Superstore Parking Lot

“After 9 PM, the lot isn’t empty… he’s still there, waiting.”
By PK

It had been one of those cold, wet Surrey evenings where the rain never seemed to stop. I’d been on my feet since morning, and by the time I pulled into the Newton Canadian Superstore, I just wanted to grab my groceries and get home.

It was 9:20 PM. Closing time was less than forty minutes away. The lot was nearly empty — just a few scattered cars sitting under the dim orange glow of streetlamps. A single bulb above the side entrance flickered, buzzing in the damp air.

That’s when I saw him.

A man sat on the wet pavement near the cart return. His posture was unnerving — not hunched to keep warm, but unnaturally still, his back straight, his head bowed low, arms hanging limp at his sides.

No sign. No cup. No movement.

I slowed my pace, my footsteps echoing faintly. Maybe he was asleep. Maybe worse. But then I noticed something that made my stomach knot.

He wasn’t wet.

The rain had been falling for hours, soaking everything, yet his jacket was bone-dry. Even his shoes looked spotless — like he hadn’t walked through the lot at all.

I told myself to ignore it, that I was just overtired, and hurried into the store.

Inside, only a few late-night shoppers roamed the aisles. I grabbed my items quickly, eager to get back to the warmth of my car.

When I stepped outside again, the cart return was empty. He was gone.

Or so I thought.

I loaded my groceries into the trunk, slammed it shut, and that’s when I heard them — wet footsteps. Slow. Heavy. Dragging.

I turned.

He was standing now — just outside the light’s reach, hood still low, face hidden.

A chill slid down my spine. I backed toward my car door, telling myself maybe he just needed help. Maybe—

He snapped his head up.

And I’ll never forget that face.

Bloated. Rotting. Skin peeling away in grey, soggy folds like it had been underwater for too long. One socket was empty, the other held a pale, cloudy eye that drifted toward me. His grin stretched too wide, revealing blackened teeth… and something moving between them.

Something alive.

I yanked my door open and threw myself inside, locking it instantly. My hands were trembling as I started the engine.

He didn’t move.

He just stood there, smiling.

As I reversed, my headlights caught him fully. His clothes were still perfectly dry. Not a single raindrop touched him.

I sped home without looking back.

But when I got inside, my phone buzzed.

A new photo. One I hadn’t taken.

It was me, standing by my car, groceries in hand.

And behind me…
The beggar.
Smiling.
His hand almost touching my shoulder.

I deleted it instantly.

It came back the next morning.

And every night since, there’s a new one.
Each photo closer than the last.
Soon, there won’t be any space left between us.