Stray Sheep

Out For a Drink

~Prologue~

"I don't understand how you can believe that kind of bullshit," Vincent sighed, tiredly sipping his Cuba Libre. 

"Well, how else are you going to explain those deaths?" Erica smiled back and stood up straight from her lean. "You've seen the proof! More and more guys are ending up on the news, and a lot more are starting to get tired. It's not just you anymore, Vincent."

"Like we said, pure coincidence," Orlando voiced, yawning in the process.

Frustration started to cloud over the waitress. The guys were like this lately, but she found it impossible something this bizarre could be considered normal. "This is not a coincidence. There is no way all these people are dying and nothing's got to do with it."

"Erica's right," Toby spoke, taking her side as usual. "I dunno about you guys, but it's not every day you see thirty guys just die. Serial killers don't pull that kind of crazy."

She followed: "Even if the curse isn't real, you got admit something weird's going on."

Jonny scoffed. "You're just imagining things. Everything's fine, Erica, and this'll all blow over in a few days. Even if the rumor is real, it's not like we can do jack shit about it.

A man spoke from the back corner of the room, interrupting her argument by averting the girl's gaze to a raised hand, motioning toward the seated customer asking for service. Erica groaned, becoming  exhausted just to see signs of drinkers starting to swarm into the bar.

"Be back, guys," she waved behind her, leaving Tobias to stare at her behind with a smile.

Orlando called after her. "Hey Erica, another beer, alright?" She yelled back an annoyed "yeah," and kept walking. 

"Miss Erica is a hard worker," an elderly lady said in the booth behind the boys'. They did not hear, nor was the older girl talking to her twin sister sitting on her right. 

"Miss Erica is nostalgic," Martha added in agreement with her, with a smile and still face, identical to her sibling's. 

"The chain stretches," Lindsay says.

Both speak in unison, "It is three days until the time of freedom," though no one is there to listen. Still, they have spoken what was needed to be spoken, and fall silent as they return to their meal.

Jonny put out his used cigarette butt on the nearby ashtray before lighting another. Orlando shifted in his seat, finding another comfortable position to lay back on the corner of the booth. Vincent uneffectively rubbed the frustration out of his face after taking another sip of the glass of rum and cola. All unlike Toby, still cheerful, who ranted on about his obsession in between bites of his pizza to his friends that were too fatigued to listen.

Their troubled faces were familiar, for they were also seen on others sitting at the surrounding tables. The bar was once lively with drunken chatter, and now it's just dull with weary persons. Things used to be simplier. 

__________________________________________________

Sorry for making the first chapter so short. But ey, prologues don't have to be long. So yeah, lots of things I left unanswered, and it might seem weird at first but you'll understand in due time. I hope you guys got a feel for my writing style and stuff. G'day, my friends.