Excerpt Creepy 2


Fear began to work its way into my thinking long before I came inside to this empty tavern. My hand was shaking badly, causing some of the liquid courage I poured to spill over the side of the shot glass. But in a weird way, I found it funny that this was the place I felt most safe.

“Where are the people?” I asked myself, then poured another round.

As I looked throughout the dimly lit room, I saw that the furnishings were old and untidy. A few chairs were upended, as if the last guests here had used them in a fight. Dust gathered everywhere, except mysteriously on the liquor display behind the bar where I stood. Rays of sunlight forced their way through the cracks in the boarded up windows illuminating the rows of various shaped and colored bottles. Most were empty and looked as though they had been wiped clean within the hour. Yet, I knew there was no one that could have dusted them. I had spent the last two hours scouring throughout the six buildings that made up this small community and did not find a soul.

I could not remember how I got here. And now I wondered, why am I here? More importantly, how do I get out of here?

I moved back to the front door and opened it. Shielding my eyes from the setting sun as it temporarily blinded me, I looked for any sign of life. I didn’t know the exact time of day as my watch had stopped. But I could tell it was the time of day I often referred to as the hour of the long shadows. It was that last hour of the day when sunlight hit objects and cast their elongated silhouettes across the ground. I normally enjoyed this time of day. To me, it signaled that my work was done… it was time to relax. But at this moment, the opposite was true – I was scared to death to see the sun go down. But I had no idea why.

I yelled, “Is there anybody out there?” at the top of my lungs into the openness. But only silence was returned.

I closed the door and retreated to the bar. I again grabbed that pristine, half-empty bottle of bourbon I found when I first entered, and poured another drink. It’s as if it had been put there just for me. I prayed for it to give me some clarity, or, at least the nerve to face whatever may await me with the coming darkness.

After gulping the contents of my tumbler, I picked up the clear glass bottle in both hands and steadied my gaze on the label. It was old. Pieces of the yellowed label had been worn off. But I could clearly see the name of the drink was Devil’s Brew. Underneath that was, Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey.

(Enjoy the rest of this story and other bizarre stories in Halfway to Creepy 2)