Choycewood

For the first time in hours, there was finally something on the horizon. Just a single building, but Choyce would take anything over the ocean of green nothingness around her. A sign stood tall and proud over the small building though she couldn’t make out the name yet. The closer she got, however, the further it seemed to get. It was like it was shy and didn’t want to be looked at. Choyce could understand that.
Pulling into the restaurant with the shy sign, they girl stumbled out of her car and stretched. Blood rushed into her numb legs. It had been hours and hours since she had last stopped. Even picking up the strange and meaty had felt like an eternity ago.
Her head ached as she thought of them, and she rubbed her temples as she walked. She felt strange like she was out of phase with life. Food would probably help. Some eggs and bacon fix just about everything.
Stepping in Choyce found the place to be very poorly lit, and everything was either made of wood or covered in wood. At least it smelled nice. The whole place smelled like sweet maple. It smelled delicious, and her mouth watered at the thought of getting something tasty in whatever was her stomach now. She was still getting used to her new organs. And her breath still stank like a morgue.
A sign sat in front of the door, proclaiming “Please seat yourself!” with a big smiley face welcomed her. Inviting herself in she looked around at the other patrons. There were several. Such as a woman with a large hand for a head with a thumb at each side. It was balled in a fist. A pile of pancakes sat at the bar, digging into a pile of raw and bloody meat. Was that a finger in that mess? There was a large snake that had a glow about it, coiled in both booths of its table due to its size. There were even a few tired looking truckers, sipping coffee and chatting quietly together. It was nice to have friends like that, Choyce assumed. Especially since they were all conjoined at the head.
She sat herself down, and immediately the waitress came. Well, it sort of came. The waitress was more of a concept, an idea of sorts. But when the conceptual thought of the waitress approached her table it placed some food down on the table with some coffee and walked away.
Choyce wished she had gotten to order her own food, but she didn’t mind. It was exactly what she was hungry for. A pile of scrambled eggs and steaming bacon strips. She picked up her fork and began eating at once.
The food was indescribably delicious, so we won’t bother analyzing how she enjoyed the tastes and exquisite textures of her meal.
Finishing off the last bites of her food, she realized that the restaurant was much more occupied than she had realized. Plastered on the walls, as if they were sitting in the booths, were shadows. At least twenty of them. Enjoying the greasy food and conversation just as the more physical patrons were.
Taking a sip of coffee, she felt that this was strange. She didn’t say such a thing out loud though. That would be rude.
The woman with the hand for a head stood from her table. She was dressed like an adventurer in a fantasy book. Sword and all. Choyce felt jealous. It was such a cool look. With another sip of her coffee, she watched as the stranger's hand head opened up. The fingers uncurled, the knuckles popping, and a large, single blue eye was revealed in the center of the palm. The pale iris swiveled around wildly before it settled on Choyce.
Walking over to her, the woman asked, “Do you mind if I sit with you?”
Choyce felt befuddled. Never before had anyone asked to sit with her in her life.
“Really? That’s kind of strange that you to want to sit with a complete stranger.”
The eye squinted at her suspiciously.
“That’s what you think is strange?” the woman asked.
“Yeah?” Choyce said. She was starting to feel very nervous. Like a long lingering fear and anxiety was poking its head out of the surface of her mind. “Do you normally just go up to people and ask to sit with them?”
The woman stared at her.
Choyce began to feel flustered. She realized she was being rude.
“I’m sorry, please, have a seat,” she told the strange stranger.
The woman sat across from her and didn’t break eye contact. Choyce began to feel more anxious as this random woman stared her down.
“I’m Eliza,” the woman finally said, extending a hand. The one attached her arms. Not the one on her neck.
“Its uh, nice to meet you. I’m Choyce,” the girl replied as she took the hand and shook it.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Eliza inquired as she broke the handshake and leaned forward.
Choyce shook her head, “No, I’m from Kansas City, Missouri side. I’m just going to Denver.”
Eliza squinted at her again before speaking, “Kansas City, huh? Why are you going to Denver?”
Her mind went blank. Why had she decided to go to Denver? Something about anger? No, that couldn’t be right. What would she get mad about? So she simply answered, “I just felt like it I suppose.”
Her new companion tilted her head. In the single large eye, Choyce could see worry.
“You really shouldn’t be here,” Eliza whispered, but seemingly to herself.
The young woman felt insulted.
“What do you mean? I can be anywhere I want to be.”
Shaking her head, Eliza leaned in closer, “You don’t understand. You REALLY don’t belong here. Think. Does any of this seem normal to you? Look at me. Really look at me. Is this normal?”
Choyce stared into the single eye of the woman across from her and thought.
And she thought. And she thought. And she thought.
“…Yeeess?” she offered after about a minute.
Eliza groaned and slapped her hands on her head. Choyce almost laughed, thinking it was like a double high five. But she didn’t laugh. That would be rude. The last thing she wanted was to be rude.
“Alright,” Eliza said, “OK. Maybe it isn’t too late. Look at me again.”
She obliged and met eyes with the stranger.
“Am I normal?” the woman asked her.
Honestly, she would assume so. Who was Choyce to say that the other woman was or wasn’t normal?
She was about to say Eliza was normal when something in her mind clicked. Like a light switch that had been stuck in the off position.
No, the woman sitting across from her wasn’t normal. While she may be nice, she was physically horrifying. As were the other patrons. One by one Choyce became more afraid, more aware, of what had been happening and how completely not normal and terrifying actually was. The diner, the hitchhiker, the doctor, none of it was normal.
Oh god, the doctor. Choyce remembered her operation and what the man, no, not a man. She remembered what that thing had done to her.
She vomited onto the table, sending chunks of egg, bacon, and coffee all over the table. Tears were in her eyes and horror was in her chest. Nothing was alright, nothing was making sense. A drop of something black fell from her nose.
Eliza reached over across the table and grabbed her, “Calm down, please,” she said urgently, “You have to keep acting like you were. This place isn’t safe for you. They’ll know.”
“What do you mean?” Choyce sobbed quietly, struggling to keep her composure.
“Is everything well?” a new voice said.
Choyce looked up, wiping her mouth and eyes to see something tall, obscure and squirming. Whatever it was, it was wearing a bright yellow polo shirt with a name tag that read out MANAGER.
“Yes, sorry, I’m afraid my friend has a weak stomach,” Eliza answered for her.
“That’ll getcha. I’ll have someone come by to clean up and I’ll get you some…” the manager trailed off. Its attention seemed affixed to Choyce’s nose.
Another drop slid down her cheek.
Immediately the slimy and writhing form of the manager was on her, throttling her. Her body was somewhat broad and muscular. Being on the football team last year was to thank for that. Still, this buffer between Choyce and the manager did little to help.
She screamed.
A sword stabbed at the space between the attack and sliced upwards. It cut the manager in half effortlessly. Eliza was standing on the table, all in the gross mess, and held out a hand to Choyce, “We have to go!”
Choyce took her hand, crying. She was lead quickly out the restaurant as the other patrons rose from their chairs. They didn’t seem friendly in the slightest. The air was hostile and vile. No more was the smell of sweet maple.
“Which car is yours?” Eliza asked.
Pointing it out, the stranger led her to her car and helped her into the passenger seat. The woman with a hand, A HAND, for a head slid over the hood of the car and popped open the driver side door. She tossed her sword in the back and held out a hand.
“I need the keys.”
Choyce scrambled for the keys in her pocket as the crowd spilled out from the restaurant. The shadows were massive now. And pulsing. And angry.
They were surrounded quickly as keys changed hands. Starting the car, Eliza floored the gas and ran over the truckers that were conjoined at the head. Thankfully the wipers were able to get rid of most of the blood that resulted from the collision.
The two sped down the highway, of what looked like the plains of Kansas but Choyce knew they it wasn’t.
A black drop fell from her nose.