Short Gay Stories~

The Hound

It was a picturesque night in London, rainy with light fog. A young man walked down a lonely street lined with restaurants and bars, their warm lights filtering through the fog. The rain had scared any late night strollers indoors, their laughter and chatter slipping through parted windows or doors. Two men stumbled out of the man’s destination, clearly not sober. They talked nonsense to each other before bursting out into boisterous laughter. They continued on their uneven way as our main man made it to the door of The Hound.

Finally out of the rain, the young man took his brown, weathered trench coat to reveal a white dress shirt and a pressed black tie. He silently stepped down the four, creaky stairs and reached the room in which the bar resided. Though the lights were dim, they gave off a pleasant and warm glow. There was maybe another score of people and looking around the small bar, he could see the stage that was raised from the floor. A half hearted jump and any man could make it unto it’s top. Directly across from the stage and in front of the door, was the bar. It had old but well kept wooden panels, and the top was scratched and worn from all of the glasses, bottles, and cups it’d seen.

“I was starting to wonder if you’d come around tonight, Oliver.” The voice was low but friendly and as the man who now had a name turned to greet him, his eyes we met by round man with a thick red beard of curls.
“I was starting to wonder too, Winston.” Oliver sighed. He sat down with on one of the bar stools and tuned to Winston.
The red head spoke before the brunet could,“Something strong?” Oliver gave him a tired smile.
“The fact that you know that makes me a bit worried for myself.” Winston chuckled and turned around to face his wall of alcohol, and reaching for whisky and some selected bottles, and got to work. A couple of minutes later, which Oliver spent spacing out and nodding off, he received his drink.
He gave Winston a mumbled thanks and took a sip. He had barely swallowed when the small crowd in the bar stirred, murmurs and quiet chatter filling the room. Our main man didn’t care much about anyone else’s business but his own, so he took nearly no notice of the events happening behind his back. The sound of a microphone being plugged into the speakers onstage crackled throughout the room.

Oliver sighed, knowing that the pleasant sound of quiet subdued music and sound of clinking glasses would soon be interrupted by a rowdy singer.
“I think you’ll like this one Oliver.” Winston said, while cleaning his bottles of alcohol with a rag. Over the years Oliver had come to notice the small habits of the owner of the Hound-yes, he went often enough. The red head tended to clean already clean things when he didn’t have anything to do, resulting in him going through more rags than were necessary. Oliver sighed once again and took another swig of his drink.
“What makes you think that?” Winston smiled a conspiratorial smile and shrugged, turning his attention back to his pristine bottles.

Oliver turned his attention back to his drink and absentmindedly took a swig, thinking back upon his day. Being a lawyer didn’t come as many benefits as people thought. Working overtime, stressing over cases, and having to meet the expectation that his boss had for him; it was starting to take a toll on him.
Ever since he had begun to feel this way he’d come to find comfort in The Hound and it’s patrons. Alcohol, he knew, wasn’t exactly the best way to deal with your problems. Coworkers, friends, and family, had all tried different strategies to get him to get out
more after work. They constantly attempted to get him interested in women, thinking that romance would magically solve all of Oliver’s troubles. Although Oliver didn’t see the appeal of finding something else to distract him from his work.
While he was drowning in his miserable thoughts, the lights dimmed, and the music started.

You are Far

When I could have been your star

You listened to people