Chimera Eyes

1887

As I strolled through the swinging doors, all I could think about was the warm whiskey, and cool refreshing conversation that awaited me inside. Maybe a dancing girl or two, some guys playing poker. Oh yeah, this should be great. So, you can imagine that what I was greeted with was a bit of a shock to the system.

The squeaky hinges creaked back and forth behind me, quicker and quicker and quicker until they stop all together. That sound was the only sound in the room. Other than my breathing.

Behind the bar are various empty and broken bottles and glasses. The upholstery on the bar stools is worn and tattered. The stage, once teeming with life and music is now cold and dark. Errant tumble-weeds of weeks gone by have found there way into this and that corner. A thin layer of dust coats all this.

That's when I heard it. Had I not been holding my breath form the shock of all this, I wouldn't have caught it at all. A cough. Faint and weak from behind the bar. I rushed over to see who or what it was.

Here I was possessed with the sorriest sight yet. Stumpy, the bartender was curled up on the floor. Sick as all hell and breathing what I knew would be his last gasping breaths.

"Stumpy, old friend, what happened here? Where did everybody go?"

He answered me with the sickening grating noise of a death rattle. His clenched hands fell slack at his sides and a wadded up scrap of paper rolled out of one. I reached down, and uncrumpled it. On it was two simple words:

Da
Guys

I sat on a dusty old stool to think for a moment. It would appear that everybody has found a new watering hole. I suppose nobody likes to divide their time too many ways. Well, so long old girl. It was fun while it lasted. Everything changes. So why not this too.
Though, there's not much sadder than a ghost town.