Hello no one,
It's been a while, lady no-one.
So this is a more recent piece, I think it was composed last summer >_>
I hope to really get back into this in the summer; I'm done my semester at this point so technically my summer is now. I'll have to get ambitious.
I know for now this stuff has a juvenile air to it, but give it time, we're all growing.
I hope whoever's lurking out there likes this; or at least reads it.
Evan's thoughts swirled around the edges of his brain, following the motion of the whisky in his shooter. The alcohol buzzed down his throat and sent its echo throughout the rest of his body. He blinked as the dim lights that illuminated his corner of the bar buzzed and blurred. He lifted his glass slightly and brought it back down to the scarred counter top, the noise beckoning another filling. Evan liked the people here, they didn't cut him off. They didn't care.
Almost as soon as the thought finished drifting across what little consciousness was left, a rattling motion shook the far end of the bar. His gaze panned from right to left.
Evan lifted the glass to his mouth. 'This is who I am.' The phrase came and played through his mind as if it was a ghostly broken record, returning every night so that it wouldn't be forgotten. The phrase propped Evan up, gave him identity. Purpose. That's why he came here every night.
The far end of the room rattled and shouts rose up. Evan felt hot breath drift towards his neck as the bar-girl approached him, again.
"Look at them going at it over there, same thing every night..." She said in a whisper that slithered through her lips. "Why can't they just take it outside..."
Evan turned to watch her speak. The enamel of her teeth glowed in the dim light, contrasting deeply with her darker complexion. She turned to face him. He pulled his face back.
She brought her body closer, bringing her elbows together as she leaned over the countertop.
Evan's vision focused on the cascade of vodka that fell into his shooter and then blurred again as he leaned back and shook out his hair. The words coming out of the bar girl's mouth seemed to slur and tangle in his fingers.
He left the shot and nosily got up from his seat, ignoring the ongoing susurrations of the bar girl. This scene unfolded similarly every night, and every night Evan just couldn't be interested. Not since that night.
Chairs screeched and screamed as he slid them out of his path. The other customers filling the bar with smoke and natter remained completely unfazed by Evan on his jagged route out.
He reached what had to have been the door as the bartender offered a goodnight. He mumbled something of a response as he stumbled outside into darkness.
The chill of the September night immediately slipped down his throat and woke up his bones; he shook his head again as he waited for the blur to fade.
Emerging from the blur she appeared. The ghost he had created. She was his hindrance. No matter where he was, no matter how much he drank, she would always find him. She followed him into the bar, and she sat silently beside him as the other girls offered favours. She would follow him outside as he lit his smoke, and she would follow him home.
How he wanted to hold her, to take her in his arms and never let her go like he had done before. He wanted feel her again, run his hands through her delicate hair and prove to himself that she was still there, comforting him. But all he felt of her now was the cold disappointed stare of her invisible eyes.
Evan wanted to claw out the sting in his eyes, claw it out and then rip the memories and mistakes out of his brain.
But instead he was left there helpless, a victim to the painful infection of regrets. The air around him stirred and flew past him, painting tears across his face.
- Vox Sententia
