The previous downpour had mellowed into a soft shower. Big fat droplets still clung to the windows of the cafe, making it seem all the more tranquil. All the other employees had already gone home for the night, yet there I was still wiping off the granite countertop. Technically, I was supposed to be in Florida with my best friends right then. I was stuck here, at my job, over spring break. Being a senior in high school was no picnic.
I looked up to meet the eyes of the cafe’s remaining patron. She was a girl, a little shorter than I, and had long blonde hair that tumbled over her shoulders. As far as I could tell, she came here often. I was pretty sure that her name was Anice Charleston.“We’re closing in ten minutes,” I whispered to her, plopping the dirty rag into the sink.
Anice nodded and folded up the newspaper she had been reading,“It’s about time I headed home anyways. You all aren’t usually opened this late, are you?”
I shook my head. The cafe usually closed around ten, but I had stayed for about two hours  after because some customers had obviously wished to linger around. However, I was still cleaning up after our busy afternoon crowd that day. The place had been left a pigsty, but I had made some considerable progress in scrubbing the cafe down, no thanks to the other staff.
“Aren’t you leaving, too?” Anice whispered as she pushed open the glass door leading out onto the wet sidewalk. I shook my head once more, causing my brunette curls to fall out of my messy bun and into my face. Anice clicked her tongue in disapproval,“Dark Hours. Surely you want to be home by then?”
“I’ll manage,” I sighed, dismissing Anice with a flick of my hand. She stuck her nose in the air and strutted out the door into the sprinkling rain. Now that Anice was gone, the room was dead quiet. I jumped when my elbow bumped the water bucket, causing a hollow, metallic sound to echo throughout the cafe. It was deafening in the eerie silence. As much as I hated to admit it, little Miss Charleston had a point. The Dark Hours would be here soon, and it was imperative that I get home before then. A pile of dirty dishware remained stacked in the sink and the crumbs of cinnamon coffee cakes still coated the floor, but I paid it no attention. I took off my apron as I walked towards the door, and hung it on the coat hanger along with the uniforms of my fellow employees.
My smartphone buzzed in my pocket, indicating that I had recieved a text. I rummaged around until I found my mobile device and hit the ‘slide to unlock’ button before punching in my four digit passcode lock. I tapped iMessages to see who had sent me the message. It was my co-worker and acquaintance, Shelley Button. She had sent me one simple message: ‘r u home yet?’. I didn’t want Shelley to worry about me so I replied: ‘Yes’. I jabbed the send key and watched the message appear on the touch screen. Satisfied, I tucked my phone away and shoved open the door. I knew it would be raining, so I put on my gray jacket over my dress and pulled the hood over my partially tucked up hair. I let the door retract and close on it’s own. I heard the ‘click’ insuring that the cafe was locked before beginning my stroll towards my humble apartment.
I stopped, dead in my tracks, when I heard the telltale bongs of the old clock tower. I didn’t move until all twelve bongs had passed. I felt the urge to dive back into the safety of the coffee shop, but I knew I didn’t have enough time. The thick black thorns had already begun to grow over all the doors in town, trapping me outside. That was the first phase of The Dark Hours. Soon, the monsters and spirits would start to come out. My memory of these creatures was a little fuzzy. The last time I saw The Dark Hours was when I had dared to watch from my bedroom window at the fragile age of seven. I was obviously more mature now. I decided to continue walking to see if I could find a decent place to hide. I cautiously rounded an alley, knowing my efforts were futile. Most people don’t survive The Dark Hours, but the slim few that did survived because they had a good hiding spot. Right now I stood out like a tomato in a bowl of blueberries. I glanced down the end of the gloomy alley to scan for anything that might be interested in snacking on my flesh. I had just determined that there was nothing there, when angry hiss sounded from down the street. Without thinking, I tore down the alley like a little kid running from a shadow in their closet. I didn’t dare to look back or breathe until I reached the end of the alley, which narrowed out into a large junkyard. Laying close to my feet was a dulled axe. I bent over and grasped the wooden handle in the right hand. If I was found by anything, this would become my defense. Slowly, I shuffled behind what used to be a car tire, my sweat dripping down the handle of the rusted weapon. I should’ve listened to that lady inside. Why didn’t I just stay at work?
I stopped inhaling as an ominous scraping sound made it’s way towards me. Whatever that thing was, it was going to get a piece of me.