The Mourning Times

Dream Bars

I can clearly recount the first time that I stepped into the Rêver Bar. That musky stench stays on your clothes and skin long after you’ve left, heavy with a toxic mixture of cheap alcohol and foreign spices despite the bar’s Western-themed architecture. The atmosphere was dense, the music pulsing through your body and mixing with the torrent of words that washed around you. When you stepped, the floorboards groaned quietly at the new weight that was added to it.The bar looked like it could seat about seventy-five people comfortably on its stained birch chairs. Many of them were occupied by tall men in large throngs, slurring at each other in a language I could not even begin to put my finger on. It was almost lyrical, but harsh. They were odd enough; I’d heard about this bar in passing comments here and there but I could not expect this. Imagine a man with thick black tights rolled onto their face. Eye sockets with no eyes, a gaping mouth and dark one-toned skin that had no stray marks or imperfections. As I observed them gambling about drunkenly, the old bartender spotted me through the throng. He had deep set raven eyes and bushy grey eyebrows which were furrowed with concern, adding to the many wrinkles that marked his face. Sliding past the customers he approached me, gripping my extended hand in both of his sweaty ones, leaning in and screaming his name into my ear, which I could still not hear. I remembered Neil Enderson from the email of correspondence. This man was obviously my client. He led me past the other customers, sidestepping expertly, to an antique mahogany bar table. There, a sullen bair maid  was dragging a ragged dishtowel over the surface across from three customers.

They were all strange characters, stranger than the others, and suspicious for certain. I kept my eye on them even as I sat down on the fake leathered stool. I never really like the way they squeaked underneath of your every movement, but it would do. I was aching from the late night case yesterday and reveled in the rest. Hopefully this would be done soon. I rolled my shoulders and leaned onto the countertop with a heavy sigh. The barmaid, a young lass that seemed just about in her twenties, flatly asked me what I wanted. She was still beautiful with her full glistening blond hair and wide aquamarine eyes, but the work here seemed to have weathered her down. I ordered a shot of whiskey which she handed me promptly and forcefully. Thanking her politely, I nursed in it my hands. Of course, I was on the job but you could say my job could use some buzz. After taking a grateful sip, I returned my focus onto the people seated nearby. The neighbor to catch my eye the most was the one who looked the most of place: a girl, looking about  twelve at the most. Her legs dangled beneath where she perched, ending with her small, shoeless feet. She pulled a strand of black hair from her face to better reach forward and take a gulp from the glass in front of her which she held with both hands. The glass seemed to engulf her face. I scribbled into my notebook furiously. Once I was done investigating, I would have to report this.

Seated beside her was a young bespectacled man, about twenty-five or so.  He had turned around lazily to look at me when I entered, the bartender at my side, and gave a brief nod of recognition. His mouth seemed eternally frozen in a displeased scowl on his cold grey face. His glasses glinted in the dull light of the tavern. There was a glass of wine before it, which I assumed was his. I didn’t know they would sell such exquisite alcohols here. It was a dump of a place, and I could tell why this place would at one point in time need someone like me to come by.

Another girl, looking about the age of the other was the only one to give me a proper greeting--or at least the closest thing to one. She’d stood when I arrived and given me a pleasant smile, but offered no words. I had tipped my hat  to her as the bartender pulled up a stool for me at the opposite end of the bar. Of course, this had been so that I would have both the barmaid and the bartender standing within earshot and the three customers  to my right. The girl had copper hair and golden eyes that shimmered. She and the one piece dress she wore were both pale, her coral lips and cheeks giving them some life and color. She and the other young one girl seemed to be friends, as the other girl would whisper into the other’s ears and both would giggle.