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8 min read

The Bar

Author since 2013 14Stories 13 Followers
The Bar

Chapter 1: Lost in the Storm

The night was cold, and the rain fell relentlessly, pelting the cobblestone streets of the small town. Shadows played in the corners of the empty alleys, dancing to the symphony of the storm. As the clock struck midnight, a sense of unease enveloped the town, amplified by the thick fog that crept through the narrow passages.

John stumbled through the dark, drenched streets. The rain obscured his vision, and the cold wind seeped into his bones. He couldn’t remember how he got there, and a growing sense of dread gnawed at him. The town seemed foreign, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching him from the shadows.

As the thunder roared overhead, he caught a glimpse of a dimly lit bar sign. His coat was soaked, and he shivered as he tried to piece together his last memory. His hands were shaking, and a chill ran down his spine. Grasping for any semblance of familiarity, he pushed open the heavy wooden door, desperate for shelter from the storm.

The room was dimly lit, and the air smelled of stale beer and cigarettes. He noticed a group of patrons scattered throughout the room, each looking as lost and bewildered as he felt. No one spoke, and the silence was only broken by the crackling fire in the hearth. John glanced at the bartender, a tall man with a sinister grin, and decided against engaging him in conversation. Something about the man’s demeanour didn’t sit right with him.

Looking around, John tried to find something familiar, anything that would help him understand why he was there. As he scanned the room, he noticed that the other patrons seemed to be in the same state of confusion. Some stared blankly at their drinks, while others gazed at their trembling hands in utter disbelief. The eerie atmosphere was suffocating, and a feeling of despair began to settle in.

Feeling the overwhelming need to escape, John stood up and made his way towards the door, leaving the unsettling scene behind. The rain still poured heavily outside, but the urge to leave the bar was stronger than his need for shelter. He stepped back into the storm, praying he would find answers somewhere in the darkness.

The rain and wind battered him as he walked aimlessly through the streets, guided only by the occasional flash of lightning. As he wandered further into the desolate town, the storm’s fury only intensified. John struggled to keep moving, his energy draining with each step.

In a sudden flash of lightning, he saw a half-open door a few blocks away. Warm, inviting light spilt out from within, offering the promise of respite from the relentless storm. Driven by desperation, John picked up his pace and approached the door, hoping that this new location would offer him some clarity.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside, greeted by the familiar smell of damp wood and alcohol. The bar was packed with people, all drenched from the storm. As he took a seat at the counter, the bartender looked at him with a friendly smile and offered him a towel to dry himself off.

John looked around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He thought for a moment, trying to piece together his fragmented memories. Then, with a sense of unease creeping into his heart, he realized that he didn’t remember how he ended up in this bar…

Chapter 2: Pour Another Round, and Another…

The warmth of the bar provided a false sense of comfort, and John tried to collect his thoughts. Despite the striking resemblance to the previous bar, the atmosphere here seemed more inviting. The patrons were chatting with one another, but their conversations were laced with apprehension and uncertainty.

The bartender handed John a drink, his eyes filled with an unnerving mix of curiosity and unease. John hesitated, sensing that something was amiss. As he clutched the cold glass, he couldn’t help but notice the distant look in the eyes of the other patrons.

Summoning the courage to confront the bartender, John searched for answers. “Excuse me,” he said hesitantly. “I don’t remember how I ended up here. Can you help me?”

The bartender’s smile disappeared momentarily, replaced by a melancholic expression. “You’re not the only one, friend,” he replied in a sombre tone. “People have been wandering into this place all night.”

A chill ran down John’s spine as the bartender’s words sank in. The sensation of being trapped in an endless nightmare threatened to overwhelm him. He glanced around the room, watching the other patrons trying to maintain their composure, their eyes betraying their fear.

Desperate to escape the cycle, John demanded answers. “How can I get out of here? There must be a way to break this loop.”

The bartender sighed heavily; his gaze focused on the polished counter. “I wish I knew, friend. I’ve been stuck in this place for as long as I can remember. There seems to be no escape from this torment.”

Determined to find a way out, John turned to the other patrons, hoping their combined efforts could provide a solution. As they shared their fragmented memories and pieced together their stories, it became clear that there was no pattern, no link that bound them together.

The night wore on, and the bar’s atmosphere grew increasingly oppressive. Each patron began to question their sanity as the nightmare showed no signs of abating. With each passing hour, their hope began to fade, replaced by an unrelenting sense of despair.

As the clock struck midnight once again, the storm outside seemed to intensify, and the fog thickened, obscuring the town beyond recognition. The patrons realized that their efforts were futile, and the sense of hopelessness became almost unbearable. John’s thoughts raced, his mind consumed with fear and dread. The bar had become a prison, the town an eternal purgatory from which there was no escape.

The night wore on, and the storm continued to rage outside. Unlike his fellow patrons, John refused to give up, so he immediately grabbed his coat and rushed outside. After what felt like hours, he found himself back at the beginning. Drenched from the rain, he walked into the bar, seeking shelter from the storm. He glanced around, unable to shake the feeling that he’d been here before.

As he sat down, the bartender greeted him with a smile, handing him a drink. And as he stared at the glass, he realized with horror that he didn’t remember how he ended up in this bar…

Chapter 3: Drowning Sorrows

After a couple of hours, John once again started remembering fragments of his previous visits to the bar. He couldn’t accept his fate, a prisoner trapped in a nightmare that never seemed to end. Over the course of countless repetitions, he sought a way out of the perpetual loop, each attempt more desperate than the last. He tried to fight the darkness that engulfed the town, as if waging war against the storm would somehow grant him his freedom.

He searched for hidden doors and secret passages, believing that the key to his salvation was hidden within the bar itself. He attempted to rally the other patrons to his cause, organizing collective efforts to break free from the cycle. However, despite their best intentions, they always found themselves back at square one, with no memory of their previous attempts.

Each cycle chipped away at John’s spirit, gnawing at his sanity. Eventually, his determination began to wane. As hopelessness crept in, the once-vibrant spark of defiance began to flicker and fade.

The day came when John simply couldn’t continue the struggle. He accepted his place at the table in the bar, now a shell of the man he once was. As his weary eyes stared into the depths of his drink, searching for answers that he knew would never come, a bitter sense of resignation settled in.

Around him, the other patrons were lost in their private purgatories, their eyes reflecting the same hopelessness that now consumed John. They had all succumbed to their fate, existing in a world of darkness and despair.

As the rain continued to pour outside and the thunder roared, John finally acknowledged the truth. There was no escape, no resolution, only an endless cycle of misery.


Epilogue: Another Forlorn Guest

Amid the storm’s relentless downpour, the door to the bar creaked open once more, and a woman stepped inside, her clothes drenched from the rain. John’s vacant gaze met her eyes as she hesitated, seeking refuge from the deluge outside. He lifted his drink to his lips, and as he took a slow sip, a tear rolled down his cheek. He understood all too well the fate that awaited her in this forsaken place, and his heart ached with sympathy for the newest prisoner of the bar.

As she grabbed her drink and took a seat two tables away from him, John remained at his table, a silent witness to the torment of countless souls, doomed to forever seek shelter from the storm in the cold embrace of the bar.

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"...fear is a luxury..."

- Niklas Niklas Alparós-Lilah from Purgatory Diaries

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BlackBEAST
16 days ago

Wow. I like it. Yummy, sophisticated pasta, love the Edgar Allan Poe vibe man. But the ultra descriptive style can get a bit drab, just say what’s happening and let the readers’ imagination creep them out, that’s my tips for you. Keep scaring us, we hate sleeping 😀