Seared Scallops and Ashes

A weary chef, a strange diner, and a midnight meal that serves more than food. Take a seat, something’s cooking at the Crossroads Café.

Welcome to another corner of Sketches & Storytelling – The Story Sketchbook – a space where I share short bursts of fiction straight from my creative sketchbook. These stories are quick reads, but each one is a snapshot of a bigger world, a character in motion, or a moment that matters.

This one’s a little eerie, a little reflective, and like most things here, it started with a question I couldn’t shake.

Hope you enjoy the read.

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It’s 23:41 – time for the ritual to begin. 

Again.

A different cafe or bar every night after work, avoiding the return to an empty apartment.

As Clayton navigates an old dirt road on the outskirts of Thameshire County, he spots a dilapidated diner he could’ve sworn wasn’t there before. 

The kind of place that serves burnt coffee in a chipped mug.

An ancient door chime announces his entrance to the two diners already inside, hunched over their lonely tables like gargoyles.

It’s deathly silent for a diner, but the warmth and smells of comfort food extend an invitation one can’t refuse. 

Clayton’s still in his crumpled whites and at this point doesn’t care. He needs a drink – a potent antidote for the poison of another relentless and unappreciated day.

As he takes a seat at the bar, a dark-eyed wisp-like figure with wildish hair materialises from the kitchen and gives him the universal look that says: “What can I get you?”

That’s easy.

“Two margaritas, one spicy. And a large beer.”

Food can wait…

***

One margarita down, Clay takes a deep draft of his half-empty beer as the clock strikes midnight.

The jukebox crackles into life and breaks the silence with an eerily quiet haunting melody as a cold air blasts through, snatching Clayton from his thoughts. 

As he looks up, the menu board flickers and fades before displaying a single line:

Seared Scallops and Ashes.

The server reappears and gives the same look as before. 

“Is this the only choice?” he asks.

“For you, yes.”

He half-shrugs and nods with an awkward smile that suggests his submissive affirmation of the strange reply.

The spicy margarita is going down well. 

As the server returns with the other customers’ orders, Clay catches her eye with a gesture that says “Same again.”

Nearing the bitter end of his third cocktail, a plate is placed on the serving hatch pass accompanied by the dull toll of a bell like the final chirp of a mine canary detecting gas.

The server swiftly retrieves the plate and sets it down on the bar..

Immediately, he’s impressed. 

If there’s anything Chef Clayton Pitt wouldn’t have expected, it’s a night diner serving perfectly seared scallops in the wee hours of the morning.

Admiration becomes confusion as he realises the scallops are resting on a bed of pristine white ash – a small wedge of lemon, the only splash of colour on the plate.

Starkness. Absence. Emptiness.

The scallops disappear into the abyss as he recognises his habit of missing the bigger picture in his never-ending quest for perfection and validation.

He motions to twist his ring, but of course, it hasn’t been there for some time now. 

Old habits die hard.

He scans the room to see what the other diners have been served…

***

A well-dressed man is gripping a glass of water, gazing into a bowl of boiled cabbage.

A nurse has been served a family-sized shepherd’s pie in a takeaway tray – lacking the locomotive steam one usually sees escaping from a fresh-out-of-the-oven shepherd’s pie.  

Clayton’s no stranger to cheffy concepts, but this set-up, this service, it’s strange.

Who is the chef here?

How does he choose what to serve each person?

There’s a bigger picture. 

When did Clayton stop cooking to give people pause, sacrificing everything to please the unpleasable Tyrant he works for?

He has changes to make.

Leaving the diner, he looks back briefly and notices a small poster taped to the window – Crossroads Cafe: Chef Wanted, Enquire Within. 

He takes a deep breath, and walks back into the diner…