Night Shift


“Hi, did you find everything you needed?” Christine asked, as she’d been trained, as two shadowy figures pushed their shopping cart into her lane.  Neither responded, just began loading their items onto the conveyor belt with cold, robotic precision.

Christine shrugged; she preferred the customers who pretended she didn’t exist to the ones that were outright nasty.  Working the late-night shift at SuperStore, she’d met some interesting characters to say the least.

Did you get the shovel?” The taller man said to his companion, who meekly shook his head no.   He scurried away, returning shortly with the item.  It was then that Christine took a hard look at what they were buying.  Extra-large garbage bags, limestone, lantern flashlights, industrial-strength bleach, and now a shovel.  And of course, they were paying cash.

“Doing some gardening?”  Christine asked, hoping her shaking hands would go unnoticed.

“No,” the tall one, apparently the only one who spoke, said plainly, not meeting her eyes.

She watched as they carried their purchases outside, passing through the parking lot and crossing the street into the dense woods.  She put her hand on the phone next to her register, wondering if there was anything she could do.

For Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner and the Daily Post.


13 thoughts on “Night Shift

    1. Ha! Yes, people who buy what basically amounts to a how to get rid of a dead body checklist at the local Walmart probably aren’t the brightest criminals.

      Thanks for reading.

  1. I would be suspicious too! It would be too risky to follow them and how would you explain calling the police because of a purchase made and them walking into the woods? Great story.

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