The Night Operator Novels & Stories

But how can I be sure that you won't hurt me again? Adam: I understand your hesitation, but please know that I love you and I am committed to making things work between us. Samantha: Okay, I'm willing to try. Where are we going tonight? Adam: It's a surprise! But I promise you'll love it. Samantha smiles and they head out for their date night. They arrive at a fancy restaurant with dim lighting and a live band playing jazz music. Samantha: Adam, this place is amazing! How did you find it?

Damien stood at the window of the operations room, arms crossed tightly across his chest, the night painting shadows across his features. “Project Nightfall,” he said under his breath. “I’ve heard whispers… but I never believed it was real.” Splice spun in her chair, fingers dancing across the keyboard. “It’s more than real. It was a ghost operation—off-grid, off-record, and buried so deep even the syndicates whispered about it like a damn bedtime story.”

Our schedules only overlapped briefly, with her arriving as I was about to clock out. At the start of the first day, the manager briefed us, the new hires, on the operational norms. "Remember, the customer is always right. You must cater to their every whim. We have two distinct sets of clientele: those who frequent the establishment during the day and those who visit at night. Hence, your shifts are divided accordingly. Day workers attend to the daytime customers, and when the night crowd arrives, the night workers take over." By the end of my first day, I was as exhausted as a dog chasing its tail, having served food to a parade of rude people. I was very tempted to spit in their food but

"Besides, someone has to keep you out of trouble." A weak smile tugged at the corners of my lips. Dr. Wright, despite her frail appearance, possessed a surprising amount of courage. The night of the operation arrived, cloaked in an inky blackness that mirrored the unease churning within me. We donned dark clothing, our faces obscured by black masks. Agent [redacted]'s team, a group of silent shadows, materialized from the darkness, their movements precise and efficient. With a curt nod, they vanished into the woods, their mission to create the necessary chaos. We waited, every tick of the clock an eternity, until a distant explosion ripped through the night, followed by a flurry of activity.

I had no desire or intention of walking away from a relationship that felt as right as ours did. Nevi explained that he found daylight uncomfortable, but could walk in it; more so than a night-walker not born of human flesh. He preferred to live a lifestyle that encompassed night whenever possible. This was why I’d met him at such a late hour at his convenience store. He actually went into it in the evenings to manage as much as he could. He had a pretty competent staff and was rarely called upon to go there during daylight hours. This explained his continual disappearing acts in the middle of the night.

He had enough ghosts of his own. It happens on the fifth night. The neon sign was buzzing outside the shop as the last customer left. The car wash shut down. Jaylen locked the front doors, Marco mopped the tile and Rico was still shirtless in the wash bay, scrubbing oil stains from the cement floor. The security camera above him were blinking red. Upstairs, The Boss lit a cigarette and watched him on the screen. Smoke curled from his lips as he took in the image: Rico bent over, his muscles taut and his sweats were dripping down his spine.

“When is that? My next shift?” “We’ll be revamping during the day. Everyone starts back tomorrow night as normal,” he said. “Great, see you tomorrow night then. I normally work the ten to two shift,” she said. “Sure, sweetheart, see you tomorrow night,” Nitro said. Klara grabbed Jamie’s hand and she could feel the other men watching her. She turned her head and saw Nitro talking to Bandit, both of them watching her as she headed to the door and the parking lot at the back.

Finally, I could breathe a sigh of relief. Turning to the gate, I saw the old guard give me a dirty look as he waited in his office, his hands folded across his chest. Poor guy had been woken up from his slumber in the middle of the night and now has to wait till I get inside, so he can lock the gates once again and go back to his beauty sleep. I gave him an apologetic look and explained to him that Night has been taken to the hospital for his fever, and won’t be returning for a while.

"Bella, we haven't seen each other for a long time. Do you have time now? I have a lot of things to share with you. Let's meet at Night Bar later!" Night Bar, located in the center of New York City, was a high-end bar whose customers were mainly spoiled brats and some business people. After hanging up the phone, I stopped a taxi on the roadside and headed straight for the Night Bar. ******* I pushed open the door of the Night Bar. Under the dizzying lights, a group of men and women danced on the dance floor, fueled by restless music and alcohol. I squeezed my way to the bar and asked, "Hello, please help me check the private room that Helen Payten booked."

I give it a couple more rings before saying to Annalise, “They must be closed for the night. We can try again another day.” Just before I pressed the button, a female’s voice comes over the speaker. “Nightmoon and Co, Mr Nightmoon’s office. How can I help you?” I clear my throat and say, “I would like to speak with Mr Nightmoon. Tell him it is Randall Remington.” “Just a moment, please.” I have always hated the on-hold music from companies like this one. You would think that they would get something at least worth listening to. I am about to put my hand through the phone when a smooth male voice comes over the speaker.