She refocused her eyes onto the new girl and the fight she knew was only a few minutes away. She quickly picked out two names to give that particular couple in her story. Paul and Linda fit their profiles perfectly.
Summer noticed the new girls other half think differently on the matter of her flirtatious ways. Halfway through the dance he grabbed his girl and challenged Harry to a fight. His friends stood behind him, as if to threaten Harry.
Harry's friends gathered around too, knives were drawn and the fight ensued.
Summer knew the frenzy would escalate fast so she made herself more comfortable in the corner, out of the way of flying glasses and furniture. She had a perfect view of the brawl.
Dead poker players grabbed Summer’s attention for a brief second. Money flowed as bets were made on who would win the fight and who would die.
Both gangs went for each-other’s throats. Friends and foes were beaten and stabbed. The band stopped playing, furniture was demolished, and bottles were broken for use as weapons. By the end of the fight the bar was trashed beyond belief. People either lay unconscious on the floor or had taken refuge in the corners or behind fallen tables to tend to their wounds.
Thrashed, Harry lost his battle with the knives edge that the boyfriend still held in Harry’s throat fiercely. Harry fell to the floor. All of the members of both gangs were injured, including the girls boyfriend.
But Summer didn’t care about the living, her eyes were glued on Harry. She watched as Harry's spirit abruptly departed from his body. Blood flowing from multiple stab wounds stained his ratted shirt and torn jeans. A hole gaped in his throat where the knife had been. He winked at her before slowly disappearing. All Summer could think was, another one bites the dust. She heard sirens in the distance. Too bad, the night had been fun. She held her purse tight around her shoulder and drifted out the front door.
The Devil in Disguise
The elegantly dressed gentleman stood at the front door of the Honky-Tonk bar. He could hear the men drinking, dancing and have fun with the ladies. The band was playing foot stomping, swinging music. A big grin enveloped his face as he traipsed through the entrance and stepped onto the dance floor. His gaze traveled over all of the pretty faces, he had a grand pick of the ladies tonight. His grin grew impossibly wider. He was sure he could entice a few of them into coming home with him.
“Ah, my beautiful darlings,” he coveted. He wandered up to a raven haired beauty. One look into her eyes and she was all his. He did this with all of the fine creatures, while whisking them around and around in a dance to the awesome beat of the music. He never left one female in the place without his attention. The ladies were having a fabulous time, each vying for his touch.
One by one the other male patron’s became aware of their females dancing in an entrancing rhythm and stopped drinking. They became green with jealousy of their women swooning over this finely clad gentleman.
“We need to do something about him.” James grunted pointing with his thumb at the mystery man, “He's holding my woman too close. Yours too Pete. I saw him so close to her a few minutes ago he was nearly rubbing himself against her.”
Pete picked up his beer and took a big gulp before slamming his glass down. “I noticed.” He was a big guy who hated the thought of fighting anyone, which made him angry. He was hard pressed to do anything about this situation, besides his woman was always faithful. Except tonight his woman appeared to be overly enamored with the gentleman she was dancing with. He gazed around at the other men grumbling around him. All of them were getting more upset by the minute.
“We need to do something Pete, and you're the biggest one of us.”
Pete puffed out his chest to try and show some enthusiasm. The last time and only time he fought he almost killed the guy because of his size. Not because he was trying to. He glanced at the guy dancing with his woman again, she almost seemed hypnotized.
“Okay,” he ground out.
Pete and James gathered all of the angry men into a crowd and they headed toward the newcomer. Dave, the shortest man in the bunch was leading the mob. Dave was also the maddest of the bunch. He couldn't keep his woman from straying and he wasn't ready to see it happen again tonight.
Dave stopped abruptly and threw his arms out. The other men halted behind him. He turned to make sure he had everyone’s attention then pointed.
“What the hell?” Pete whispered. He blinked his eyes hard. His face drained of all color.
James looked down to where Dave was aiming his finger and watched cloven hooves strut to the beat on the dance floor. He shrieked like a ten year old.
The scream vibrated through the gentleman’s bones. He stopped swinging the women around and stood frozen for a moment before glancing down at his exquisitely dressed body. He noticed his feet. He had been in such a hurry to get to the bar tonight he'd forgotten to cover them. Realizing he'd been found out he left the woman he'd been holding and ran for the window. Putting his hands on the sill he jumped out into the night, leaving burn marks as a reminder the devil had been there having the time of his life.
Te Amo
“What a nice day.” Victoria, the owner of Te Amo bar and grill breathed out. She opened all of the doors and windows letting the breeze flow through the rooms. The succulent scent of food escaped the building. Customers could smell her delicious delights a mile down the road. Victoria knew the grill would be packed before noon.
She smiled, appreciating again how busy she was. The line of customers out the front door waiting to be seated kept the grin glued to her face. With just a few minor spells she had Te Amo making more than its fair amount of money every day. The patrons were happy with good food, good drink, and good conversation. Sunshine blazed through the windows. Today was special; this was her 5th year anniversary for when Te Amo's doors first opened. She couldn't be happier.
*****
Victoria was seating the last of her afternoon customers when the doors and shutters in her restaurant started to rattle. She glanced over to the bottles of liqueur behind the bar wondering if they were having a small earthquake. It was known to happen every once in a while. The bottles stood still on the shelves. The doors and shutters stopped moving. Her sigh of relief was short lived. Every open door and window slammed shut at the same time, enveloping the room in darkness.
She quickly ran to the lights and flipped the switches. Nothing happened. She looked over at the bar. The neon signs were turning themselves off one by one. She ran to the kitchen, only to be met with total blackness before she was halfway through the dining-room. She stumbled in what she hoped was the direction of the candles, knocking a few things off the tables as she passed.
“It's alright folks. I'll have the candles lit in no time.” Her voice rose over the commotion.
She found the candles and a flashlight and proceeded to illuminate the customer’s tables, glancing at their faces as she did so. Most of the men and women had turned white, they were scared. A few of the women had fainted in their seats and some seemed angry that their meal was interrupted.
Able to see again, she stalked over to the shutters and doors and yanked them open. She didn’t like having angry and overwrought customers. She gazed out at the still blue sky right before glowering at the church down the hill.
So this was the way they were going to push her out. She was sure they sent the darkness, knowing she would need their help to get rid of it.
She attempted to shrug them off, but an awful feeling overtook her instead. She felt a knot of dread form in her stomach, everything slammed shut again. Chills crawled up her spine to the nape of her neck. Her hands shook when she tried to re-open the shutters, they were locked up tight.
Scared out of her mind she pulled on the shutters harder. They wouldn't budge. They were trapped. The air grew thinner. The place became oppressive. The candles flickered. The restaurant darkened even more inside.
She searched her mind for a protection spell. If she could remember just one she might be able to chant it under her breath until she could figure out what to do. But her mind was blank and her magic books were at home. She didn’t have the knowledge to fight something this dark, she only dabbled a tiny bit in witchcraft and never once considered herself a full-fledged witch. The gift skipped her mother, but Victoria ended up with it. Her grandmother had tried to teach her the craft, but eventually gave up because Victoria hadn’t been interested in learning. Now she yearned for the knowledge so she could fight the church.
Not knowing exactly what to do she pulled aside some of her employees for a quiet discussion. Time ticked by while the customers waited in the spooky shadows of the building until she was finally able to open the front door again. Some of the customers fled the restaurant. Some stayed for support, others stayed out of morbid curiosity. Victoria was tempted to run home and get her books, but she knew there wasn’t anything in them that would help her solve this problem. And she knew it would take her a while to study and prepare any spell she found. She didn’t have that kind of time and she couldn’t bring herself to kick out her regulars and close down the restaurant either. They had supported her for years.
With her fingers crossed she quickly sent some employees to the church down the hill. She didn't want anything else bad to happen.
The church had known exactly what she was when she purchased the building and had tried to talk and threaten her away. She explained to them over and over again that she was a good person and no harm would come to them or anyone from her presence, but they wouldn't listen. And that was the problem now. She didn't dabble in any kind of black magic and her gut was screaming at her that this was black magic. She had no idea how to take care of this situation. She still couldn’t believe any deity would lower themselves to this level to abolish witchcraft. Unfortunately, she would have to call on the church to get rid of the evil they conjured up. Then she would have to get ahold of her grandmother and learn bigger and better spells to fight them with in the future. She refused to sell her restaurant and give in to them.
A catholic priest showed up a short time later with a shit eating grin on his face and a bag clutched tightly to his chest. The priest walked around the outside then the inside of the building and announced the building was possessed. He needed to perform an exorcism right away. With giddy, shaky hands he opened his black bag and unwrapped a small bottle of holy water and salts from the cloths they were tucked in. He started his prayers; barely a whisper at first, then his voice grew stronger and louder. All the while he shook the holy water into the still air and spread the salt along the walls and borders of the building. The boards creaked and crackled. The floors sighed. His prayers became even louder, almost shouts. The building rocked and shuddered. The patrons, too frightened to even twitch a muscle, watched and waited until he finished.
A dark cloud shimmered and swirled into the room through the floorboards and walls, scattering dust motes through the air. It uprooted the tables and chairs before turning into a small tornado and whipping around the room, destroying everything in its path. She watched all of her liqueur bottles lift up into the air, spin, and fly into the walls. The bar split in half, the tables and chairs shattered into splinters.
When the dark soul was done wreaking havoc it stopped in the center of the room, pulsed and breathed into itself before exploding into a fog and escaping through the edges of the door-frame. The shutters and door slammed open. She watched the black fog slither down the road towards the church. She glanced back at the priest. Some type of spiritual entity twitched and floated around him.
The priest smiled and nodded. He packed up his bottle of holy water and salt. The entity followed him out the door.
Shadow Man
Killian sauntered up the long narrow staircase to the control tower, his flashlight leading the way. The control tower was the only place that still had electricity in this building and he was ready to have light around him again. He sighed, the gaunt through the old prison always seemed like it took longer than it actually did.
Killian had heard the rumors about this place being haunted, but was hard pressed to believe them. He puffed out his chest. He was over 6 feet tall, built like a linebacker, and didn’t consider himself a superstitious man. But this old run down penitentiary he was now working graveyard shift in gave him the creeps. He was a proud man and didn’t scare easily, that’s why he took the job, but ever since the riots a few years ago the prison had an unwelcome feeling to it. He chuckled to himself. Like anyone really felt welcome when they walked in anyway, but the building itself seemed to scream “Stay Out” now. He would stay out if he could, but even though this part of the prison was closed off he still needed to use the control room to open the gates for the new prison. The control tower at the new prison was under construction and soon would be up and running. He couldn't wait.
Killian stopped in mid though, the sound of two sets of footsteps bounced off the walls, creating a strange echo that raised the hair on his arms. Only one of those footsteps belonged to him. He stood motionless on the stairs and listened intently. Smoothly he pivoted on his toe to check out the darkness behind him. One hand snaked to his gun, the other aimed the light down the steps. The flashlight bobbed up and down, both of his hands shook in apprehension. There was no-one there, at least not that he could see. He quickened his pace. He was almost to the top of the staircase when the smell of deep fried fat wafted through the air and reached his nostrils. The stink reminded him of the burnt dead bodies the correction officers found at the bottom of the stairwell.
Even though the linoleum had been bleached out multiple times the dark imprint from where the burnt bodies laid for hours still reappeared every once in a while. Something about that mark made him step over it every shift, even when he couldn’t see it. He tried to convince himself he was showing some respect for the dead, but he knew in his heart he didn’t want to chance any bad energy sticking to him from the spot. He shuttered, remembering back to that time.
He hadn’t been in the facility when the 36 hour long pandemonium started, he only saw the aftermath, and it was horrifying.
The prison had been built like a dormitory and cell block 3 was only meant to house so many inmates. Unfortunately crime rose and the dormitory became crowded to a point where not only the inmates took up all of the cots, but they were sleeping on the floors as well. It became a problem.
To top it off the murderers and serial killers ended up getting moved from Cell block 5 into Cell block 3 because of construction. Cell block 3 normally held the druggies, burglars, sex offenders, and so on… Add the worst of violent offenders to the mix, and well, the guards expected the utter chaos the prisoners caused, but they didn’t see the nightmare that was to come.
Killian’s mind wandered into the past. He visualized taking the head count in that area to make sure all of the inmates were where they should be. The inmates were in a constant state of agitation. The music was overbearing, everyone competed to play their music the loudest. Most of the prisoners were yelling over each other’s heads or trying to start fights. The guards couldn't keep track of all of the men and were becoming concerned about going into the dormitory. All of the guards, including him, feared for their safety and that fear led to the start of the riots.
By 1:00 am, the morning the riot started, most of the inmates were drunk on homemade hooch, causing fights and becoming obnoxious. The guards still had to do the head count and decided that they would be safer if they didn't lock the bared doors behind them, just in case they needed a quick escape. Two guards went into the dormitory and two guards stood as lookouts right outside the door. Unfortunately the men were overly unruly that night. They tackled the corrections officers that stepped foot in the big room, knocked them out, then took out the other two standing as lookouts. The lookouts became prisoners of the inmates, which caused the riots to escalate. Some of the inmates dragged the lookouts to the
control center for the other cell block keys, while others wreaked havoc in the prison. The medical room was destroyed and most of the pharmaceuticals were consumed. The control center glass was bashed in by the now drugged out inmates and the room was taken over. The inmates now had the upper hand. The riots were out of control. Neither the police nor state officials could step foot in the penitentiary.
A few prisoners raced to the front gates with two of the correctional officers in tow, threatening to kill them if they weren’t let out. Those two correctional officers died that day because the police and state officials refused to negotiate with the prisoners. The theory behind the decision was that it was better to lose a few good men then let convicted felons out of prison. Killian understood the no negotiation act, but still mourned the loss of the correctional officers.
Killian rounded the corner and jogged down the long hallway.
“It's all about respect.” A whisper echoed off the walls after him.
Respect, sure, he thought as a chill crawled up his spine.
The prison was based on segregation and brutality. He wouldn't call that respect. Any normal person who knew better wouldn't piss off the guys in cell block 3. They were thieving, lying dope fiends. Killian recalled the snitch jacket. It was how any interested inmate could find out information. If one inmate asked another for information on any other inmate or inmates and that inmate had answers but didn't spill them he'd end up wearing and imaginary snitch jacket. In other words a rumor would get started that said person was a snitch and that said person would get ridiculed, beat up, and most likely end up dead. It was a sick way of getting the inside scoop on any person in the cell block, but it worked.