The Man From Philo

It was a swelteringly unbearable summer day, the hottest time of year in the Cornhusker State. The residents of Selene went about their Friday routines: finishing weekly tasks, beginning weekend chores, and taking afternoon strolls through town. This was a place where everyone knew each other’s names, and no one’s life story was a secret. So, when a strange man appeared out of nowhere, the town took notice. Selene was not unaccustomed to visitors, but this man was unlike anyone they had ever seen.

The incident began when a couple approached Bailey’s, the local diner. Suddenly, a man materialized, seemingly from thin air, and offered to hold the door for them. Such generosity was not uncommon in Selene, but his abrupt appearance startled them. Turning, they saw a figure that deepened their unease: a tall, scrawny man dressed in clothes that clashed with the local attire of the time. He wore a black bowler cap, a tight-fitting black suit, a crisp white button-up shirt, and black slacks.

Attempting politeness, the couple thanked him and entered the diner. They found a table, frequently glancing at the stranger, who likewise sat alone at a booth. Six other patrons were present, all later providing similar accounts of the odd man. The waitress, a middle-aged woman who had worked at Bailey’s for ten years, attended to him. She was well known not just around the diner but around Selene. She was known to be a wild teenager who often found herself in trouble, but who then mellowed out later in life.

On that day, she was the only other person to interact with the strange man during his brief stay. She recalled asking where he was from, to which he replied, “I hail from the town of Philo.”

“Oh, you mean Philadelphia?” she asked.

The man cracked a smile, then laughed somewhat hysterically. “Right,” he said.

Brushing off his peculiar response, she asked his name. “My name is Ivan Boron,” he replied.

The kind waitress nodded and asked what he’d like to order. He seemed entirely at ease, as if Selene were familiar to him, though he was alien to it. He requested a hot cup of coffee and nothing else.

“Coming right up, sir,” she said, turning toward the counter to pour his coffee.

We return now to the couple. They continued observing the man, taking turns glancing as he interacted with the waitress. The wife leaned toward her husband and whispered, “Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“When he touched the door. The air — it froze.”

He hesitated. “Yeah. Thought it was just me.”

“Who do you think he is?” she asked.

“I don’t know, certainly not from here.”

The waitress returned with the man’s coffee. He thanked her, took a sip, and exclaimed, “Quite delicious!”

“May I get you anything else?” she asked.

“No, ma’am, but may I ask you something?”

“Of course,” she nervously responded.

“Do you know the old toll bridge over by Dike Ridge?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said with a confused look on her face.

Ivan checked his pocket watch. “Three minutes from now, your boyfriend calls. He’ll ask you to drive out to that bridge. Don’t go. His plans… aren’t good.”

She gasped and said, “Excuse me? Who are you? What are you talking about?”

“Do not go with him.”

Then not knowing what to say, she just turned and walked over to the couple who initially met the strange man. When she arrived at their table, the wife interrupted, almost rudely. “Do you know that man?”

“No, I’ve never met him,” the waitress replied. “He says he’s from a town called Philo. Ever heard of it? I ha—”

CLANK! CRASH!

A shattering sound cut her off. The three turned toward the noise and saw a scene that should have been mundane but was laced with dread due to the stranger’s unsettling presence. The coffee mug the waitress had just delivered lay broken on the floor, coffee splattered around the table. But the booth was empty. Ivan Boron was gone.

Thinking he might have fled, they looked outside but saw no trace of him. They searched the diner, but he had vanished. No imprint marked the leather booth where he’d sat. The shattered mug was the only evidence he’d been there at all.

Moments after he vanished, the waitress heard another waitress call out to her, “Stacey, there is a phone call for you.”

Without initially giving it any thought, she started towards the back of the diner, then froze. In the midst of the chaos she almost forgot about what the man had said to her.

She took a moment to compose herself then slowly proceeded to walk to the back and pick up the phone.

“Hello,” she said with a shaky voice.

“Hey, it's James. Want to hang out tonight after work?”

Silence.

“Stacey? You there?”

“Y-yeah. I can’t. Picked up another shift.”

She hung up before he could answer.

“Stacey?” A voice came from behind her.

She jumped.

“Are you okay?”

She turned and saw her coworker.

“I’m fine,” she said too quickly.

“After everything you’ve been through… it never ends, huh?”

Stacey forced a smile. “Just my luck.”

Then the couple who initially met the man walked up to Stacey.

The wife said, “How are you holding up?”

“I-I’m okay, thank you.”

“That was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. Like a ghost — here one second, gone the next.”

“Yeah, a ghost,” Stacey said.

“Well I hope all is well. Have a good day, ma’am.” The couple turned around and sat back down at their booth.

Stacey turned to her coworker and said. “I think I need to clock out early.”

“I wouldn’t bla-”, Stacey walked away before she could finish.

Stacey clocked out, left the diner, and ignored everyone around her. She got in her car and drove. Not home, not anywhere in particular. Just… away.

The other patrons who were present hadn’t noticed the man at the moment of his disappearance. Three people swore they’d spoken to him. The rest of Selene doubted, but they knew the truth: they had met a ghost. As for Stacey—like the man from Philo—Selene never saw her again.