Donovan

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It’s been months since I've walked in this bar...

    I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but it feels all too unsettling when I stand on the corner of this decrepit bar. Although, I’m much over due for a strong drink after the shit I’ve endured. Sebastian would normally be the only reason for me to poke my head in this place, but his absence is more poignant than I initially thought. The creak of rusted door frame screamed as I opened it. The smell of someone’s home upon initial entry gave me a brief sense of nostalgia, until the wave of pungent smoke, piss and faint mold attacked my senses. No amount of cleaning supplies could erase the character this rundown place has made for itself, and it shouldn’t. All bars have a slight characteristic only known to them and its customers. This particular one gave a sense of calmness. I haven’t felt that in years.

    Within moments of my entry, I could see it was well past due for closure. But the owner is a local favorite, so nobody often made him close. It was a nice open agreement he had with the locals, especially when they really needed a place to unwind and slow their motor skills after a long day. Often times the Bartender knew exactly what I want, and prep it in time the moment he sees me. It was a skill really. Not seeing someone for long periods of time but remembering their go-to drink is pretty remarkable. Just moments after I take a seat at the empty bar, my drink would- ...*sliiiiiiiiiiiink*. Ha, he also had impeccable timing.

    I knock one back, and wave for another. It felt as though the drinks have gotten stronger, but I would sum that up to me aging. I just hope I don’t end up like Tony over there in the back corner. Still sluggish and drinking whatever life he has away. Jus the thought of it brings shivers down my spine. To grow old and incapable to sustain your own mind and body is a harrowing realization. Wait, this unnerving feeling is something else. A cool breeze brushed pass my neck, and the sense of someone standing right behind me initiated a fight or flight reaction for a micro second. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to move. The presence of a ghostly figure grabbed my attention to my right. This person, sat still and calm two seats away from me. They wore a long oversized black trench coat, with black slacks and black dress shoes to match. The only revealing features were their pale skin. A shaved head hiding under a well fitted black fedora and dark ocular shades, and one open bare hand holding a near finished cocktail glass.

    “Hello.” He happily says.  

    “Have we met before?” I responded with clear caution.  

    “Hmm, in some ways. You may not know me all that well, but I know you.” I keep my eyes on him as I take a sip of my drink. He only looks with glee and raises his glass in some sort of friendly truce.  

    “Well, if that’s the case, could you remind me of your name? I got bad memory.”

    “The Stranger.”

    “Okay buddy, if you want to mess around, I’m more than comfortable to cut my night short just to get away from your obnoxious ass.”

    “No no no, I mean no disrespect. That’s just what I go by. I have no name. I’m just someone who happens to cross your path is all. Hm, is that a Manhattan? A pretty good cocktail for the loner type if I do say so myself.”  

    “What? How’d you know-” then it hit me. This guy isn’t some average Joe. He’s with those people. Introducing yourself not with a name but as a title, appearing at the bar even after I’ve already noticed it was empty, and a cool breeze that made me uneasy moments after. Yeah, I don’t know this guy and danger comes in many different ways, so I need to tread carefully.

    “You figure it out yet detective?” He asks with a piercing smile.

    I couldn’t help but give a sideways glare. “What do you want?”

    “Want?” He chuckles to himself, then drinks the remainder of his cocktail. “I don’t want anything. I’m just very curious to see how your story plays out. You’re an interesting fellow you know.”  

    “I wish I could return that compliment, but I know nothing about you.”  

    “Yes, as you shouldn’t. I’m not really here to be anyone’s friend or enemy. I watch and observe, and will only get involved when deemed necessary.”

    “That only makes me all the more suspicious of you. You don’t give off a very welcoming vibe. You appeared out of nowhere and... somehow your drink it refilled?” I didn’t even see the bartender give him more alcohol, and his glass is nearly full again. “What type of powers do you have? Shapeshifting? Teleportation? Time reversal?”  

    “Uncertainty.”

    “I don’t believe that to be a power.”  

    “Believing is reality Donovan. Once you understand your role in this bigger game, you’ll find the answer you’re looking for.”  

    “More vague statements with no concrete evidence to back it up? You must be a riot at parties.”  

    “Not really, no one talks to me. No one knows I’m even there. But you know what? You were certainly the hot topic at Mr. Writer’s party. How could you sacrifice that poor young man to save a life not worth saving?”

    My eyes couldn’t help but widen. “Wait...you were there? How did you even know what happened in that room? I didn’t even see you anywhere in that house.”

    “I’m everywhere Donovan. I saw you and Sebastian in that artist’s loft solving the mystery of his vandalized pieces of work. Haha, I even witness Sebastian fight for what little life he had left in his final moments. A sight to see it was.”

    I throat clenched and my eyes welled as the thought of this apathetic freak did nothing and help Sebastian enraged me. I turn and close my eyes to calm my nerves. The next words I could barely hear were “I’ll be around...” before that sinister cool breeze touched the back of my neck again. I look back, only to be met with an empty chair. This unnerving feeling of someone always being around and watching me isn’t something I wanted to know, but life has other plans for me. I waved to the bartender for a question.

    “Hey, Roscoe. The guy just now...sitting near me, how often does he come in here? Once...twice a week? ”

    “Huh? What guy. You’re the only person at the bar. You’ve been sitting there quiet, staring at your drink for about thirty minutes.”

    “...oh, right.”  

 
 

The Stranger...what a fitting name.