The Endless Guests
Charles had invited six of his closest friends for dinner, a small but elegant gathering. The wine was rich, the food well-received, and the conversation lively. He felt accomplished as a host. But then, at some point in the evening, things became... off.
He checked the clock. 11:59 PM. Strange. He was sure it had been near midnight when he last looked, but he must have been mistaken.
The guests showed no signs of tiring. Their laughter remained just as crisp, their faces locked in perpetual amusement. No one yawned, no one glanced at a watch or a phone. They simply continued eating and drinking as though the night had just begun.
"Another glass?" Miriam asked, holding up the decanter.
Charles hesitated. "I think we're all set, thanks."
She smiled, a little too wide, and poured anyway.
He tried again, later. "It's getting late. Maybe we should call it a night?"
There was a moment of silence. Then they all laughed. A light, musical sound, but wrong, somehow—too rehearsed, too perfectly timed.
"But we just got here," Daniel said, swirling his wine.
"No, it's—" Charles turned to the clock again. Still 11:59. His breath caught in his throat. "It's been hours."
"Oh, Charles," Vivian said, patting his arm. "You're always so dramatic."
The guests returned to their endless dinner, chatting and eating and drinking. No one left their seats. No one even stood, except to refill a plate or glass. The candles never burned lower. The food never diminished, no matter how much they ate.
A cold dread settled into his stomach. He tried to leave the room, but every time he stepped toward the door, someone intercepted him—offering a dish, a joke, a story. Each time, he was subtly guided back to his seat.
The windows showed only darkness outside. No moon, no stars. Just an empty void, pressing against the glass.
Charles forced a smile. "I just need some air."
"Oh, but it's such a wonderful night in here," Miriam said, tilting her head slightly, her grin never faltering.
Something inside him snapped. He grabbed the nearest plate and hurled it at the wall. It shattered, food splattering across the wallpaper. The guests fell silent. Then, as one, they turned to him.
Charles swallowed hard.
"You're right," Daniel said. "Perhaps we should clean that up."
They all stood at once. Their chairs scraped against the hardwood floor.
Charles bolted for the door. He reached for the handle—
And found himself back at the table.
His breath came in ragged gasps. His hands trembled in his lap. The guests were seated again, sipping their wine. The shattered plate was whole, the food back in its place. The candle flames flickered cheerfully.
"Another drink, Charles?" Miriam asked.
He looked to the clock.
11:59 PM.
He let out a choked laugh. "Of course. Why not?"
They all smiled.
The dinner continued.