"The bar was still, silent, a rare occurrence but far from an unwelcome one. Usually the place was filled to the brim with rowdy gang members, leather-clad men and women, gray-streaked and fresh-faced, spread from counter to door. They'd be celebrating a victory or squabbling over a stolen beer or licking their wounds after a messy dispute.
But not that night."
Beatrice is in a familiar place with an unfamiliar atmosphere. What strangeness has overcome this refuge of hers?
• • •
Initially published on November 18, 2025, at Short Fiction Break, this story was a contestant in The Write Practice's 2025 Fall Writing Contest. All rights belong to Allie April Knox.
Allie April Knox is a native to the farmland of Central New York, as well as a ballet dancer, music teacher, and avid crocheter. She can usually be found listening to movie soundtracks amidst writing about the unnatural aspects of our seemingly normal reality.
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