The rain drizzled steadily on the quiet streets of Bellhaven, a small town nestled between endless fields and dense woodlands. It was the kind of place where people knew each other, and nothing truly unusual ever happened—until that night.
Elias Mercer, a traveling journalist, had arrived in town just before dusk. He was on an assignment, researching urban legends in remote locations. Accompanying him was his photographer, Valerie Henshaw, whose sharp instincts made her an invaluable partner. The two had been driving for hours and were in desperate need of food when they spotted a small restaurant at the edge of town—Maison de Lune.
The lights were on, the sign flickered softly, and the inviting aroma of food wafted through the air. But there was one odd thing about it.
It was completely empty.
The Restaurant That Shouldn’t Exist
Elias and Valerie stepped inside, shaking off the rain. The restaurant was elegant yet eerie—mahogany tables, dim candlelight, and classical music playing from an unseen source. There was no sign of a chef, no waiters, no patrons.
Valerie glanced around. “You sure this place is open?”
Elias nodded toward the counter where an old-fashioned bell sat. He rang it once, the chime echoing unnaturally through the space.
A moment later, a woman appeared from the kitchen, dressed in a vintage black-and-white uniform. Her pale skin contrasted sharply with her deep-set, hollow eyes. She smiled politely, though something about it felt…wrong.
“Welcome to Maison de Lune,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please, have a seat.”
A Meal Like No Other
They settled at a table near the window, watching the rain intensify. The waitress, who never introduced herself, placed menus in front of them.
Elias scanned the list. There were no prices. Just descriptions:
- Velouté du Crépuscule – A soup of the twilight, rich with forgotten flavors.
- L’agneau de Minuit – Lamb prepared with midnight’s touch.
- Dessert des âmes – A sweet offering for lingering spirits.
Valerie raised an eyebrow. “This reads more like a poem than a menu.”
Elias smirked. “It’s probably some kind of gimmick. Might as well try it.”
The waitress returned, standing unnervingly still. “What will you have?”
They ordered the soup and lamb. The waitress nodded and disappeared again, her footsteps silent.
The Unsettling Atmosphere
Minutes passed. There was no sound from the kitchen. No clinking pots, no sizzling oil. Just the steady hum of rain against the window.
Valerie exhaled sharply. “Something about this place is off. How is there no one else here?”
Elias tapped his fingers on the table. “I was just thinking the same thing. Maybe it’s one of those experimental restaurants? You know, where the eerie experience is part of the meal.”
Valerie wasn’t convinced. She reached for her camera instinctively but hesitated. The air felt heavier, as though something unseen was pressing against them.
Then, the waitress returned with their food.
A Taste of the Unknown
The soup was a deep, rich color, swirling with golden flecks. The lamb was plated exquisitely, its aroma intoxicating. It looked…perfect.
Elias took a bite of the lamb. The moment it touched his tongue, he shuddered. It was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. But something was wrong.
Valerie hesitated before trying the soup. The first spoonful sent a jolt down her spine. It wasn’t just food—it was memory. Flashes of forgotten moments played in her mind, like fragments of a dream.
She dropped the spoon. “What the hell was that?”
Elias looked pale, gripping the edge of the table. “It’s like…I just relived a childhood moment I barely remember.”
The waitress stood motionless. “The cuisine here is…special.”
Her voice was softer now, almost distant. Her smile had widened ever so slightly.
The Truth Revealed
The unease in the room grew. Valerie glanced at the entrance—had it always been that far away?
Elias felt a sharp pang in his head. Images flashed before his eyes: a candlelit room, a long table, and figures draped in shadow, whispering in an ancient tongue.
“Who owns this place?” Elias managed to ask.
The waitress tilted her head. “The restaurant has always been here. It waits for those who are…hungry.”
Valerie’s breath hitched. “We need to leave.”
The waitress took a step closer. “But you haven’t finished your meal.”
The lights flickered. The restaurant no longer looked inviting—it looked ancient, its walls pulsating as though alive. Shadows pooled in the corners, stretching toward them.
Elias grabbed Valerie’s wrist. “Run.”
Escape or Entrapment?
They bolted for the door, but the restaurant stretched endlessly. The windows now showed only darkness—no rain, no town, just an abyss.
The waitress did not chase them. She simply stood, her face unreadable. “You must pay for what you’ve consumed.”
Elias fumbled in his pockets. “We have money—”
She shook her head. “Not that kind of payment.”
Valerie turned, searching desperately for another exit. Then she noticed something horrifying.
The tables weren’t empty anymore.
Figures sat at them, motionless. Their faces were blurred, indistinct. They were diners who had come before. Trapped.
“Elias, don’t stop!” Valerie yanked him toward what used to be the exit. The door loomed before them, shifting as though uncertain of its own existence.
With a final desperate push, they stumbled through—
The Aftermath
They found themselves outside, rain still falling. But the restaurant—
It was gone.
No building, no sign, nothing. Just an empty lot, overgrown with weeds.
Elias clutched his head. His body ached, his stomach churned. He turned to Valerie. “Did that just happen?”
Valerie checked her camera, hoping for proof.
The photos were blank.
Only one image remained. A single frame, distorted, showing the waitress’s hollow eyes staring directly at them.
The memory of the food lingered on their tongues, a taste of something beyond understanding.
Somewhere in the night, a whisper echoed—
“Come again soon.”
