Streetlamp Stories

Best viewed alone at night.

Original short stories. Visually driven creative writing with a focus on the strange and unexpected.

THE AIRPORT

“Please seat yourself,” said the sign, so the young traveler did, setting down his suitcase and placing his backpack in the chair across from him. He looked over the menu, confirming that the restaurant did serve a lobster roll, and sat back. The middle-aged waitress took his order for a beer, and before he could request his food, she disappeared.

Impatient, the youth drummed his fingers while he tried to catch the waitress’s eye, but she decided to serve two men who had just entered instead.

“Is your chowder thick or thin?” he overheard. “Because I like a thinner chowder myself.” The server explained, at length, that the chowder was, in fact, on the thicker side, but she could put in a request with the chef to thin it out. The conversation went on for far longer than necessary, building the youth’s frustration.

Finally, the waitress returned, and the youth asked for a lobster roll and the check. He tuned out the men at the next table by reading the day’s news.

His meal arrived with a plate of hot fresh fries. Annoyance dissipating, he contentedly worked on his food and beer. The profound hunger earned along the journey began to fade.

With the lobster halfway to the young man’s mouth, a deafening explosion rocked the terminal. Coarse dust filled the air. The coughs and screams of his fellow travelers slowly replaced the ringing in his ears. As he gazed around thoughtfully, the restaurant spewed its occupants into the concourse. Alarms had begun to blare, and panicked people ran past. With a hair-raising squeal of rending metal, he thought he heard part of the terminal collapse.

The young man turned back to his plate and took another bite. Security personnel were screaming about calmness and controlled evacuation over the PA system. But the lobster roll was dipped in butter and ingested.

Sighing, the traveler sat back and wiped his mouth. He noted that the check had never made it to his table. “There’s no such thing as a free lunch,” he thought derisively. His belongings collected, he set off to see when he could expect to catch the surely delayed flight.

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