A Crappy Bar
A man who drinks at the same shoddy bar, a crappy little bar filled with different spots. Red spots, yellow spots, green spots, and worst of all, black spots. Black spots always made the bar feel darker, colder, and filled with an intense void of emotions. He occasionally talks to the yellow and green spots, but red can be tricky. Red is similar to black, but the aura of red is far more dangerous. When going to this bar on a typical Friday night, the spots vary, but tonight, he noticed there were more red and black than anything else. This made him isolate in a corner seat near the jukebox, the jukebox covered in dust, cracks in plastic, and the record needle getting stuck on certain tracks. The man never touched the jukebox but, instead, would grab his usual vodka cranberry. The tart, mixed with the intensity of the alcohol, gave him some sort of calm. He would gently twirl the glass, watching the liquid swirl in its same repetitive pattern. He preferred a seat in the corner because he was away from the spots and could stare out into the emptiness of what was outside. The dead leaves are spreading about the parking lot, and the wind is gently caressing the glass window, and how green and yellow spots would sing drunkenly to their cars, shouting positive things to one another.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
A dreaded black spot is kicking the jukebox in hopes of fixing it. The man by the window rolls his eyes, knowing that this obnoxious gesture is pointless and will not fix the problem. All the while, the black spot is losing its drink, and it splashes on the already splattered colored floor. The screeching of the black spot is ear-piercing and sounds like nails on a chalkboard. As much as this bothers the man, he continues to sip his drink slowly. Another spot begins…, but the sound is different. Similar in tune, but quieter. The red spot intervenes on the black spot. They are cocky in a way, as if they are looking for a fight. The black spots screeching gets louder and louder, unbearable even. But the man continues to sip his tangy drink.
BOOM. BAM. POW. BANG.
The spots begin to merge and splatter color onto the floor. The color is blended with their already dark spots. There are hues of burgundy and brown. Some of the splatter hits the man’s table. He ignored this and looked into his glass, hoping they would move. The screeching intensifies, and the splatter becomes a part of the floor. A permanent mark. They go on, and on, and on, and on, and on…more sounds to follow.
POW. POW. BOOM. BANG. POP.
Pop?
The man is shocked by the pop sound. His hearing shifts, and the horrid sound becomes that of a mere whisper. An echo that won’t leave his brain.
The black spot soon entralled with what was before him. The red spot was nothing more than a splotch. It was as if a paint can was spilled and began to flood the floors, every creak and crack. One red spot rushes over, but again…
POP. POP. POP.
The green soon finds itself painted onto the barstools. The barkeeper, a woman on shift, shivers and is unsure of what can be done. The intimidation of the black spot grew bigger and bolder. The sounds it emits become overbearing, even for the man by the window, who, the black spot, too blinded by violence, doesn’t notice. The man, surprisingly, just gazes at the sight. He would be lying if he weren’t a little shaken, but he tries to maintain composure.
POP. POP. POP.
The sounds echo into the already busted-up roof. Bits of wood chips and dust particles spread about the bar. A red spot is slamming its way towards the black spot; its appearance is jagged, as if it emerged from a kid’s coloring book. They begin to blend slightly as more pops explode about the bar. The woman is now screeching and running toward the back of the bar.
POP. BANG. POW. BOOM.
BOOM. POP. POP. POP.
The once scribbled spot is now all over the place. The tables, stools, floor, and for some, their glasses of alcohol. The man continues to just watch, almost in awe how he is not affected by this. He ponders his mental well-being, or if it is just the drink that is causing the fade in between.
ZZZZZZRT. ZZZZZZ. WRRRRRRRR. SLAM. WHAM.
Yellow spots screeching, screaming, and cautious. They don’t burst into the bar right away, but they warn the black spot to cease. The cops, of course. The man, slightly startled by the yelling, drops his drink to the ground.
SPLASH. CRASH.
With this, the black spot notices the man finally. Like a ghost, he whirls over to the man, the bar grew dark and filled with this upsetting aura of dread. The man quickly gives in to the black spot, who swiftly drags the man into the dark. Nothingness. Emptiness. Sorrow. Fear. Hopelessness.
All of these emotions filled the void. The man grew overwhelmed with all of this at once, forgetting the situation he was brought into.
BOOM. POP.
Another spot splashed into view, which made the voice even darker.
POP. POP. POP.
More colors are emerging, bouncing, and flowing in the void. The voices of each color splattered grew more and more silent.
POP.
A cry this time. A cry of pain, suffering, and soon silence. Anger began to flow, and so did regret.
POP. POP. BANG. BANG. POP.
The void grows with every pop. That damn popping sound was becoming drilled into the man’s brain. He wanted it to end. He needed it to end. When would it end? The darkness was too much to consume and became a descent into madness. The void grew to be overbearing and miserable. Something the man had felt for a long time, but never faced it to this extent. He wanted it to end. When will it-
POP.
Silence.
POP.
Quiet.
POP.
Colors were being seen again.
BANG.
With this final blow, the void that was intruding on the man, and soon, a path of light emerged. Not just yellow spots, but colors of all kinds. Hues of purple, orange, and blue. It was beautiful and nothing like the void of black. That fear left, and the hopelessness disappeared. The colors were calming in a way to the man. Voices of concern and worry soon filled the air. The sounds were not fuzzy or distorted, but instead clear. Unfortunately, the man simply needed moments to himself. To reflect and be at peace that the sounds were clear.
The spots soon transformed into beings, people whom the man had not seen in some time. He allowed the people to guide him away and ensure his safety. He soon found himself at ease despite the voices asking how? Are you okay? Why?
A gentle relief filled the man. The colors were now melting, and the only calming colors reflected off people.
The sounds of what felt like never-ending dread would soon be a forgotten memory.
