The Starlight Diner

Jen didn’t believe in The Starlight’s ghost. It didn’t make sense, she thought, for an unassuming, small-town diner to have a resident spirit. In the week she had worked there, she hadn’t witnessed any of the activity her coworkers claimed to experience regularly—doors slamming shut, lights flickering, disembodied voices. She thought the staff was playing games, that it was some hazing ritual to trick new servers into thinking the diner was haunted. Or maybe, she thought, the reason she hadn’t witnessed any paranormal phenomena was because she, unlike her coworkers, didn’t believe in ghosts. She never had.

She had been caught off guard when, during her second shift, Phoebe casually called The Starlight ‘haunted.’

“‘Haunted?’” she had repeated. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Wait—you really haven’t heard?” Phoebe had asked, leaning across the table to stare at her. “I mean, everyone knows about our ghost.”

They had been rolling silverware at a table towards the back, next to a small fan that did little to relieve them of the sticky, summer heat. Jen was uncomfortable with the intensity of Phoebe’s gaze, hoping the flush in her cheeks wasn’t noticeable. She brushed a bead of sweat off her lip and laughed weakly.

“Maybe they thought I wouldn’t take the job if they mentioned it,” she joked.

Phoebe grinned with obvious excitement. “Her name is Bedelia,” she whispered dramatically, “and she was murdered right...here...on this property.”

“Oh. That’s too bad, I guess,” said Jen. She hoped Phoebe would take the hint so she wouldn’t have to express her disinterest outright. She held up a fork and asked, “So, how many of these do we need?”

Phoebe either missed the hint or didn’t care. Silverware forgotten, she leaned in. “Bedelia was married to the mayor, like, a hundred years ago. They say she was having an affair with a local farmer and her husband found out, but the affair was never proven. Still, he spread rumors that she was a witch, and that she would poison the town and seduce all the men. So one night, they dragged Bedelia to the empty lot that used to be here, and they killed her.”

She paused, and Jen realized she was waiting for a reaction. She had been wondering if it was too soon to ask Phoebe to go out for coffee. Embarrassed, she cleared her throat and nodded. “Oh. Wow.”

Thankfully, her lack of enthusiasm went unnoticed. “The lot was empty for decades,” Phoebe continued, “but as soon as they built The Starlight, weird stuff started happening. Doors close on their own, stuff gets moved around…you know, typical haunted house stuff. We always go to the basement in pairs, because the lights go out a lot and it’s really creepy.”

“Sounds spooky.”

“You get used to it. I mean, I still get freaked out when the doors slam shut, but it’s not, like, threatening, you know?”

“Uh huh,” said Jen. “So, have you actually seen anything? I mean, how do you know it’s a ghost and not, like, bad wiring in the lights?”

“No, I haven’t seen her. Only one guy ever has.” Phoebe sounded disappointed.

“Then how do you know there’s a ghost? It could be a bunch of coincidences, or someone messing with you.”

“Look, it’s not wind or wiring or someone fucking with me,” she snapped. “I’ve worked nights here for three years. That’s a long time to commit to a prank, a lot of coincidences. And other people have seen weird shit happen, too.”

“Sorry,” Jen said. “I just don’t believe in ghosts.”

“I’m not crazy,” Phoebe insisted.

“I don’t think you are.” But the damage was done, and they finished rolling silverware in silence. Phoebe avoided small talk for the rest of their shift, and anytime Jen tried to shift the conversation away from work, she was quickly shut down. By the end of the day, she had given up.

Oh, well, she thought. She probably isn’t into girls, anyway.

The next morning, however, Phoebe seemed to have forgiven her. They spent the following days chatting about the best places to eat—not The Starlight, Phoebe said, because the food was exactly what one would expect from a 24-hour diner—and the new record store that was opening down the street. Jen inquired about the best hiking spots and made a playlist of her favorite music to share with Phoebe.

She was also introduced to The Starlight’s regulars: Craig, who came in for a burger after every shift at the refinery; Jocelyn and Henry, a younger couple who came in for late-night dinner once a week; David, who always sat in the same booth and ordered coffee and a slice of pie; and Frank, an elderly gentleman, whose first question upon meeting Jen was, “So, they told ya about the ghost?”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes and smirked at Phoebe from across the diner. “Yes, Phoebe’s told me all about Bedelia,” she said.

He smiled, satisfied. “I’m the only one who ever saw her, ya know.”

“Oh, so you’re the guy who saw her,” Jen said, leaning against the table.

“She doesn’t believe in ghosts, Frank,” Phoebe called. “Don’t bother.”

“Skeptic, huh?” Frank chuckled. “Well, you’ll believe soon enough. Everyone does, eventually. But I won’t bore ya.”

“Well, now I’m curious. What did you see?” she asked, sliding into the booth across from him. “Maybe it’ll change my mind.”

“I saw a damn ghost!” Frank exclaimed. “I used to work here, ya know, back when it first opened up. But we weren’t open all day, like now. I was workin’ the closing shift, and it was just me and one other fella, a young kid named Tony…used to make the best damn malts, even if he was just a kid. He was twenty years younger than me, and he only worked here for a summer, but I tell ya—”

“What about the ghost?” Jen asked gently, hoping to nudge Frank back to the story.

He waved a hand at her. “I’m gettin’ to that. So, like I said, I was here one night with Tony, and we were closin’ up. Just us and a cook, but he was way back in the kitchen, so we were alone up here. I sent Tony down to the basement, to get somethin’…maybe clean rags, for the mornin’ crew…anyway, he went down there and a minute later, the room got real cold. Now, this was thirty-some years ago, and it wasn’t as hot as it was now, but it was a warm July night. But it felt like I was standin’ in a freezer. I turned to the door, thinkin’ maybe the door’d been left open and it’d started rainin’, but no. Closed tight, and locked. I turned back to the counter and I saw her, just standin’ there, pretty gown on. She looked sad. And I could see right through her! I took a step towards her and she looked at me, but then Tony came ‘round the corner and she just vanished. Disappeared. And Tony—well, he hadn’t seen a thing, and thought I was crazy. But eventually, stuff started happenin’, and they all started to believe me. One of the fry cooks, he was real big into history, ya know, and he went out and found an old book about the town, and there she was. Pretty girl in a nightgown, same as I saw behind the counter. She died, right here, hung herself from a tree on the—”

“Now, I always heard she was murdered by her husband for witchcraft.”

Jen jumped. She hadn’t heard Phoebe come up behind her.

“Bullshit!” Frank exclaimed. “She killed herself. It was right there in the book!”

Jen had excused herself and slipped out of the booth. She had to admit that Frank was a good storyteller, but she still didn’t believe The Starlight was haunted, and didn’t want to listen to them argue. Still, she had teased Phoebe about the inconsistencies in their stories later that night.

“Just admit you were kinda spooked,” Phoebe had said. “I saw you jump!”

“I only jumped because you startled me, not because I believe in the ghost of Bedelia.”

Phoebe had just smiled. “You will.” And that had been the end of it.

Now it was Jen’s first shift alone, and Tuesday night was, according to the kitchen, the slowest night of the week. She wished Phoebe were there to keep her company, even if it meant enduring more ghost stories. Desperate to stay busy, she walked through the dining room, wiping down the lacquered tabletops and shredded vinyl booths. She sorted through menus, throwing away the few that were too faded to read, or torn almost in half. The Starlight was falling apart.

“Maybe that’s why everyone thinks it’s haunted,” she muttered. “Because it looks like it is.”

The hours passed slowly. Around two o’clock, there was a table of high school kids, on their way home from the drive-in theater; they ordered enough to keep Jen and the kitchen busy for almost an hour, and when one of the boys asked about Bedelia, she was more than happy to repeat Phoebe’s story.

By four, Jen was ready to go home. The diner was empty again, and the breakfast rush wouldn’t start for another hour. One of the cooks—she couldn’t remember his name, but she thought it was Alex or Alec, something like that—brought her a plate of toast.

“I thought you’d like something edible to eat while you’re still on the clock,” he said.

“Thanks. It’s been boring, just waiting for people to show up.”

“Well, at least you’re not alone up here,” he joked. “You have Bedelia to keep you company.”

Jen groaned. “Not you, too. Does everybody believe in this dumb ghost?”

“Enough weird stuff happens. Found the ice cream scoops in the walk-in earlier tonight.” He shrugged. “I’m not saying it’s true, but I can’t explain everything I’ve seen.”

“Well,” she replied, “I haven’t seen anything yet. So I’m either the sanest person here, or I’m the only one she doesn’t care about enough to haunt.”

“Fair enough. Enjoy your toast and your solitude,” Alex said, laughing as he walked back into the kitchen.

Jen leaned back against the counter and took a bite, lazily flipping through an old tourism magazine she’d found buried in her employee locker on her first day. She was almost done—just thirty-four minutes to kill.

She heard the doorbell chime and ducked below the counter. “Seat yourself,” she called through a mouthful of sourdough. “I’ll be right with you.”

When she stood back up, she faced an empty diner. Probably someone who wasn’t impressed with The Starlight’s melancholy atmosphere and neon signs. She couldn’t blame them.

She popped the last bite of toast into her mouth and turned back to her magazine, but the now-empty plate was the only thing on the countertop. She glanced at her feet, thinking she had knocked it down in her rush to hide, but it wasn’t there. Confused, she turned towards the kitchen. Alex must have taken it, trying to tease her for not believing in Bedelia.

“Very funny, Alex,” she said. “But you can’t scare me that easily.”

There was no reply.

Jen sighed. She was fed up. It was one thing to listen to Phoebe’s silly ghost stories, but she didn’t want to deal with pranks from the kitchen, especially after spending most of the night entertaining herself. She grabbed the empty plate, ready to march into the kitchen and tell them off, but as she stepped out from behind the bar, something stopped her.

The room was suddenly ice cold.