Deep Fried

Mina tries to face down the ghosts of her past but sometimes they're better left forgotten

The shadow of the golden arches fell across the windshield. Mina glanced out the window at the abandoned building. Its distinct logo still sat high upon a peeling pole. How many excited patrons had the restaurant enticed only to break their hearts when they saw the windows and doors boarded up, signs reading ‘Indefinitely closed’?

Her husband noticed her gaze. He reached over and squeezed her leg. “You okay?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t scare me anymore.” If she said it enough, she might believe it too.

“Do you want to go in?”

The thought made her chest tighten. Long-ago screams echoed in her ears. Yet, she nodded.

Brandon pulled the car into the forlorn parking lot, the lines faded into mere patches of paint. The graffiti artists who usually tagged abandoned structures steered clear of the place and the creamy walls remained unmarred.

They got out of the car. Mina stood, holding her arms around her, studying the unimposing establishment. Nothing about the derelict place suggested danger. The hairs standing on edge argued the assessment.
Brandon walked to the trunk to grab a crow-bar.


‘Mina flipped the burgers, grimacing at the sizzle of grease, when someone goosed her. A squeal peeled out of her. With the spatula raised in self-defence, she spun around ot smack her boyfriend’s shoulder.

“What?” The innocent grin on Shane’s face didn’t fool her for a moment.

She shook the cooking utensil at him. “Jerk! That means it’s your turn now!”’


“You okay? We don’t have to go in.” Brandon’s voice interrupted her musing.

Startled by his voice, she jerked back to current times. Fear formed a tight knot in her stomach but she pretend it wasn’t there. She could do this. Chanting the mantra in her mind, she took a few steps towards restaurant. A sharp shriek pierced the air. When she glanced back at Brandon, he gave no indication her heard it.

Too many memories happened here and they were leaking into her reality.


‘He didn’t even bother wearing a mask. The police later shared they thought he planned on killing everyone there. Nathan, an employee who got fired for harassing the children in the playground, pulled a gun from his hip and she could see at least one more strapped against his chest, under his jacket.

Customers started screaming, running for the door. The first woman who touched the handle collapsed with a gunshot through her back. Everyone else fell back, afraid to move with their eyes locked on him.

He turned the gun to Carrie, who was managing the front counter.

Her hands flew into the air and she backed up. “Please, Nathan, I have a little girl.”

His lips scowled and he twitched his finger. The thunder of the shot filled the restaurant. Her blood and bits of brain sprayed the shake machine behind her.

Sobs and screams rose in volume until Nathan turned around and glared at everyone. Cruelty clung to every word when he said, “No one leaves! Do you understand? I will kill anyone who tries to walk out that fucking door.”

With two bodies littering the ground, no one doubted him.’


Brandon led her through the drive-through and to the employee door behind the dumpster. While even the police tended to avoid the area, they still didn’t want to be spotted breaking into the building. Without a word, he jammed the crowbar under one of the planks of wood. The board splintered and cracked while he grunted and wrestled with it.

The wind stirred, throwing dust and small pebbles up around them. It tugged at Mina’s hair and sent chills dancing across her skin. She would have sworn she heard voices in the wind, muted pleas for mercy.

The first beam popped off and he set to work on the second. Her mind wandered once more.


‘Shane faced the grill, holding the spatula in one hand and the other in a tight fist. He had his back to Nathan and he met Mina’s eyes. Fear and the knowledge he was going to die reflected in his terrified expression.

When Nathan fired off the first round, she’d been able to duck behind the short wall separating the kitchen from the registers.

Afraid of moving too fast, he shuffled a step toward her. Shouting at the patrons, Nathan didn’t notice him moving. Shane took another step. Her fingers stretched for him, encouraging him to make it to her side.

A gun shot rang out. His mouth opened in a surprised “O” but no sound came out. He fell onto the grill, blasting the air with sizzling and the scent of burnt skin and hair. Though she managed to swallow the sobs rising in her throat, Mina couldn’t stop the flow of tears.

Not Shane! Not Shane!

Nathan’s voice rang out over the sound of her boyfriend cooking, “Anyone else want to try to be sneaky? Where is Carmela? That fucking bitch better get her ass out here or I’m going to pick off everyone, one by one.”

Another gunshot blasted the air, echoed by more screams. His laughter blasted more fear than his deadly aim. All Mina could do was silently cry.’


The sound of Brandon kicking the door open broke her concentration. They studied the looming darkness together. His fingers interlaced with her. His other hand reached into his pocket and pulled a small L.E.D. flashlight. The small beam lit a path of white in the intimidating black.

Most abandoned buildings were stripped of their valuables, but not this fast food joint. Registers sat with cobwebs upon them, cleaning gear lingered in the corner, even the milkshake machine (cleaned of Carrie’s blood) still hunched on the counter.


‘Mina shovedthrough the crowd gathered in front of the restaurant. Yellow police tape hung over the door.

“’Scuse me, Miss.” A young officer touched her arm, stopping her progression. He shook his head and said, “You can’t go in there.”

“What happened?” she asked.

“We can’t say anything about an ongoing investigation.”

Fear burned a hole in her chest but she obliged and stepped back into the crowd. Ever since Shane’s death and the shootings, the place seemed wrong, dark.

It didn’t help when Annette choked to death on her gum while taking an order.

Eager to get on with her life, Mina just wanted her last paycheck. Yet, now this madness.

A woman whispered near her to her companion, “This place hasn’t been right since the massacre. It’s like that boy’s haunting the place.”

Mina privately agreed with her assessment. Though the police shot Nathan, it felt like he still moved in the building. A hysterical hiccough caught her attention.

Carmela sobbed by the dumpster.

The crowd, more focused on the police-taped off door than the young woman crying in a corner, let her wiggle through them without much of a battle. Her hand touched her former-supervisor’s shoulder.

“Hey,” she said, “What happened? Are you okay?”

With red eyes and clear snot on her upper lip, Carmela’s shocked face turned to her. She said, “It happened so fast. I don’t even know how it happened. But, he didn’t deserve that. No one does.

“Who didn’t deserve what?”

A haunted glaze rolled over her features and she looked through the crowd. Her voice shook, “Matthew tripped and fell face first into the fryer. I’ve never seen skin do that. I’ve never seen anyone trip like that.”

As quickly as she tuned out, she zeroed in on Mina. Her calloused hands clutched hers. “It’s Nathan. I feel him there all the time, watching me. He’s killing everyone who escaped him that day. We’re the only employees who made it out. He’s gonna kill me next, I know it.”

“So quit!”

“I can’t. I’ve got bills to pay but I’m looking for another job. I can’t take this anymore. I don’t know how anyone can even eat here.” A visible shiver raced down Carmela back. Pain flared up as her grip tightened on Mina’s. “If I die, don’t go in there. He’ll get you too.”

“You’re not going to die,” Mina said.

Carmela’s silence said more than words ever could.’



The flashlight beam fell on the fryer. Mina shuddered, imaging poor Matthew dipped to the grease.
They closed the place after Carmela was found dead in the bathroom. She’d set her drink down on the counter and somehow, bleach spilled into it. They couldn’t figure out why she drank the whole cup but after her death, no one wanted to work there or eat there. Too many bodies racked up and too many unexplained problems occured.

“Maybe we should leave,”

Dust covered the booths, some tables still bearing ketchup and mustard smeared on the plastic tops.

Brandon gave her hand another squeeze. “I’m fine with that. We came in here, we saw, maybe you’ll sleep a little bit better now. You’ve faced your ghosts.”

He turned around to leave. She let his hand dropped and stepped farther into the shadows. The light from the open door had illuminated movement, just enough she thought she saw a face.

A loud clatter broke the silence and she spun around. A shriek poured out of her as she rushed to Brandon’s side. Somehow, he tripped over a janitorial bucket on wheels. The mop still stuck out of it, but was broken, the jagged end embedded in his throat. Blood drooled out of his mouth and wormed down the faded handle.

“Brandon, I’ll get help,” she said.

He grabbed her arm. A single word escaped his ravaged throat, “Run!”

She wanted to stay with him, but Carmela’s words haunted her. Something moved around her, strangling the air with undeserved hatred. Kissing her husband for the last time on his forehead, she did what he asked and ran for the door.

Brandon’s death spurred the city to demolish the cursed building, leaving nothing but an empty lot. To this day, the area is still abandoned, untouched save by the malicious spirit who died dumping his rage on innocents.