Prologue
[An excerpt from a Federal Anomaly Taskforce memorandum]
The term ‘liminal space’ refers to a location which is a transition between two other locations, or states of being. These spaces are often unsettling, creepy, or just considered odd. Typically because liminal spaces are usually abandoned, outdated, and oftentimes empty.
A mall at 4am, a school hallway during summer, or an empty diner at night, for example. This makes it feel frozen and slightly unsettling, but also familiar to our minds. We try to fill in the gaps of these spaces with things our brains can make sense of…all the while the spaces themselves ultimately make no sense.
It should be noted that liminal space aesthetics have expanded in scope to include images of places that are simply nostalgic, dreamlike, and/or uncanny, to the point where the only remaining common trait across these ramifications is the striking absence of people. Liminal spaces are captured primarily through photographs, many of which are edited or doctored to give them their unsettling appearance.
Only a few genuine liminal spaces exist in our real, tangible world. And it is the opinion of this researcher, that they should be avoided at all costs, as their dreamlike, nostalgic but unsettling, and uncanny nature…foretells something much, much more unnatural to our world.
Let’s turn our attention to the Golden Spoon Diner along the interstate lines between the South and the Mid-Atlantic. An inauspicious retro diner with a colorful and intriguing past…if you’re paying attention to the signs.
First opened in the spring of 1953, the Golden Spoon Diner was built in the traditional galley style common in America. A long 2000 square foot building with a partially exposed kitchen, diner counter seating, and booths along its exterior windows, illuminated by bright neon signs on the inside and out.
When you think of a classic 50’s diner, both in the original sense and the ‘retro’ style that became popular in America in the late 1970’s, the Golden Spoon fits the description perfectly. Black and white checkered floors, cushy red vinyl upholstered seats, a jukebox in the corner, serving greasy, comforting faire like cheeseburgers, french fries, and milkshakes.
It opened to 1950’s America with a great deal of fanfare, offering burgers, malts, and rock and roll music to hungry teens and families of Taft Springs. However this success was short lived: less than a year later the Golden Spoon Diner was closed and shuttered after an anomalous event locals dubbed the ‘cheerleader milkshake madness of 53’ (Fig 07, pg 23).
An explanation for the strangely localized hysteria was never discovered, and so the diner lay abandoned for over twenty years…until it was renovated and reopened in 1975. It kept the same name as the original diner, as well as much of its original decor and furnishings. As it was located on the interchange between Route 15 and Route 5, its parking lot was expanded to accommodate shipping trucks. The Golden Spoon became a popular truck stop.
Among the new staff was a fresh faced teenager, Gertrude Velnitz, who would go on to become the owner of the diner some 15 years later.
-Janet Q Henterghast, junior researcher, Federal Anomaly Taskforce
Chapter 1
“You’re late again, small fry!” came Gerty’s deep, raspy voice as Quinn walked in the front door of the diner, “Schedule says 3pm sharp!”
Quinn swallowed, avoiding Gerty’s menacing gaze as he scurried quickly to the punch clock on the wall. Gerty’s Golden Spoon Diner remained much as it was most afternoons: dead and empty. Even tumbleweeds had better sense than to tumble through these parts.
“C’mon Gert, there’s nobody here! Who am I gonna be late to flip burgers for? Ghosts? Invisible people?” Quinn joked. The stout young man brushed back his curly red hair before throwing on a clean white cook’s apron. It was a little snug on Quinn’s pudgy body. He’d gone from having a Freshman 15 in college, to getting a post graduate gut from snacking on diner food all day long. I’ll lose the weight once I get a better job…or get out of this town, he thought to himself.
Gerty chuckled, shaking her head. Quinn’s boss was an enormous brunette woman in her forties. Her long, dark hair was flecked with streaks of gray, which swirled up her dark beehive hairdo. Her baby blue waitress uniform was big enough to double as a pup tent, because Gerty was nearly five hundred pounds of blubber.
She put her plump hands on her wide-set hips, making her whole body jiggle. Gerty was nearly all belly and ass, practically surrounded by a plush innertube of thick fat from her middle to her rear. It was impossible not to notice it, as she waddled through the diner with a wiggle in her walk, and the boss was fond of throwing her weight around.
Quinn would never tell Gerty, but the rumor around Taft Springs was that her old fry cook didn’t quit; she was smooshed to death under Gerty’s fat ass.
Not a bad way to go, though… Quinn thought to himself, getting ready at the serving counter.
“That’s the problem with you college kids these days,” Gerty shook her head disapprovingly, “You’ve got no drive, no ambition. You wanna make it big in the world,” she lifted up her huge belly for emphasis, letting it slap down on the serving counter with a tremendous *thud*, “you’ve got to show up on time, ready to work. You gotta treat life like a piece of pie, small fry” she smiled, her ruby red painted lips spreading wide, “Pick it up…and gulp it down” she pantomimed eating a slice in one bite.
“Sounds like you’ve had a lot of practice” Quinn blurted out, the joke too good to pass up. He bit his lip as soon as he’d said it.
