Chapter One: Margaret's Coffee Shop

Alice Beasley briskly shuffled into Margret’s Coffee Shop, desperate to escape the rain invading the streets of New York City. As she entered, Alice removed the hood of her brightly colored raincoat, pulling her long, dark brown hair loose from her collar, and draped the jacket over her arm. She made her way to an empty table, quickly placing her briefcase on the seat across from her, hanging her jacket on it as well, and retrieving her laptop. Alice opened her laptop and carefully placed her fingers on the keyboard, hoping to bring forth some inspiration.

Alice had recently fallen into some sort of rut. She diagnosed herself with a severe case of writer’s block. It had been a whole month since she’d written anything of any significance in her novel. She figured a change of scenery might cure her disease, so she settled at the coffee shop, where the atmosphere was relaxed and calm, a haven of peace hidden just within the bustling streets of NYC.

Alice hastily ordered a frappuccino, vanilla flavored, hardly consisting of any coffee, because she very much disliked the taste of such a beverage, and sipped it as she shrunk into thought. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs, which was officially deemed her “thinking position.”

Sophie gripped her flashlight with clammy hands, a thin line of sweat collecting on her forehead. The young woman’s anxiety sky-rocketed when a faint tapping noise echoed throughout the tunnel, followed by a scurry that was nearly inaudible.

Sophie gulped and tightened her grasp on the flashlight. Someone was out there, hiding, awaiting the right moment to emerge and-

Alice sighed and connected her index finger with the delete button on her keyboard. Unsatisfactory work didn’t belong in her stories. She simply couldn’t capture the suspense she desired in her story.

Suddenly the chiming of a small bell on the door signaled the arrival of a new customer in the shop. Alice briefly broke her focus on her story to observe them.

The new customer was somewhat frightening. He was tall, at least six feet tall, with broad shoulders. The majority of his figure was shrouded by a droopy black cloak, it’s baggy hood casting a shadow over the man’s face, leaving his facial features up to the imagination. Upon his entrance, it was as if the entire shop’s inhabitants inhaled deeply, and held their freshly drawn breath as they studied the mysterious man with interest. The air appeared heavy with unasked and unanswered questions.

The mystery man took a single, dramatic step forward, elongated by the swooping motion made by his feet. This man seemed to move about as if he were Jesus himself, gracefully walking on water. His gaze seemed to fixate on Alice, though she couldn’t confirm the speculation, for the hood of the man’s cloak still veiled his entire face.

The atmosphere was no longer relaxed, but timid and anxious. In the corner of her eye, Alice peered at the strangers who surrounded her. At two in the afternoon, the shop was lacking inhabitants. A woman who appeared to be in her thirties sat with a gaping mouth, her fingers tightly gripping her coffee cup, seemingly unable to escape the mysterious trance of the newest customer. Another customer, a man flamboyant in body language and appearance, kept his eyes on the cloaked man, while sipping his coffee nonchalantly. The employee of the shop, stationed at the payment counter, was no longer occupied by boredom, but quite intrigued by the new customer.

No sound was made, the man’s ghoulish presence clearly unsettling. He made no sound whatsoever as he began to gradually make his way towards Alice, triggering another sharp inhale through everyone in the shop. Each step he took was enveloped in perplexity, but he remained alert, as if he was awaiting a pin to drop, it’s fall to the polished floor producing enough sound to spook him and send him running. Yet, at the same time, the man’s physical demeanor suggested that he was determined, and intent on reaching his destination, Alice’s table.

Alice found herself leaning as far back in her chair as was possible, shriveling away from the dark man’s presence as he came nearer. Finally he stopped moving completely, frozen in place. His long, slender fingers, Alice noticed, remained at his sides, and he did not slouch. Even his posture was eerie.

Who was this man?