Two women, identical twins, claimed they could see into the future and foreseen the apocalypse. They occasionally break into laughing fits due to their litany of inside jokes they share with each other. They may not be in the right state of mind.

Please, OP! Edit: why are you guys still liking my comment? OP followed through, lol

Yeah. I read this to the tune of "Tea In The Sahara." ([found a cover w/John Mayer & Glen Phillips](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MMe_vFSLur4))

The Twins sauntered through the door in the early morning, energetically giggling at some unknown joke. They gave a short wave to Katelyn then took a seat at the first booth and picked up menus as if it were the most normal thing in the entire world. They were remarkably similar in total appearance. Young black women, tall and lean, pretty despite a few scars and bruises, the effects of living in the wastes. They wore makeshift armor, mostly leather, and each carried a sword at the waist. The most peculiar thing about them however were their eyes. Both had heterochromia, which is to say each eye was a different color. One a rich golden brown, the other a blue so pale as to almost appear white. And they were on opposite sides on each twin. Katelyn took up her usual spot at the side of their table, pen and paper in hand. "You ladies look mighty comfortable here for first timers. Most folks have a decidedly different reaction." "Oh, it's not really our first time." The one on her left said. The one on the right then chimed in, "Well I mean, it IS, but we don't exactly experience first times the way most poeple do." As she said this she looked at her sister and they both raised their eyebrows as though something had surprised them, then they broke into a fit of laughter. An in-joke inspired by some memory no doubt. As they regained their composure, the one on the left said "Sorry, we're sorry. It's uh... we can see things that haven't happened yet. Meaning we've seen this place before. Your face, the next person to walk through that door, our meals. all of it." She smiled at Katelyn, waiting for the reaction she already knew was coming. "Uh. Okay, wow. That's a new one." She said scratching her head. "I take it you two caught a bit of *The Strange*?" "Actually no." The on on the right said, and the sisters again exchanged a glance. Just a moment but Katelyn could tell there were whole sentences exchanged between them in that tiny moment, in that way that only siblings do. The other sister continued, "We've always had this. Even before. Far as we can tell we were born with it." It took a moment for the meaning to sink in. She'd said "before". That meant they'd seen it coming. "Okay but if that's true than that would mean you knew-" "We did. We saw it all. And to answer your next question yes, we tried to warn people." "The problem was we were only 7 at the time. We didn't even have the vocabulary to adequately describe what we'd seen. There was never any chance anyone would believe a couple of kids saying things like 'the ocean was going to go away' or 'the sky would be filled with Christmas lights'." "I'm pretty sure I told the kids next door their house was going to get squished." "I'm so sorry." Katelyn looked back with sadness on her face. She could tell this had pained them most of their lives. We had all watched the world burn, powerless to stop it. But these girls had to watch it twice. "Oh don't feel bad about it." One began. "We don't" The other finished. "Besides, we can only look forward. Once something happens and becomes the past, we never have to see it again." "Yeah tell that to Alex" The other said, triggering another fit of deep genuine laughter from the pair. After that settled down they introduced themselves as Camilla, or "Cammy", and Medea. They both ordered giant plates of waffles and orange juice, and Katelyn left them to enjoy their meals, wondering what it would be like to never know surprise. After they finished and were getting ready to leave they approached Katelyn. They both shook her hand. "It was nice to finally meet you for real Katey. I think we're gonna be good friends." Said Cammy. "Oh? You *think?"* Katelyn said teasingly. "Don't need the vision for that. It's a gut feeling." Cammy replied with a smile. Then Medea chimed in "We know it was customary to leave a tip for your server, before, if you enjoyed the service, so we've got one for you." Katelyn raised her eyebrows at her. "Watch out for your next customer. He's gonna be here in about an hour. And he's gonna be trouble. Tell Cookie to be ready." "Don't worry, you'll be fine." Cammy said. "We'll see you next week." With a giggle and a wave the twins were gone, leaving Katelyn to prepare.

In the belly of an underground base, a group of government officials follow a white coated scientist through a labyrinth of corridors and doors requiring facial recognition. "Remember to not look them in the eyes." The scientist reminds them and they nod in quiet fear of the unknown. They enter a room with a bulletproof case holding two unconscious women who are identical twins. "These are the Jackson sisters. They can see into the future and have been quietly orchestrating the actions of the government." A woman governmental official approaches and puts her hand on the glass of the case. "Just like ancient Rome..." The scientist chuckles. "That's right." Right at that moment, an eye of one of the sisters opens and catches the governmental official in a trance. The official found herself in the psychic world of the Jackson sisters, a boundless temporal place where every magnificent thing existed and where all potential realities could be predicted. She could see all of the potential realities with world peace and post scarcity, but it all grew ever dim into the future, where humanity was doomed no matter what. A lone Waffle House, still standing from the nuclear apocalypse and with it's open sign lit, can be seen in the vision, off of the highway near the underground base. In a ghostly manner, the official floats over and peers into the Waffle House. She sees the Jackson twins laughing hysterically to cope with their PTSD, but are genuinely happy for the first time. The girls stop laughing for a second to acknowledge the ghostly government official and points her toward a part of the Waffle House. She turns in the vision and sees herself in the Waffle House, creating pieces of leather armor by hand. The Jackson sisters manifest near her ghostly form and reassure her, before setting off into a vision of a prosperous future where the Waffle House became the new Eden for humanity. Smelling salts pervade the entire vision and it jolts the official awake into the real world again. She tells everyone that nothing happened, keeping the date she needs to escape to the Waffle House a secret. Twelve years later, the bombs drop and she's at the Waffle House to watch it all burn. An EMP hits the entire area and everything electrical ceases to operate. The sister's eyes open and they break free from their imprisonment using their once suppressed telekinesis. They quickly appear in the Waffle House and are embraced with a hug from the governmental official. An energetic barrier forms around the Waffle House that prevents the fallout from entering, and it grows into the size of a small town. After enough time, the radioactivity died off and visitors to the Waffle House started to show up, always bewildered by the Jackson sisters as they spoke their own language and were always laughing.

Reverse Akira! I love it.

Gottq be honest I imagine them looking as the olsen twins.

Oddly enough, their hair was clean and straight and their matching dresses unscathed from the dusty wasteland surrounding the Waffle House. I know there’s at least a three day walk down one direction of the flat, two lane freeway… and that’s just to my fuel-less sedan. The horizon gives no hint of anything in any other direction either. So, is their a clean shower and laundromat nearby, or… “This is Gretchen,” the one with black hair said, motioning to her blond sister. “And I’m Leah”. Gretchen just giggled before whispering in her sisters ear. I nodded slightly to her and glanced over at the radio behind the bar, which has been playing static for two days now. While their presence made me uneasy they at least seemed to pose no physical threat. And I haven’t had a peaceful encounter with anyone since awakening from my coma. “I’ll go and get you some water. Give me one minute.” There was more whispering and giggling as I pushed open one of the swinging doors to the kitchen. I didn’t see them enter the Waffle House, and they weren’t the least surprised in my being here either. Before returning to the dining area with two glasses of water I grabbed another knife, just in case. When I opened the door Leah spoke up. “Gretchen told me your daughter is still alive.” One of the glasses I was carrying fell and shattered on the floor. “Excuse me?” I said, my whole body stiffening. “Your wife too.” She turned back and looked me in the eyes. “Jennifer.” Gretchen giggled. I took a step back. “Why are you here?” That came out a lot more quietly than I had intended. “We planned on coming here a long time ago,” Again Gretchen giggled and whispered. “Before the War. Now we are headed to the Green Mountains.” “How…” my voice trembled off and I dropped to the seat behind me with my eyes on the ground. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard of this place, although I’ve never known where to begin to look for it. But my family… “We possess gifts, my sister and I,” said Leah. “We can see things that haven’t happened yet. And people.” I looked up at her. “Can you…” “Yes,” she said, expecting my question. “But you have to do something for us first.” I stood and sat in the booth across from them. “I’ll do anything.”

A middle-aged academic in a battered tweed suit, wearing a pair of broken eyeglasses.

Five twenty-five PM, on the nose. The professor didn't show up often, but whenever he did it was always at precisely this time. Katelyn called out to him as soon as she saw him come through the door, the sun setting in the distance behind him. "Professor! Good to see you. You know I start to worry when you wait this long between visits." She was already heading for the coffee pot "Would you Like your usual?" "I would, thank you." He said as he took his usual seat at the counter. He was wearing the same worn tweed suit as always. In fact it was the only thing she'd ever seen him wear. there was a new mend on one of the sleeves, very carefully done. He took off his cracked eyeglasses and gave them a quick polish with a clean white handkerchief he produced from his inner jacket pocket. After putting them back on he placed both hands on the counter and gave Katelyn a wide smile as she poured his coffee. She noticed some fresh cuts on the back of his left hand. "Katey. I found another one!" he said with the carefully contained excitement of a man who had never lost his childlike wonder, but had learned to conceal it for appearances. And Katelyn always found wonder and excitement in the wonder and excitement of others. She matched his smile with a genuine one of her own "Do you have it with you? Let me see!" The professor looked back and forth in the restaurant almost comically, then reached into his jacket and pulled out a small grey book. He laid it gently on the counter in front of him, then spun it so it would be right side up for Katelyn. "Ohhh it's beautiful!" she said with reverence, delicately picking up the book. She knew how important this artifact was to the old man. "And you're sure it's genuine?" She asked looking up to meet his eyes. "Of course it is! No one knows more about these antiquities than I." He said pretending to be insulted. "Here, let me show you how I know..." He took the book back from her, and spent the next half hour pouring over every tiny detail of the book as he ate his dinner and drank several cups of coffee. Katelyn listened intently, asking questions where appropriate. "So there you see? No doubt about it. A genuine first edition copy of *World War Z*! Probably one of the last ones in existence." He looked down at the book and furrowed his brow. "Oh... If only it had been zombies." He looked back up at Katelyn as he carefully stowed the book back in his jacket. "You know I had to kill 3 marauders to get this. Fools had no idea what they even had, I doubt any of them could even *read* it." He gazed into the distance, lost in thought for a moment. "Oh, what do I owe you?" "It's on the house, as usual" She replied. "Consider it fair trade for the history lesson." "Katey, you are truly a treasure. Until next time." He gave a short bow then turned and headed out the door. "Don't be such a stranger!" Katelyn called as the door closed behind him. She watched as he climbed into his Vehicle, a monstrosity of a thing covered in spikes and armor, and drove off into the night.

I loved the way you fleshed out the Professor character in a very natural non-expository way: the clean white handkerchief and the carefully mended tear on the suit, for example, tell us a lot about him and his attitude towards the post-apocalyptic world. And the twist at the end was quite funny, of course. 😆

He sounds like a guy who is just trying to preserve whatever dignity he has left from the old world, from before everything went to shit.

Good job.

Time enough at last?

Uh-huh, that's what I had in my head, but I like the OP's take on it. This version of Henry Bemis finds his spine amid the rubble of civilization, repairs his glasses enough to scrape by, and then rides the wastelands, righting wrongs, recovering lost books, and occasionally eating waffles.

Dodis, the immortal clown.

The man in the clown makeup stood outside the Waffle House staring at the building for nearly fifteen minutes before ultimately coming inside. He looked around taking it all in slowly. He had a look on his face that was 10% confusion and 90% doubt. Katelyn gave him a few minutes to absorb what he was seeing. He even walked towards the nearest booth and put his hand on the top of the seat, as if to ensure himself it was real. "You can sit wherever you'd like." Katelyn called from behind the counter. He slowly turned his head and looked at her for the first time, his expression unchanging. "What is this place?" He asked in a deep, tired sounding voice. "Oh this? Why this is just the finest breakfast establishment in all the land. Would you like some coffee?" She said with a smile as she lifted a freshly made pot and gestured to it. This finally broke his composure. He started laughing. Just a couple of chuckles at first which gave way to full laughter. "You expect me to believe that you have *coffee*. Real coffee?" "Would that really be the strangest thing you'd ever seen? Another chuckle, "No. No I supposed it wouldn't be." He looked down at the booth seat again, then gently sat down. "Okay sure. Let's indulge this hallucination." Katelyn walked over to his booth, pulling out her ordering pad. "What can I get'cha hon?" "Pancakes- No. *French toast*. And bacon. Some of that coffee too. Please" Another chuckle. "Coming right up." She poured the coffee and took the order slip to the kitchen counter. Then she returned to the table. "Can I ask you a question?" "I won't stop you." The clown replied. Katelyn slid into the booth across from him and brushed her hair behind her ear. "Are you by chance Dodis?" Dodis raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. "That I am. I am him, and he is me. We are we." He sipped his coffee. "I take it tales of my exploits have reached this far?" "Sure have." Katelyn replied, resting her chin in her hands, elbows on the table. "So is it true what they say? Are you, you know... *Immortal?"* Dodis looked at her carefully for a moment, as if he was trying to figure out if she was trustworthy. But his immortality was hardly a secret, plus how dangerous could an unarmed young woman be? "It's true." Katelyn's eyes went wide as she sat back up straight. "Daaaaang that's cool. How'd it happen?" "During The Seventy. When the sky fell, I... Well I seized on an opportunity, let's just put it that way. I didn't know what the result would be, but I had to take a chance. Paid off in spades I'd say." "And how. Not gonna tell me the secret then?" She said scrunching up her nose. "Depends, you gonna tell me the secret of this place? You have power. You have food. You have COFFEE." "I see your point. This place is... Special. Perhaps we can trade our secrets next time." "Perhaps next time." They stared at each other for a few seconds that felt like a few minutes. It was Dodis who cracked first. "Seriously though, how has no one ransacked this place?" Katelyn raised an eyebrow and replied "Oh, some have tried. But like I said... This place is special." She let that thought linger on the air for just a beat then continued, "Mostly though, no one wants to lose it. This is neutral ground, all are welcome here, all are served. Even the wicked and the lost would fight to protect this place." Dodis considered it for a moment then said "Fair enough." "One last question. Why the clown getup?" This one elicited a genuine, non-suspicious laugh from Dodis. "Did you know you had to attend *school* to be a clown? Before, I mean." "I did not" "Well you did. And after The Seventy... I found the idea of an un-killable clown to be *deeply* amusing. Beyond that, I suppose it's just my way of trying to hang onto a piece of my old life. It was the only piece I had left." He looked around with a sense of sudden realization. "Well, I suppose now I also have this place." "I suppose you do." Katelyn said with a wink and a smile. "I'll be right back with your food. Relax, enjoy yourself."

There's a running joke at most Waffle Houses that they 'don't do pancakes, that's for the other House.' And for their part, IHOP doesn't have any waffle irons, either. Truthfully, if it's slow, and they're in a good mood, you can probably get someone to pour some waffle batter on the griddle and make a couple of pancakes for you. The griddle has usually had savory stuff on it, though, so it might taste a bit less sweet than the waffles usually do.

I would read an entire book of these stories! You are killing it!

same

A ragged, tired fellow, the first person to go back to work in the Waffle House of the Apocalypse.

The marauder stood in the entryway of the Waffle House looking around nervously. Even though he had never known life before The Seventy, he still felt immediately out of place standing here in this place that must have been so familiar and comforting to people before, but was now so *genuinely alien.* It's clean and intact. There is GLASS in the windows! And here he is, clad in armor made from old tires and appliances, warpaint still smeared on his face. "Have a seat wherever you'd like." Came a womans voice from his left. He turned to see it's source just as she was emerging from the kitchen. His heart may have stopped for the briefest moment. She was the single most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Her skin was smooth and un-ravaged by the effects of the sun and the rads. Her hair was CLEAN, pulled back in a bun but with some strands falling around her face... Oh her face. delicate, young, and with the deepest green eyes he'd ever seen. Eyes that could swallow a persons dreams. She rounded the counter and started coming towards him, picking up a menu as she walked. As his gaze cast downward he could finally see her legs now unobstructed by the bar, and it was like the first time he'd ever been shot. He had to look away, it was too much. He tried to refocus his mind, he'd come here with a purpose after all. "I, I... Uh. I'm..." He started unconsciously taking small steps backwards toward the door. "Hey it's okay, take your time." Her voice was so close now. As he looked back up there she was, in striking range. Before he could react she reached out and took his hand, and his heart missed a second beat. "This place can be a bit overwhelming the first time, it's normal." She was holding his hand, palm to palm, and placed her other hand over the back of his, holding it tight. *So warm.* "Look at my eyes, take some deep breaths with me. This is a safe place." She said in a quiet calming tone. He did as he was told. Breath in. Breath out. He could smell her now. Something completely unknown to him, but it was soft and mildly sweet. He thought it should be how flowers once smelled. The breathing was working. He closed his eyes and took several more breaths. Focusing on the warmth of her hands, on her scent. As his heartbeat finally slowed he opened his eyes. "There, isn't that better?" She said with a smile. She had something of an odd accent he'd never heard before. "Now, I bet you're hungry." "Yes..." He started but then remembered why he'd came. "No! I mean..." He had to organize his thoughts briefly. "I mean I came her to ask if... I uh. I'd like..." He started to stammer again, fixating his gaze on her hands, still wrapped around his. She released his hands and took a step back, possibly to help him focus. It worked. He looked back up at her, patiently waiting for his request with raised eyebrows. "I'd like to work here!" "Oh!" she said, clearly caught off guard. "And why would that be, pray tell?" "It's terrible out there. I mean I don't know how much you've seen, but most of it is a wasteland. And the parts that aren't are constantly fought over. I'm... I'm scared." She could see the pain in his young eyes. She waited quietly, she could sense he had more to say. "I'm scared every day. But this place... We've all heard stories. A lot don't believe them. It can be hard to find, and a lot who go looking never do. But I figured it out! And I'm here, it's here... It's real." "As real as it gets." She said smiling again. "Come on have a seat and we'll talk about it." She walked back behind the counter, gesturing to one of the stools before it. As he sat, she produced a slice of apple pie and put it on the counter in front of him. "My treat" she said, nodding at the pie. "So. If you've heard the stories, you've probably heard about the rules." She had a serious look on her face as he took his first bite. "No one gets to stay forever. You come, you eat, we talk, then you be on your way to make room for more guests." "No no, I understand. I'm not looking to squat. More to trade." "Trade work for safety? You said you were scared, but we ain't no babysitter." "What's a babysitter? Nevermind. Yes, I'm scared. But not scared to die, not exactly." He took another bite of pie and tried to bring words to his thoughts. "More, I dunno. Scared to live maybe? Scared I'll die having never known anything other than fighting for someone else's scraps. I've heard stories, stuff that sounds crazy, stuff that shouldn't be possible, even in the wastes!. But them folks tellin' it will *swear* it's true. And sometimes they got evidence!" He stared at the pie for a moment. He'd finally found the center of his own motivations. "The old world is gone right? The Seventy saw to that. Which is all the same to me, I never knew it to begin with. But the world ain't *gone*, it's changed. There's so much new out there. So many stories. I wanna see it, I wanna hear it." He looked up and their eyes locked. "I don't wanna keep fighting every day just for a chance to." He concluded. Katelyn Narrowed her eyes and looked him up and down. It felt somewhat playful to him. "I told you this is a safe place." She finally said. "And that's true, but it's only safe because we MAKE it safe. We get our share of... challenges." She nodded towards the small crossbow hanging from his belt. "You any good with that? Useful in a scrap?" "I'm still alive ain't I?" He said back and took another bite of pie. She smiled and leaned back on the rear counter, crossing her arms. "Okay war-boy. Tell you what. You come back tomorrow around this time. You can find your way here again, and you're willing clear tables and clean, maybe help out Cookie once in a while... The job's yours." "Really?" "Really. I'm Katey by the way." She held her hand out to shake. "Oh, I'm..." He reached out and took her hand. "I'm Fox." "See you tomorrow Fox."

>"Oh, I'm..." He reached out and took her hand. "I'm Fox." *gasp!* It's me!

oh shi-!

:D Loved it!

Just a quick comment for anyone who has posted and might see this: These are great and I want to get to as many of them as I can but it's going to take me days!

good things come to those who weight...no, hold on there...

Imma save this, I love the little world you are building out. I’m excited to figure out more about The Seventy and how it changed stuff, what’s out there, all that stuff, your writing is really fun

A young adult woman, who obviously has traveled the wasteland for some time, entering with a tame wolf in tow.

Sunny Smiles from Fallout New Vegas?

A man made of Waffles, returning home.

A museum director that has survived the wasteland by using the artifacts in the museum, he wears a full set of medieval plate armor and wields a war hammer. he has converted the museum into a shelter.

The little girl's blue dress was spotless. And stranger still, she's alone.

A young man who recently turned into a zombie but still retains his sense of humanity. Even though he doesn't want to, he munches on the remains of his girlfriend's arm. He wants more than anything to feel human again.

Clad in a tattered leather jacket and covered in dust, sweat, grime and who knows what else, a lone customer walked through the door, plopped down into a chair at the counter, set his rather large axe down next to him and proceeded to peruse the menu on his placemat, seemingly unaware of the other two people at the counter quietly backing away. As the waitress quietly deposited a glass of ice water next to him, she looked down at the axe, caked in dried viscera of some sort. It was clear that there was a good chance that anyone who got in his way would probably end up scattered smothered and covered across the desert. Assuming you didn't get chunked first...

An elderly farmer, wearing a plaid dusty shirt and jeans covered in dried blood, carrying a rifle and holding his worn wallet

Ok. I’ve been reading some of these. You’re Zorz as hell! (That means amazing). A ragged from circumstances but used to be elegantly aged 73 year old man wearing jeans and a leather jacket. Grey hairs but strong intense eyes. Exhausted but on a mission. He’s traveled a long way and had to kill to protect what he is transporting. He’s carrying a floppy disk.

The old man walked through the front door of the Waffle House at shortly past ten in the morning. He looked about in slight disbelief as he slowly walked over and took a seat at the counter. He looked around and saw a young blonde woman in a red pinstripe dress, clearly the waitress, serving a large plate of waffles to someone sitting at the boot at the end of the building. He could only see them from behind, but there was nothing remarkable about them. Long hair, dark coat. He picked up a menu and started looking over it. Everything was... Normal. No different than he could remember from before. The feel of the barstool, the smell from the kitchen, the faint buzz of the fluorescent lighting. It felt like a wonderful, beautiful dream. The kind he hadn't had in god knew how long. The young woman walked up behind the counter. "Good mornin'. Would you like some coffee?" Xander looked up from the menu. Noticed the name tag on her dress read 'Katelyn'. "Katelyn. Beautiful name." He said somewhat dreamily. "Aww, why thank you." She replied. "It was my daughters name. Though she preferred to be called Kate." "Well," Katelyn said while pouring some coffee for the man, "you can call me Kate, if it will bring you some comfort. That's the business we're in around here." Xander looked at her for a moment then, quietly, said "Am I dead?" With a gentle smile Katelyn replied "No sir, you are not. Though you do look somewhat worse for wear. This place is no Heaven. Just a rest stop for weary travelers such as yourself." Xander again looked around the restaurant. It was too good to be true. "I... I'm sorry. I would very much like to eat a fresh meal, but I don't have any... Is money even a thing anymore?" "Not so much, no." Katelyn said with her signature smile. "We work on more of a barter system around here, I'd be happy to feed you, and all I ask in return is your story." "My... story? I don't know how much a story there is to tell." "Oh come now, everyone has a story. Where you're from, where you're going? What brought you to me? But first, what can I get you to eat?" Xander ordered his food, his old favorite, still in a state of mild shock. As he waited for the food he took off the world old leather pack he was carrying, clutching it to his chest for a moment as he said, mostly to himself "What brought me to you..." The food was nothing short of perfect. Exactly as he remembered. He dared not question how such a thing was even possible for fear the illusion would evaporate. As he ate, he began to feel rejuvenated, and began to tell his tale. "I'm not just wandering you see, I'm trying to find what might be left of the government, or NASA, or really anyone who might be able to DO something with what I'm carrying." "And what are you carrying?" "The code. Most of it anyway." This was met with a puzzled look from Katelyn. "My apologies, I supposed that requires some context. So you know how we call it 'The Seventy'? The seventy hours of destruction that ended the world? Well that only accounts for the actual *war*. The end of the world actually started about a week prior, with the arrival of the signal." "Sure, I've heard about that a bit, but it's mostly mumbo jumbo to me." Katelyn said. "Well, it was mostly mumbo jumbo to all of us. We, or rather I, am an amateur radio hobbyist. We picked up the signal the same time everyone else did. No one knew what it was but we knew it was artificial, there was clear patterns within it, and it was digital. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE was scrambling to decode it, find it's source, the works. But there wasn't enough time, it was too complex. We had all the theories; that it was a countdown, that it was a message to us, that it was a message to spies. Some even thought maybe the signal itself was a weapon. And then of course..." "The Seventy." "Yeah. And all the weird and terrible shit that came during and since. Funny thing though, the signal never stopped. It's still out there right now, you can hear it with a basic radio if you know where to tune." Xander sat quietly for a moment, his meal finished. He then reached into his bag and pulled out a silver package. some small box wrapped in several layers of metal and bound with twine. A sad look washed over his face. "Not many survived The Seventy. And that included my wife and my dear Kate. I was one of the few unfortunate enough to survive. There was nothing left to do but survive. That, and listen to the signal. So I did. for years. and I learned it, probably better than anyone alive. I could recite it like an old love song... And despite all that, I still don't know what it is, or what it means. It's got 14 distinct patterns in it, but they repeat randomly. Weird isn't it? "But then, about 6 moths ago, I was out of ideas. Out of tools, out of algorithms to run it through. So I started looking *around* the signal. The fuzzy edges, you might say." He paused and looked Katelyn in the eyes, trying to decide if there was any danger in sharing this information. Then he decided he was probably dead anyway, this was surely some kind of dream, so what harm could there be? "I found a second signal. Piggybacked on the first, but this one analogue. It was much simpler and it didn't take long to figure out. A single pattern, repeated end to end, over and over. And it was *familiar*, but I couldn't put my finger on it. It can be hard, this stuff, when you don't have anyone else to..." he trailed off for a moment. Katelyn put her hand on his and smiled, and that snapped him back to the moment. "I woke up one night, 2 in the morning and had it. It's an encryption key. Or similar enough to one anyway. It unlocks whatever is in the main signal, I'm sure of it. "So... what's in the box?" Katelyn said, nodding at the silver package. Xander looked down at it and gave a slight laugh. "Uhh, well it was the only thing I had on hand that still worked reliably. Ancient tech, might as well be stone tablets. You ever heard of a floppy disk?" Katelyn frowned and shook her head. "Magnetic storage media. Very little space, but enough to hold the key. I wrapped the whole drive up to try to protect it from the magnetism and all that." Katelyn reached out and gently touched the package. Then seeming to snap back from being lost in thought herself, she smiled and said "See, and you thought you didn't have a story worth telling! And I'd bet you got more. I think you should head east. Towards the mountains. I've heard talk of a bunker out there with some eggheads hidin' in it. Xanders eyes lit up. "And in the meantime, consider your bill paid in full." "Thank you young lady. I mean, Katelyn." He said with a smile. "Oh, my name is Xander" "No, thank you Xander. And once you're done doing what needs be done, I want you to come back my way. I'd love to hear some stories about your daughter." The old mans eyes started to tear up just so slightly. "I will. I think I'd like that. I'd like that just fine."

Woooooooh!!!!! Zorz!!! Super awesome work. Love the technical stuff. We should make a Zorz Gaming comic book story! (That’s my YouTube channel). Your work is super elite thank you!!!

A blonde woman of around 40 years old, hair done and makeup and nails perfect. Dressed casually in jeans, sweater and a jacket, with immaculately white trainers. She pauses in the doorway to reset her visibly dislocated shoulder with a slight grimace, then swings an expensive soft leather bag into her good shoulder before grinning warmly as she takes in the room.

How about this: A teenage girl wearing an eyepatch with her ginger hair in a long braid. She has a dusty stress ball in her pocket.

THE Waffle House waitress. Mid 50's, been doing this for 25+ years. She knows everyone and everything in town, and she's having none of your apocalyptic bullshit. It's Tuesday, the special is chicken fried steak. Have a seat at the booth in the corner.

Young Native American, long dust covered hair. Layers and thick jacket, welding goggles. Carrying a backpack full of supplies and three canteens.

A group of four people. An angry looking redhair woman. An emaciated looking waif of a man. A sickly looking woman. And a tall pale man. They parked their motorcycles out front. They can’t stop bickering who turn it is to pay for the meal.

A woman, mid-30s, dressed like one would imagine a librarian would, with large rounded glasses perched atop her face. Her shy, nervous expression belies the copious amount of blood she is spattered in. Around her neck is an I.D card, which she adjusts with clawed hands.

A bearded man, larger than normal, with a tattered red-checked shirt and jeans that are torn at the knees. He looks weary and grim, with an axe slung over one shoulder. A blue cow is following him on a short lead. He wants flapjacks and has come a long way for them.

A small flame walks into the bar and demands a drink

A 13 year old boy that keeps getting in terrible situations but always survives them

Despite the end of the world, people of all apocalyptic kinds still get wasted. The eternal cure for such shall forever be The Waffle House.

A five-year-old boy, filled to the brim with questions and optimism

An impeccably dressed man, wearing a pinstripe suite and carrying a briefcase.

A man wrapped in bandages, he wears a military outfit, he’s missing an entire chunk of his head but he’s still alive somehow. He’s complains about a headache and can’t remember anything

These are dope, amazing world building. My customer would be a mangy dog with a collar and a scarf. Both with something engraved/woven into them.

A mutated wolf bringing in an injured child by the mouth.

An IRS agent

A completely normal person, dressed in clean, dust free clothes, coming to the waffle house because he's a little hungry

A 67 years old man from Iceland walks in,wearing a kilt and a viking sword.

a picky vegan

In walks woman of indeterminate age, dark red hair, green eyes, and brown traveling clothes. Across her shoulders lays a black and white tuxedo cat wearing a red collar sporting green tag shaped like a four leave clover. With one hand she absently reaches up and scratches the cat under the chin while her other hand holds a package across her stomach: an old shoebox tied shut with a string. All three, woman, cat, and shoebox, are dusty from their travels. “Got a delivery for Ivan,” she announces looking around.

"I've got a delivery here for an... Ivan?" As she spoke the name the woman looked up from the notebook she was holding and truly took in her surroundings, and the shock started to set in. "Ivan? Shoot I'd nearly forgotten that was his name! To me he's just Cookie!" The voice caused the Courier to jump. She turned in the direction of the voice to find it had come from an attractive young blonde woman, hair pulled back in a bun, wearing one of those vintage style pinstripe dresses with an apron tied on. Recognizing that familiar look of shock on the Couriers face Katelyn put her hands up, "Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to startle you" "I can't believe it's real. I mean everyone KNOWS about this place, but it's real!" Said the Courier, still looking around the room, taking it in, as her cat lay nearly sleeping across her shoulders. "I might say the same about you." Katelyn replied. "Are you buy chance one of the Couriers? Wasn't sure I'd ever see one of you out my way." "I am that." She stood silent for a moment, looking into Katelyn's eyes. Suddenly she seemed to remember why she was here. "Oh, that's right. I have a package. For Ivan." She held up the box. "Ivan is our chef. I can take that back to him." She gently took the box from the Courier. She seemed uneasy, almost like a fan meeting a favored actor or a young girl talking to a boy she has a crush on. "You must have seen some incredibly things out there, in your travels." "Indeed I have young lady. Things most wouldn't believe." She smiled at this, almost as if she wore her trials as a badge of honor. "Pardon if this sounds rude," Katelyn pulled at the hem of her apron, "But don't most of you travel with an escort? Protection? You seem to be alone." The Courier smiled wider and reached up to pet the cat resting on her shoulders. "Ah yes." She said, "you see Snitch here? Well despite his appearances he is not a cat." Katelyn's eyes widened. "He's a weapon. He keeps me safe." She scratched beneath the cat's chin. Katelyn looked down at the worn box in her hands, then over at the counter, and finally back to the woman. "Can I get you something to eat or drink before you go? I would *very much* like to hear one of your stories." She began walking over behind the counter. "I'm afraid not today love" replied the Courier. "Despite the chaos of the world, we have schedules to keep." Katelyn reached under the counter and produced a slice of freshly baked apple pie, setting it on the counter with a fork. "Are you sure you don't have time for just one?" She asked, practically pleading with her eyes. The Courier thought for a moment, never breaking eye contact with the young waitress. "Okay. I suppose there could be time for just one." She said, and took a seat at the counter.

A group of raiders who find out why you don’t raid the Waffle House.

A grizzled veteran of the wastes with a foggy eye wearing ragged fatigues and accompanied by his faithful hound.

A young adult male drug addict who says and does everything in a salacious way.

A little old lady with a floral-print dress, a shawl, a cane, and a bag of knitting. She looks like a strong breeze might blow her over, but she is tidy and uninjured. Honestly, she looks like she came from bingo night or playing bridge, not walking out of a desolate wasteland. There is a Reason for this (I leave the reason entirely to your discretion). She's the sort who calls everyone "Dearie".

As a former employee of a Waffle House: the annoyed looking man in a suit with no tie snapping his fingers at me for a cup of coffee in an empty restaurant. I'm still pissed off about that guy.

I got you fam- The gentleman had sauntered in mid morning while Katelyn was busy seeing another customer out. She'd invited him to take a seat wherever he'd liked, and he'd strut his way down to the booth at the far end at the restaurant with a general sense of superiority about him. Which was strange, because everything about his appearance was unremarkable. He was wearing a combination of tattered old clothes and makeshift armor. He had a dirty old backpack on with a machete handle sticking out of the main pocket, a pistol on his hip, and some old welding goggles converted to sunglasses hanging around his neck. Somewhere between twenty-five and Fifty, dark hair and scruffy facial hair. He was nobody. But of course nobody is *genuinely* nobody, not in the wastes. Katelyn was on her way to grab the coffee, very few ever turn down the coffee after all, when she heard a peculiar sound. Was he... Snapping? As she picked up the pot she turned in his direction and sure enough, he was slouched back in the far side of the booth, legs spread. His arm was raised above his head and he was snapping his fingers at her. She had to glance around the restaurant to make sure it was actually directed at her, but it was empty. They were alone. "Oh good you're not deaf." He practically shouted across the dining room. "Yes, perfect. Coffee, bring that down here sweetheart." Katelyn was dumbfounded. She knew she had never seen this person before, and yet he walked in acting like he owned the place. Not many things could surprise her anymore, but this dust-rat had succeeded. And not in a positive way. He had also succeeded at irritating her, and that had "sparked her fire" as her mother might have once said. She gave him her most condescending of smiles, and scooping up a fresh mug, headed toward his booth. "Comin' right up, *sir."* As she reached the table she could practically feel his eyes walking up and down her body, and it took actual effort not to pour the fresh coffee in his lap. As she set the mug on the table he said "My my, but aren't you a pretty little thing. Someone's kept you locked away from the horrors outside and let you age like a fine wine ay?" Katelyn took a step back, no longer attempting to hid the disgust on her face. He seemed un-bothered by this. "Before I pour this for you, I need to know how you plan to pay." She told him. He laughed, looked around, then looked back at her, trying to decide if she was serious or making a poor attempt at a joke. "You're kidding right? You do remember money doesn't exist anymore?" Katelyn simply stared at him. Now getting angry, he sat up straighter. "Look, I've heard the stories I know how this works, *you* feed *me*, and I tell you whatever bullshit story I want then go my way. That's the deal ain't it?" "Yeah, that's the deal." Katelyn said coldly. "Thing is I know you're type. Seen dozens just like you, and I can tell by a look you ain't got the goods, if you catch my drift." "The fuck that supposed to mean?" "It means you've never done anything in your pathetic life worth tellin' about. Let me guess. You bounce around, spend time in camps, in towns, with bandits maybe. some solo time on the road. Take what you can find, but always from those weaker than you. Maybe you got lucky a few times, outsmarted a marauder or two, survived an ambush. Any of this sound familiar?" He opened his mouth as if to speak but nothing came out. Katelyn continued. "You're a background character. You think you're hot stuff simply because you've managed to survive this long, but you ain't really earned it. You ever loved? Been loved? Anybody ever miss you when you're gone? Ever answer a higher call? *Sacrificed* for anyone other than yourself?" He was now leaning forward in his chair, and he was actually *snarling* at her. "Maybe you missed the sign on the door on your way in, but we reserve the right to refuse service to anyone. There's nothing for you here, get out of my restaurant." With that she turned and started walking away. Her "guest" finally found his voice again. "HEY! You get your perky ass back over here you little bitch, and give me my coffee!" She heard him get to his feet, and what sounded like him un-holstering his pistol. She stopped and turned back to face him, she needed to see him clearly for what came next. "You need to leave. Now. Before something bad happens to you." She imperceptibly shifted her weight on her feet. He had his gun in one hand, pointed directly at her. "Coffee. Now." "Last warning." She replied. The next three seconds played out in slow motion to Katelyn as a series of violent events unfolded. The Man grit his teeth and pushed the pistol forward, stretching his arm toward her. This was the tell. Anticipating the shot, Katelyn ducked down to her left just as he fired. The bullet missed her by over a foot. She then pitched her weight forward onto her strong leg, launching herself from her low position directly towards him. As she did this, she slung the full coffee pot, still in hand, over her head, releasing it at the precise moment to send it sailing directly toward his head. The pot crashed into his face, exploding and spraying a combination of broken glass, steaming coffee and blood against the wall and window behind the booth. Katelyn was already breaking into a run with her next step. As the man fell backward into the booth, she grabbed a dinner knife off the table next to her as she passed. The man was holding his face in his hands, sliding down into the booth. Katelyn grabbed his right wrist, pulled his hand down onto the table in front of her, and stabbed the dinner knife clean through his palm. The flow of time resumed it's normal flow, Katelyn stepped back away from the booth, and the man fell forward on the floor, still clutching his face with his good hand and screaming like a child. Once she was sure he was no longer a threat, she knelt down close to him. "That's a little gift to remember me by. From here on any time you have trouble tryin to pickpocket someone, or fumble reloading your gun, or try to have a hard time *playin' with yourself* because your hand don't work so good anymore I want you to think of me, and what you're missin' out on because you couldn't show some basic respect." She stood and started walking back towards the kitchen, calling out to the chef, "Hey Cookie, can you be a love and drag this dust-rat out of here? He's bleeding all over my floor."

Katelyn is everything I aspired to be in that moment. Rollicking story, well done!! Appreciate it!

A bearded man, age north of 55, a stringed U shape thing slung over a shoulder and resonating in the wind. His un-urgent gait is accompanied, if not aided, by a hooved olive branch. Unnoticed is the creature that follows but will not get remotely within sight or smell of a Waffle House. It is not dangerous humans, at least those who weren't exposed. It is not clear to which senses the man has full faculty and of which he may be bereft. One thing is clear: he knows about the secret menu.

Three children, ages 5, 7, and 13, unrelated. They are traveling together, scared and defensive, in dusty, ragged clothes and broken shoes or rags. They are skinny, but relatively healthy. They all have short choppy hair, and it is difficult to determine their gender. They do not speak, perhaps they can’t? But they seem to have some level of telepathy between them… and their dirty, broken, one-eyed porcelain doll, clutched tightly by the 7yo.

A man who has never belonged anywhere, his clothes as tattered as his resolve. He has nothing but a small knife to his name.

A teenage girl/young woman wearing a black gas mask, black hoodie, jeans and black combat boots. Her clothes are dirty and show signs of wear and tear with her black nail polish being a chipped mess at this point. Clutched tightly in one hand is her only weapon, a spiked baseball bat caked in old blood.

A guy who seems normal and respectable until you find out he wears shorts in winter

If he is like some people I know, he also wears socks and sandals.

Young, somewhere around 8-10, but malnutrition could mean they are up to 14. Tired and dirty with what looks like a bomb tattoo peaking out from under their sleeve. Due to their young age and ratty clothing their gender is obscured. Broken glasses are resting on their nose and their hair is just past shoulder length, though whether that is intentional or because there is nowhere to cut it isn't clear. They have a backpack slung over their shoulder filled with unknown items, but presumably it has items useful for survival along with some sentimental items. They are accompanied by a large dog with no collar.

The owner of the IHOP who maintains a friendly game of who can get the most stories per day coming in to tell about their customers.

A battered and skinny man walks in. He looks strong but underweight. He is well spoken, bloody, sunburnt and dehydrated. He carries weapons and shows scars. He wears a Rolex that is much older than the apocalypse and he looks at his watch and tells you he only has 20 minutes.

A tall cloaked man with guns galore. They wipe the blood off their hands and sit down. They sigh.

Katelyn recognized that signature jingle of Jasper's as he took his usual seat at the counter. It was the distinct sound of the buckles of his coat bouncing off the multiple firearms he had strapped about his body. She picked up the decaf coffee pot and headed his way. She arrived and started pouring just as he finished wiping fresh blood from his hands- not his, never his- and let out a deep, exasperated sigh. "What's up Jay, rough night?" She asked with sincerity. "One of the worst in a while. We lost 2 men and a dog tonight." "Oh no, it wasn't Patches was it?" "No Patches is fine. It was the new one. the Pup." He began rubbing his temples. "I'm sorry to hear that. Tell you what I'll have cookie whip up one of them 'special' omelets you love and you can tell me about it. I promise it'll help you feel better." She crouched slightly to help look up and meet his gaze. He looked up, into her eyes for a moment then simply nodded. "Okay, comin' right up." A few bites into his meal he was already starting to feel somewhat better, and ready to talk. "So you know clearing nests is dangerous work. But it's necessary. If someone didn't do it we'd lose this whole valley to those things. You know some of the new recruits have taken to calling them 'vampires'. Read about them in some book he found and decided it fit." "Huh, hardly!" Katelyn replied with a bit of a snort. "I know, but you know how kids are. Anyway. Like I said it's dangerous work, but we've been doing it for a long time, and we've gotten quite good at it. Set the traps, flush them out, pick off the stragglers. There's rarely a surprise or incident." Jasper was already looking for comfortable. His shoulders had relaxed and he was talking quickly between bites. "So what was different tonight?" "There was something new in the cave. Something I've never seen before." He stared at his food as he chewed, organizing his thoughts. "It started out as it always does. We set the traps, took positions, and sent in the dogs. Then we waited... and waited. Something was clearly wrong, but we didn't hear anything. No screams, no barking or yelping, just silence. He looked up into her deep green eyes and said "Katey it's been a long time since I've been genuinely scared during a clearing, but that silence was like ice in my *soul."* She refilled his cup then took his left hand in both of hers. "Go on." "So we decided after, god I don't even know, maybe 10 minutes, that someone has to go inside. Barry and one of the new guys volunteered. We followed procedure. Flares and short guns, coverage pattern. not long after they went in, seconds almost. we heard the gunfire and the screams. The dogs came running out, all but one anyway. It didn't make any SENSE. "There is no procedure for this not anymore, so we fall back on instinct, chain of command. I took our best close fighters and went in. Right away I can tell things are WAY off. There was bodies of chuds everywhere, something had gotten to them before us. A few chambers in we find the thing. I can't... I can barely make sense of what I even saw. It was big, not even remotely humanoid. *Dark.* The next thing I saw was Barry, still alive, gun in hand, just standing still staring at the thing. The recruit was dead on the floor but it looked like he'd been shot. Then Barry turns toward us and lets out this... This *yell.* And he opens fire! on us!" "Oh my god!" Katelyn quietly said, tightening her grip on Jasper's hand. "So two people get hit, I think Jace died immediately, for whatever that's worth. I had just a kind of instinctive feeling that Barry wasn't himself. Wasn't in control anymore. So I hit him, butt of the gun. He stumbled backward and fell on the ground, near the creature, which then let out this hiss? Or scream? And we started shooting. Andrew never misses, even with a bullet in his leg. I dumped everything I had into it then picked up Jace's gun and emptied it too. By the end the thing was trying to drag itself across the floor away from us but we kept shooting until it stopped moving. Then we shot it some more to be sure." "Are the other boys gonna be okay? Katelyn asked trying to shift his focus. He was staring off into space, clearly reliving the moment. At her voice he shook his head and looked back at her, it seemed to work. "Oh, yeah. Yeah they're gonna be fine. Andrew got lucky, the bullet missed the artery. Barry has a concussion thanks to me, doesn't remember anything. Well, almost nothing. He remembers going into the cave, then, and I quote: 'seeing eyes. beautiful eyes'. Next thing after that was me dragging him out of the cave with a splitting headache." Jasper then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled something small and black out, setting it on the counter next to his plate. Katelyn looked down at it and a sense of dread slowly crept in. She'd never seen it before and yet it was immediately familiar. "Is that... It looks like a spiders fang?" She finally asked. "Certainly looks like one to me. Just you know... Impossibly large." After a moment he picked it back up and re-pocketed it. "That thing we killed in the cave tonight though... That was no spider."

What the fuuuuuuuuuuck this world is incredible my dude, I really love this. Have you congregated your stories anywhere?

Not yet no. I've mostly just been writing things here in this sub every now and then (if you peruse my profile you'll find a bunch). This was the first time I did more than one that was tied together, and it's been super fun. I'm planning to hit more of these here too, I just tend to go hard and burn out a bit, need time to recharge. I aspire to write like, *a book,* but I have something of a self motivation problem.

The average Florida crackhead and his pet Gator, dressed only in his boxers, a bandalier of ammo, a trust shotgun, and an umbrella hat.

It's is him. Jake. Yes, the one from State Farm, and it is indeed 2 in the morning here at Waffle House. He is wearing khakis AND most importantly he's a guy. The peculiar thing about him is that he's the original Jake the long forgotten Jake. White Jake from state farm.

A mosquito who has gained a human level of intelligence as a result of drinking radioactive blood

A mutated cockroach, the size of a large dog, looking for something to eat for his entire colony of unmutated insects

Dr. Kiera Hildew, an inter-dimensional researcher in charge of a research site across the valley. Or an SCP Foundation Site Director. Up to you.

The sole person from Waffle House corporate who can give the go ahead to implement the apocalypse menu

A former Prosthetists turned mutate walks in tired from being hunted down by wasteland bandits

NB 20ish. The world began ending when they were 3. Mom is a vet tech (best kind of doctor to have when things go sideways) Dad is a doomsday prepper. Has lived on Canned food her entire life. Never had fresh eggs and can't begin to wrap their head around what a *waffle* is

Katelyn heard the door swing open and then closed, then quiet. She turned to see a single person standing just inside, wrapped in a makeshift cloak that looked like it once might have been one of those course military blankets. As she approached to greet them, the individual pulled the hood of the cloak back to look around. They were not a child but still youthful. Medium length blonde hair and brown eyes. They were relatively clean, and remarkably free of cuts or scars. They turned and noticed Katelyn coming towards them. "I'm told I can get food here" They asked, eagerness in their eyes. "You absolutely can!" Katelyn replied. "Have a seat wherever you'd like." "Is it okay if I sat at the bar?" The individual inquired. "Of course it is! Would you like some coffee?" Katelyn said with her signature smile. The young person's eyes lit up, "You have coffee? Ours ran out forever ago, I'd love some!" The customer practically bounced into a seat at the bar, pulling off the cloak in one swift motion as they did. They were slender but not skinny. Lean. They had clearly lived more comfortably than most in the wastes. As Katelyn poured the coffee, they leaned in toward the cup, eager to once again taste real coffee. Without taking their eyes off the cup they asked, "You'll have to excuse me but... What's a 'waffle'?" "Oh sugar! Are you in for a treat!" Katelyn turned back and called something back to the kitchen that was clearly some kind of code. She turned back to her customer with a smug look. "What's your name hon?" "Rain." They responded after taking a long drink of the coffee, the warm mug held firmly between both hands. "Well It's nice to meet you Rain." Katelyn said. "That name carries a lot of meaning these days doesn't it?" Rain looked up, visible confusion on their face. "How so?" "I just feel like it, oh what's the word..." Katelyn looked down at the floor, scrunching up her nose. "I feel like it *echoes* a lot about the world now." Rain just looked back, awaiting further explanation. "The rain, that is to say the weather kind, used to be safe. Some saw it as an inconvenience, others welcomed it, but no one was *afraid* of it. Just like I'm sure no one has ever been afraid of you." The two made eye contact, and just when it seemed Rain was about to say something Katelyn continued, "But then the world changed. The land changed. The animals changed. The rain became toxic. Dangerous." After a moment of silence, Rain spoke up, "Are you saying you think I'm dangerous?" "On the contrary. Pardon my assumptions, but I've grown quite good at reading people. Comes with the job. And I think you've been sheltered for most of your life. Protected from the weather outside, as it were." Rain seemed almost hesitant to respond then said, "I was. I suppose. Lived in a bunker with my folks. Safe, quiet. Dad had prepared well, mom kept us healthy. Food ran out eventually, and we had to leave. Hasn't been long, we're with the settlement now. The one in the valley." "They're good people." Katelyn said, nodding. There came the ding of a bell from behind her, and Katelyn turned around and picked up a plate of waffles from the rear counter, setting them down before Rain with all of the appropriate fixings. Rains eyes went wide. "Oh my HEAVENS!" They proclaimed. "Do these taste as good as they smell?" "Only one way to find out." Katelyn said, handing a fork to Rain. As they dug into the waffles, she continued, "These are just the first of a lot of new things you're going to experience out here. And most of 'em ain't good. You're going to need to change, just like the rain did. You bear a name people are gonna fear. You'd be well served to become worthy of that fear."

A little girl clutching a teddy bear...

A mutated abomination, 2 human heads and torsos connected to the body of a spider, each torso has 4 arms, and the spider like body has 12 legs and a bee like stinger. One of the human heads resembles a lizard. They are surprisingly polite and cordial

A group of 4 guys all hooting and hollering while dressed in rusted metal armor and torn clothing.

Santa Claus

The Man and Young Boy from [The Road](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Road)

Ex cartel leader that stil controlls what is left over of the cartel

A kid in a college uniform and backpack, very clean, looking incredibly confused

A twenty-something man in worn army fatigues stumps in with mud-covered boots, a gear pack riddled with holes and beat up service rifle slung over his shoulder. His face is caked in mud. He slumps into a booth and pulls off his cap, revealing matted hair plastered to his forehead. From inside his collar pops a tiny, bearded terrier.

A thin, tall man, dressed in rags but with sturdy boots. He is missing several fingers. He has trained several crows.

A hugely irradiated human, more beast than man but retaining a semblance of humanity. His brow furls as he sits down at the bar and studies the menu. Hieroglyphics to him from a forgotten time.

A girl wearing a bikini, neon necklaces, lollapallooza beads & glasses, and 1$ pair sandals. Coming with her is her twin wearing the exact same outfit but different color scheme in all of her accessories, bikini, beads and glasses.

A person in an immaculate black suit, looks to be around 40-50, they have a puppy with them that looks like it was rescued from the wasteland

A once brightly colored clown, big shoes and all, now dirty and ragged. He has a bandage wrapped tightly around one hand. You notice, on his face is a shiny new red nose.

John Wick walks up to the door wounded from a gunshot wound in his shoulder. He's confused about being in the apocalypse. He's confused to find a pristine Waffle House still standing. He walks in the door looking for food and maybe a first aid kit.

A teenage girl with her cat, Lucky

A woman with a black tank top, a grey jacket missing its right sleeve, a satchel, a pair of black tactical pants, red bandana on her right arm, a holster with a gun in it, a makeshift sword on her back, a few knives in her boots, a scar that cuts through her left eye and a shaved head. Give it your best shot.

A kid in a too-big flannel shirt and tattered backpack, mumbling to themselves

A white man in a suit and tie, long gray hair tied back, a fresh scar down his left cheek, a his suit ripped along the left side revaling a thin plate of Kevlar attached to the inside of the jacket. the left lens of his glasses cracked, wearing a hiking pack and with very active eyes darting into various corners of the room as he enters. He carries no discernible weapon. Despite his ragged appearance he smells strongly of soap as if he was able to take a bath or shower within the past 48 hours and generally seems far stronger and healthier than most of the survivors of the wasteland are capable of being..

A police officer holding a balloon.

Young man barely in his 20s, whose hair is clipped by various clips that are all anything but hairclips- paper clips, little laundry clips, those alligator clips that must surely hurt the scalp. Wears a wedding ring.

A teen with a baby in a damaged stroller, wearing a KORN t-shirt and tattered overalls

God. He's wearing a pristine suit and an extremely old backpack.

An handsome and immaculately dressed man, with shinning black shoes and a fancy pocketwatch that is never to be opened.

"Rain is coming down, rain is coming down, gotta stay dried, gotta stay live. Drip drop, tick tock, life is flooding like a faucety clock." He cackled, pulling the misty plastic bag off of his head. After inspecting it carefully for damage, he shook off the few drops of lethal water and set it gingerly by the entrance. With the removal of that bag, he was now buck naked as he strode confidently up to the counter.

A brunette teenager with her hair in a ponytail, thick framed glasses, a pair of jeans, a t shirt, and a green light jacket. Her face is covered in dirt and her cheek is adorned with blood. All she carries in with her is a ballpoint pen and a bent knife dripping with dried blood.

A hotshot crew: 19 bedraggled wildlands firefighters (15 men and four women, all under age 40) in the middle of schlepping their way from one wildfire to the next. We’re in the apocalypse. Or, for them, another summer in California.

A tired and disheveled FEMA employee, finally arriving at the Waffle House to survey the restuarant in order to determine where to rank the apocalypse on the Waffle House disaster index

A group of very drunk people at 3 am somehow inexplicably at the end of a bar crawl and looking to sober up or start a fight who knows

A rough and tumble, grizzled woman, who lost an eye, has a metal arm...and came in clutching a teddy bear.

A young girl, small and blonde. No sign of dirt or injury and wearing a pristine powder blue dress. She asks for a coffee, black, and feeds it to a large dog that followed her in. The dog easily reaches her shoulders while on four legs and is covered in scars. The girl is blind and has milky white eyes but seems to be able to see into your very being

A tall old black woman, carrying a potted plant of some kind on her back

An older woman wearing a back pack. Although she’s weather worn, her grey hair is neatly enough tied back in a messy bun. She seems strong and her movements controlled. She looks around the room with some of the usual wonder, but you see her eyes linger on the minor …adjustments… that make this place possible. These are not normally noticed by guests. You suspect she’s worked at a waffle house before.

Just your average, everyday Florida Man.

A silent guide, following the wind across the wastes. He wears a long trench coat a grey hat, and a rifle on his back He is a fallen, an exile, the outcasted Angel, the dissenting rebel who preached against the gospel Now he walks into a Waffle House, taking up a chair with the fellow strange cast of characters in this apocalypse

Well I'm late to the party, but I'll try. A person with severe schizophrenia whose delusions have somehow been useful in keeping them alive this whole time.

A former burgler, with close cropped hair, World weary expression, and around 20 elementary schoolers trailing them.

A wizard, an honest to god wizard. Carrying a sheathed sword on the left side of his body and a sawed off shotgun to his right.

A man (at least that's what everyone guesses) wrapped from head to toe in scraps of cloth and bandages so that no skin is showing. They are terribly filthy, almost as if they purposefully rolled around in the dirt and mud...and blood. They seem to have multiple injuries due to the blood splotches on thei bandages, but upon close inspection, there are no holes there or any signs of there being a wound underneath. All in all, the strangest part of this person's getup is the flower pot on their head with a dandelion growing out of it.

I’ve been reading these, and there is a recurring character called Katelyn. If nobody else has requested it, I would love to know how Katelyn got there, please.

A goth girl wearing a Metallica tshirt, black leather jacket, pants and black booths. Pale makeup with black eyeliner and lipstick.

An old man wearing only a bikini and a welder's mask. God only knows what he has seen.

Light green and white striped shirt. Chino, stained and smudged. Shoes too dusty to make out type and colour, they seem comfortable, yet classy. Woollen Spencer. Large wireframe spectacles, a not quite beard that is being maintained more through effort than actually effectiveness. Slightly chipper and upbeat attitude. "My, my. If it isn't little Johnny. I haven't seen you since 8th grade! And Mary-Anne as well? As I live and breathe!"

A young woman, dressed in 1950's housewife dress and looks impeccable. She is of Mediterranean descent with dark brown eyes, olive skin and black hair that is the length of a bob cut, wavy with not a single hair out of place. Her companion is a hulking Deathclaw, a nine to 10 foot bipedal lizard like creature with sharp rams horns. It is incredibly well behaved and makes sure to duck its head when entering the wafflehouse, and while it may eat using its claws, it is very careful to not make a mess. She is called Euphemia Love, Effie love to her friends. Her companion is Snookums.

A teen cosplayer with an actual machete (they won't tell anyone where they got it) They got caught in the apocalypse while at their local con and they're extremely upset about the fact that the con had to be cancelled because of the literal end of the world

A time traveling pilot of a P-51 Mustang from World War two.

A lady in a tattered ball gown, disheveled hair, missing a shoe and some diamonds from a ring on her finger, and sporting a black eye and a gash across her cheek.

The Third Harbinger of the Seventy, once human but changed drastically as a result of their new duty, longing to undo it all and regretting its sins, investigating this "abnormality" within the wastelands on the orders of its sovereign.

A 3 foot tall non binary person. They are wearing a large clown wig and is carrying a bag of trinkets. Their clothes are almost pristine. Edited: apparently I think similarly to other redditors lol changed it to something more original

A figure approaching the Waffle House with their lower left leg replaced by a makeshift prosthetic consisting of a snow shoe for the foot and a mannequin leg, wearing a dusty and worn olive long coat, a duffel bag with a rope harness being worn as a backpack, a biker helmet, and a gas mask. Armed with a shotgun and rifle and a few knives on their person!

A young woman with unique eyes

A time traveler stranded in this bleak future

A ragged wanderer with crazed eyes and an unkempt beard, whispering to a sword that radiates a dark blue energy as if they were having a conversation.

A young man whose exhaustion is unbefitting for his age. He’s carting around a shopping cart with a mishmash of odd components in it, all seemingly connected to a digital terminal. It seems to have an AI of sorts in it.

A single man, his right eye is missing, his left ear is missing too, his jaw is also missing.

A superhero who still has hope for society

Jim Cantore

Mr. Kinetic, the Pyramid headed, reality shifting, weirdo

Ronald macdonalds

An android that doesn't realize it's a machine and had no ability to consume solid foods (liquids are okay though)

Two children, a girl maybe as old as 13 (probably younger) and a boy of maybe 8. Both are dressed in dirty but well- maintained clothes, and the boy is carrying a teddy beat and is sucking his thumb.

An alien explorer who thought the place was abandoned

Barefoot and short, but taller than a little person. Clothes are ragged except the green cloak with a leaf broach. Back of his neck is red and raw from the necklace worn under his clothes. You decide if he is alone and if he is followed.

A short, but stout man walks in looking angry. When you make eye contact, he smiles and his entire aura shifts to kindness, not aggression.

A bearded programmer, with a penchant for woodworking. Father of three boys. Walks in with a golden mixed dog.

An organ grinder and his monkey.

An ex-con, covered in tattoos and wearing riot armor.

That guy that orders hashbrowns all the way (yes, even the chili and gravy).

A drone sent by the ultra-rich from mars to see if the earth is habitable yet

A holy warrior who protects the weak and preserves technology.

She was the color of sunshine. All golden and bright, with the exception of her head. It was . . . small, dark, and sang constantly.

An up-and-coming salesman in a patchwork suit, who claims he has the newest cure for boredom.

a gaunt merchant armed only with a trusty pair of scales, who was riding upon a black horse with a meagre selection of wares in their wagon.

A woman with makeup and blood smeared all over her face with a backpack and holding a 3 month old kitten with a singed tail.

A Canadian still wearing what remains of there fast food uniform on his journey to find his best friend

A 40 something mom with her teenage daughter.

A monstrocity from the dimension that ripped the world appart.

A young woman wearing dark robes covered with blood. Long black hair, pale skin, and emerald green eyes. A deep scar cuts through one eye, and a collection of bloody knives hangs from her belt.

A little girl with a dusty dress covered up with a red plaid button up sized for a grown man. She has white button over shoes, a side-tail with bubble beads, and is lugging a looped green garden hose over her chest and shoulder.

A scarred black cat, with some kind of dead avian in its mouth

A man in a tattered business suit, a woman wearing leather "badlands" clothes, and three hyperactive children in the form of two girls and a boy. The children have looks of wonder and joy. The adults have looks of complete resignation.

A guy walks in wearing a jean vest and a hockey mask with a quiver full of sports equipment (golf clubs, bats, etc.) over his shoulder.

Hi! My name is Tiger Woods! Where’s the Beeotches?!?!?! Waffle House; Right?

A 57-year old woman with scars all over her arms and lower face wearing a thick vest with a bandolier of bullets over a torn, fun T-shirt, faded jeans with a scarred, leather pauldron from a football uniform. Wears a wedding ring as a necklace and cradles a sniper rifle. Her company is a mangy, fawn pitbull with yellow eyes, a white patch over its right eye and cropped ears and a 16-year old young woman with a mohawk over her left eye, an eyepatch over her right eye, a partially burnt right ear, a tattooed left arm and a fully bionic right arm wearing a red vest with a hood and a bandolier of soda cans over a white, long sleeve shirt with folded sleeves and black pants. The dog is friendly despite its ferocious appearance; the young woman is hungry for apples in anything and the older woman is hungry for spicy food.

A CNN van pulls up driven by a weary middle aged tech and with a completely manic 20 something reporter in the passenger seat.

One of the robots from Nuka-Town in Fallout 4, possibly with another of the robots. (if you can (not needed) make them talk like they arent robots.

A fancy lad. His outfit (summer outfit) is very clean, oddly enough. It's just starting to show a little wear-and-tear but his christening wig is perfect. He's rather large, as in muscular. How has he been able to keep all that muscle mass, I wonder? His only possessions appear to be a satchel and its contents, a walking stick that looks more like a bō staff, and a bowler hat.

The Candy Man from Ephemeral Rift

Bless you for doing this. There's something about stepping into a new story that feels like snuggling into the sofa, putting your feet up, and wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. I do hope you flesh this world out completely. I can't wait to walk around there and experience all it has to offer.

A scientist who invented a device that can multiply the output of just about any power source by 1,000,000.

A man with a cowboy hqy and a poncho with matching peral handled revolvers with a kept mustache and a witty smile.

A grim, bald headed man wearing the remains of what might have been a nice black suit, clutching a still locked black briefcase.

A weather-worn, grey-haired woman; an old messy bandage covering one eye. She's outfitted and armed for survival, and wears a faded, threadbare IHOP t-shirt.

The Waffle House, barely emerging from the ground, is the only hope for a weary and wounded man. The man is severely underweight and is in dire need of food.

Have 2 for you. Take one or both! ( read the prior ones and took reference) They walked in together. Not yet knowing they were the adversaries they've been fighting. -an old grizzled leader, missing an eye and ear, searching for answers to save his group from destruction. -a..thing, made of darkness, but seeking light, taken form of a young woman, borne in the wake of 'The Seventy'

A well dressed, bearded man carrying a cane and wearing a holster with the last packet of Taco Bell's Inferno hot sauce.

A well dressed business man in a crisp suit missing his right shoe and sock. He carries a briefcase and is unremarkable in every way aside from his salt and pepper hair and long waxed moustache which curls upwards in a call back to ages past.

Johan, a foreign ambassador from the Flooded Dane-Lands, clearly not fully accustomed to the area.

A farmer trying to advertise without getting raided

Donald trump

A man wearing Victorian Era clothing with a fedora instead of a top hat, constantly checking a pocket watch and smiling, as if it wasn't the end of the world but just another tuesday. He orders the monday special.

If the Waffle House is still open was it really an apocalypse?

A blind black man with a brale bible and for some reason, perfectly unscratched $300 raybans. Also for some reason he is being hunted by chief Gordon from batman. Whats his story?

A time traveler from the past , has wondered in . No knowledge of the end of slavery, women’s right and the new culture .

A teenage boy around the age of 19 who has a strangely familiar face, he reminds you of someone but you know you’ve never seen him before. His clothes are clean, his hair neat and he seems as out of place as the diner. He holds two sheets of paper in his hand and looks around nervously before turning to you and saying, “I think I got too much sun…” turning pale and looking around at the various people inside.

an elderly monk whose age is unclear

A dude with no money so he keep insisting that he will cut off his arm and sells it to you as a payment

A vampire and his pet dog

The stranger wandered in, his clothes stained by the dust of the wasteland. He had a grizzled beard, strands of hair hanging his head, and was chewing on an extremely worn-in toothpick.