The girl of 1970(Short story)

The bewitching girl

Sitting inside the old comfy bar, the heavy rain outside seemed rather soothing to the ear, with a constant rhythm on a continuous loop. However the same could not be said for the few scattered people outside, scampering around to to find shelter.

'Fly me to the moon' by Frank Sinatra is playing on low trying to keep the spirit up amongst the dampening atmosphere. But no one seems to be paying much attention to the song playing. All their attention is focused on the drink in front of them as their expression is as plain as a newly weaved paper not betraying any of the thoughts inside their minds.

Looking around I see middle aged men absentmindedly staring into space as if they have had a traumatized experience. What do I know? Maybe they had.

What am I here for? Getting fired from my 3rd job isn't a reasonable excuse to drown myself in cheap, smelly beer. Is it? Well it sure sounds right.

Taking a swig at the cold, half finished beer bottle in front of me felt surprisingly refreshing.

''One more bottle here.''

Breaking the quiet trance, a low deep voice broke through in a near pleading tone. The voice although deep and low, had a soft ring to it. His pronunciation seemed flawless with a pure 'English' accent. The voice sounded like it belonged to a man of much experience, much wisdom.

Turning around I caught sight of the man but he didn't match the sketched picture in my head. Sitting beside the only window in the corner of the room, sits the man with grey wispy hair pointing in all direction. He has on a emerald green sweater bigger than his own size an a tatty pair of jeans that should have discarded years ago.

Confusion hit me and I begin to wonder what event or series of events had caused a man like him to be seated amongst these drunkard. Sheer curiosity is what is leading me towards the man as his head is turned towards the window, peering through the rain pattering against the window pane.

I cough in an attempt to be acknowledged as he didn't notice me taking a seat opposite him. He turns his head and looks at me. Suddenly I don't have anything to say, as I silently blink at him.

''Hello?'' I guess I had been staring at him blatantly
''Hi. Just noticed you've been down here long.'' I add lamely. I realize how I might be seen, seeing that I can't even construct a decent sentence explaining the reason I'm here. Why am I here?  Stupid curiosity, that's why!

''Yes. I happen to have a lot of time nowadays and this place and I have memories.'' He smiles as little wrinkles form in each corners of his mouth. And suddenly his eyes has a strange twinkle in them as if he's not here at all. He's somewhere far from this broke down pub, in another time altogether.

''Memories?'' I repeat, wanting to know more, wanting to know him.

''Memories to last forever.'' He adds looking into space.

Unable to control my enthusiasm and curiosity I ask unashamedly, ''would you tell me about it?'' His expression changes for it was his turn to be confused.

''You really want to know the tales of an old man?'' He enquires in puzzlement. I nod eagerly pushing the  empty beer bottle aside from the middle of the table.

''Well, there was a girl. A beautiful, bewitching girl...''

I had written this out of boredom when I had to wait for my mum but I think I would like to carry on with this plot. I would love to know what you guys think and if I should carry on. If you guys seem to like this than please comment and vote and share.

Love ya all😘