Midnight At The Blackbird Cafe Novels & Stories

My mind blurred Marianne. "Okay, let's go to this cafeteria," I agreed. I was looking forward to hearing everything he had to say to me. But also, let me tell him everything I was keeping in my heart. We entered the cafe hand in hand. We found an empty table near a window and somewhat away from the other customers and sat down. When the waiter came to our table, we gave him our order, and in a few minutes, he returned with our coffees. Steamy and fragrant.

Damien Blackwood POV The early morning light filtered through the tall windows of the breakfast room in Blackwood Mansion, casting long golden beams across the polished oak table. I sat alone, a cup of freshly brewed tea steaming beside me as I scrolled through overnight reports on my tablet. European market updates. Construction progress on the new headquarters wing. Investor emails requesting meetings. Everything was exactly as it should be — orderly, predictable, under control. Everything except my thoughts.

"But offering a clean mirror." She raised her popsicle in a silent toast. "Then let him earn it." August scorched the town. Power outages. Dust. Kids running barefoot through sprinklers that sputtered more air than water. I kept building. Sanctuaries, not spotlights. Clarity—the cafe—hosted a monthly open mic now. Letty painted a mural on the back wall that read: *"Truth lives here."—*in a dozen languages. And one day, out of nowhere, Marcus showed up at my door with a lemon pie and said, "This one’s from your tree."

she asked. I smiled and parted my lips to speak when…. “May I take your order?”a waitress asked as she stood in front of our table and I sighed when I realized we were at a Cafe. The surroundings seemed to fade away into the background when I was with Darana. “Black coffee” I said, without taking my eyes of Darana to look at the waitress. Darana sighed and looked at the waitress. “Just water”. She retraced her focus back to me when the waitress was gone and waited for me to speak.

The workshop started small six people on Zoom every other Wednesday at 9 p.m., when Lagos had finally quieted enough for real listening. Adeyemi called it “Reading After Dark.” No syllabus. No grades. Just books, questions, and whatever came up when people felt safe enough to speak.

“They’re sending a car for you in an hour. For the scans. Alex is just finishing calls.” “Of course he is,” I murmured. She hesitated like she wanted to say more. Then she left. The second the door clicked shut, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. One vibration. Then another. I reached for it, thumb skimming the screen. Unknown number. > Black House. Midnight. Come alone. A location ping followed: a dropped pin in the meatpacking district. A club I’d heard a hundred gossip references to and never seen. Black House.

He simply watched me leave without alerting anyone. _________ I drove at a high speed. My thoughts were all on meeting Grace and asking her questions. The city thinned as I cut through back roads. I parked in an alley that smelled faintly of coffee and old rain. The café sign flickered once before settling. BLACK JUNIPER — 24 HOURS A few people sat scattered across the room, looking calm and uninterested as they took their evening snack. It was exactly how I’d paid for it. Grace was already there.

19th August 2022 The Prom was to start at 8 pm. Avyanna was tensed as usual. Lala tried to calm her nerves but Avyanna was both very anxious and excited. Avyanna had gone earlier that day to see Ruby, but when she came home she felt bad energy emanating from their house. She couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from. There were black shadows that would hover around the plant and trees. Avyanna hoped she wasn't hallucinating again. This would be a major relapse in her mental health.

Justin remained staring out at the blackened sky from the window. He hadn't spoken to me for some time seemingly content to stand in silence. Emma left for her shift a while ago to prepare breakfast for the morning meal. She wouldn't be back for some time. The stars flickered through the curtains dotting the ceiling in starlight. The snow capped mountains beyond stood proud and ominously against the star flecked sky. “Goodnight Val.” Justin eventually murmured heading for the door.

The air outside is damp and cold, smelling faintly of rain. The car across the street—the black one, tinted windows—sits where it always does. I force myself not to look at it twice. West End Café is only fifteen minutes away. And "Mr. Black" is waiting. ——— CAINE I arrive early, of course. Always early. The West End Café hums with the mid-morning crowd—students with laptops, retirees lingering over newspapers, a few suits huddled over espresso shots. Ordinary. Safe. That's what makes it perfect.