u/GrimmaldPlace

Yeah there’s no way to sugarcoat this… I’m looking for some insight on these strange events. Some responses are bound to be.. skeptical… and that’s completely understandable. But, I don’t have the luxury of waiting to find out more in due time.

So. Here is an account of some things. If you know what’s up, can you please share your thoughts?

It begins with a normal day at work: I arrive at a Starbucks on south street in Philadelphia for my mid shift. I’m standing off to the side with the morning shift supervisor, discussing what needs to be done for the day. Meanwhile, customers stand in line to order… drinks are being made, steam wands hissing in the mid morning bustle…. The man in line at the register is tall, about 50 years old or older and … odd ….
He keeps looking at me, instead of ordering.
Likewise, I am starting to notice and be drawn, from my conversation, to this older man. Finally he looks into my eyes and calls my name clear as day.

In the deafening strangeness
I answer, “Can I help you?”

Everything feels singular for one hinging moment. I’m not even wearing my apron yet… no name tag. Then, the man simply asks to borrow a pen. I hear the noise of the cafe return in a rush, louder than ever. He takes the receipt from his order, writes on the back of it, and hands me my pen with a thank you.

The strangeness fades. I count in the tills, assign tasks…. I walk up to Andrew at the registers and joke “can we talk about that weird guy?”

Suddenly, there he is again! The man is standing, impossibly, in front of us long after he had left… or so I thought. He reaches across the counter to hand me a folded receipt. I open it to reveal one scribbled X written in my own pen, willingly lent.

I honestly just keep thinking of Muppets Treasure Island when someone mutters *“Black Spot, Black Spot”*

….

A couple hours later my buddy arrives to pick up his closing shift. We all join in the retelling and Sean shakes his head. “Weird things happen to you” he laughs,

A woman bursts into the shop then, bothered, and we all turn our attention to her. “Who is in Charge here? “ She demands.
I am.
I ask what I can do for her and she deflates…
“I don’t know how to tell you this,” she says, “but someone just left a dead bird in front of your store.”
All eyes turn to me.

Looking at the bird, it’s pretty obvious this is a fresh kill. I don’t mean “flown into the glass door” but more like, a pretty cleanly broken neck with a few drops of ruby red blood on the sidewalk. I dont touch it.

….

The events of this day had us all twittering and sure enough, when the final barista arrived for our closing shift we wanted to bring them up to speed. A man in line eavesdrops, interjecting, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but listen… but tell me, do you still have that paper?”

As weird as the day was, this was still getting weirder for us.
I pull out the receipt.
After a long look, he says, “I think I can fix this”
He dug around in his biker bag for a minute before shaking out a silver paint pen. Painstakingly, he encircles the x completely, blows on it, and hands it to me reassuringly.
“I think this will help.”

So, reader, does it? What happened? What did the first man intend? What is the purpose of the bird? Did the circle help???

There is a second, darker half of this story but I am reluctant to tell it. I’d prefer first thoughts from anyone knowledgeable in this sort of … Thing. Suffice it to say: there are many more dead birds and strange things in the year to come after this first event.

Yeah there’s no way to sugarcoat this… I’m looking for some insight on these strange events. Some responses are bound to be.. skeptical… and that’s completely understandable. But, I don’t have the luxury of waiting to find out more in due time.

So. Here is an account of some things. If you know what’s up, can you please share your thoughts?

It begins with a normal day at work: I arrive at a Starbucks on south street in Philadelphia for my mid shift. I’m standing off to the side with the morning shift supervisor, discussing what needs to be done for the day. Meanwhile, customers stand in line to order… drinks are being made, steam wands hissing in the mid morning bustle…. The man in line at the register is tall, about 50 years old or older and … odd ….
He keeps looking at me, instead of ordering.
Likewise, I am starting to notice and be drawn, from my conversation, to this older man. Finally he looks into my eyes and calls my name clear as day.

In the deafening strangeness
I answer, “Can I help you?”

Everything feels singular for one hinging moment. I’m not even wearing my apron yet… no name tag. Then, the man simply asks to borrow a pen. I hear the noise of the cafe return in a rush, louder than ever. He takes the receipt from his order, writes on the back of it, and hands me my pen with a thank you.

The strangeness fades. I count in the tills, assign tasks…. I walk up to Andrew at the registers and joke “can we talk about that weird guy?”

Suddenly, there he is again! The man is standing, impossibly, in front of us long after he had left… or so I thought. He reaches across the counter to hand me a folded receipt. I open it to reveal one scribbled X written in my own pen, willingly lent.

I honestly just keep thinking of Muppets Treasure Island when someone mutters “Black Spot, Black Spot”

….

A couple hours later my buddy arrives to pick up his closing shift. We all join in the retelling and Sean shakes his head. “Weird things happen to you” he laughs,

A woman bursts into the shop then, bothered, and we all turn our attention to her. “Who is in Charge here? “ She demands.
I am.
I ask what I can do for her and she deflates…
“I don’t know how to tell you this,” she says, “but someone just left a dead bird in front of your store.”
All eyes turn to me.

Looking at the bird, it’s pretty obvious this is a fresh kill. I don’t mean “flown into the glass door” but more like, a pretty cleanly broken neck with a few drops of ruby red blood on the sidewalk. I dont touch it.

….

The events of this day had us all twittering and sure enough, when the final barista arrived for our closing shift we wanted to bring them up to speed. A man in line eavesdrops, interjecting, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but listen… but tell me, do you still have that paper?”

As weird as the day was, this was still getting weirder for us.
I pull out the receipt.
After a long look, he says, “I think I can fix this”
He dug around in his biker bag for a minute before shaking out a silver paint pen. Painstakingly, he encircles the x completely, blows on it, and hands it to me reassuringly.
“I think this will help.”

So, reader, does it? What happened? What did the first man intend? What is the purpose of the bird? Did the circle help???

There is a second, darker half of this story but I am reluctant to tell it. I’d prefer first thoughts from anyone knowledgeable in this sort of … Thing.