One Empty Seat

On Visions, Patience, and What Must Be Done

Charlie spots a free table in the packed airport cafeteria and drops heavily into the chair. He has been awake since four, his flight delayed twice, and the fluorescent hum above him feels like a hand pressing flat against his skull. All he wants is to eat. In peace. Alone.

Just as he lifts his fork, the waiter steps up to his table.

“Excuse me, sir.”

“Yes?”

“I’m afraid the restaurant is completely full. In a few minutes, another guest will be joining you.”

Charlie mechanically pushes his glasses up. His tongue sticks dry against the roof of his mouth.

The man who approaches a short while later says a quiet “Hello” and sits down without seeking Charlie’s gaze. Unremarkable. Pale. A carry-on bag he sets down with excessive care.

Then it begins.

The cafeteria walls fall away. Coloured lights dance. Charlie floats above the table and looks down. The stranger sits slumped in his chair, motionless, head sunk deep onto his chest. No breath. No movement. The cafeteria continues around them, indifferent. A child at the next table laughs. Someone drops a tray. Only the stranger is still.

Then Charlie is back in his body. The visions never last long. They have also, in eleven years, never been wrong.

He waits until his heartbeat steadies. Then he reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket and draws out a small silver tin. He has carried it for years, refilling it each season from the plants he tends in his spare room, the dark green leaves he cultivates with a patience that surprises even himself. He opens the tin, runs his thumb across the velvet surface. Poisonous. Precise.

He closes the tin and sets it beside his plate.

He looks at the man. The carry-on bag sits between the stranger’s feet, held in place by both ankles, and for a moment Charlie wonders, as he sometimes does, what it would feel like to be mistaken.

Then the man raises his head and shudders, and their eyes meet for the first time, and Charlie feels the familiar calm settle over him like a hand on the shoulder.

“It would be a sorry state of affairs,” he murmurs, almost tenderly, “if I couldn’t defeat the evil in this world.”

Author’s note

I’m Sacha, a writer based in Switzerland, currently working on my first full-length novel. Fragments and the Dark is my home for the shorter pieces: stories, fragments, experiments, and a chance to connect with readers who share a taste for the darker corners of fiction.

I’d love for writing to one day become my full-time work. If you’d like to help me along that path, you can buy me a coffee or become a paid subscriber using the buttons below. And if that’s not for you right now, a like, comment, or restack genuinely makes a difference too.

Thank you for reading. 🖤