the same tempo.
The door of the diner hadn’t opened, but he knew that someone had left. Abaddon had left; he knew, but he didn’t know how he knew. Now he was holding a coffee mug in his hand again. The glass of water was gone or had never been there, and his mind was racing. He fixed his eyes on his reflection, trying to look beyond it and focus on his breathing. Carol had shown him how to do this during one of their evenings together. He’d felt better. She always made him feel better.
Guilt broke his concentration and he was covered from head to toe with the same tingling sensation, the overwhelming fear of being caught. Lisa would find out, and everything would be so much worse. He was going to lose her, but he didn’t need a demon to whisper this in his ear; he knew it was true.
He squeezed his eyes shut and felt his breath shaking as it escaped his open mouth. That was worse. Behind his eyelids, in the dark, everything was worse. He opened his eyes and saw his reflection in the napkin holder. He hated it; it was the image of shame. He looked down and saw the mug in his hand, the mug that had become a glass; the coffee that had become water. The voices were there again, telling him he’d imagined it all. He was going insane, they said. She’s going to find out, they said. Everything will be ruined. He felt his heart pounding and his vision blurred. The worst was coming, and his rapid breaths wouldn’t stop it. Nothing stopped it, and it was worse every time. He begged himself not to let it come.
“Breathe.”
Viggo gasped and pushed back from the table. His chair scraped across the floor. He clutched his chest and nearly yelled. The waiter was in the chair across from him. Viggo swallowed hard and opened his mouth to say something, but the waiter held up a hand.
“Calm down, and breathe.”
Viggo lowered his hand from his chest and grasped the edge of the table. Without looking away from the mesmerizing eyes of the waiter, he pulled his chair forward with an awkward scraping sound, slow and loud. He never looked away as he reached out, pulled a napkin from the holder, and then dabbed up the bit of coffee that must have spilled when he’d been startled. The waiter didn’t blink. He set the napkin to the side without paying attention. He thought it might have fallen to the floor, thought the waiter might have glanced to the side and watched it fall. They sat that way for what seemed like several minutes to Viggo, but he told himself it was just a few seconds. Then the waiter spoke.
“I brought your toast.” He slid a plate across the table to the side of the napkin holder and the condiment basket. Viggo looked at the plate and saw toast, eggs, and bacon. When he looked back up, the waiter was smiling. “Figured you could use a little more than just toast. Complimentary.”
Viggo pulled the plate in front of himself. “How do you know my name?”
The waiter smiled again. “You should eat. You have many challenges ahead, and you’ll need your strength.”
Viggo nodded. “You’re not a waiter, are you?”
The waiter laughed. “Right now I am. I’m a servant to those in need.”
“You made them go away?” The waiter gave no response, verbal or physical. “Do you know why I’m here? What brought me here?” The waiter nodded and the smile vanished from his face.
Viggo picked up the silverware wrapped in a napkin and unfolded it. He pulled out a fork and took a few light stabs at the eggs. He looked at the plate, then back up at the waiter, who nodded again and motioned toward the plate. Viggo took a bite and chewed it slowly. He heard himself chewing, heard the swallow. Awkward and wet.
“I had to tell her something.”
The waiter took a deep breath and Viggo heard him exhale. “Yes you did, but you made it worse. You opened this door.” The waiter finally blinked and looked down at his folded arms.
“What’s gonna happen?” Viggo asked through another mouthful of eggs.
The waiter shrugged and stood. “When she gets here, you’ll find out.”
Viggo let his fork drop to the plate. “Lisa’s coming here?”
The waiter nodded. “Yes, but that’s not for you to worry about right now. That’s not why you’re here. Eat your food, Viggo, and then go do what you must. She’ll be here when you get back.”
Viggo looked away and found his reflection in the napkin holder. He took a deep breath; in: one, two, three.
To be continued…
If you enjoyed this rough draft, you might also enjoy my finished works in the Journey of Fate series. Check out the prequel short story now, for free, by signing up for the mailing list!
