I listen. That’s my job. Occasionally, I might be asked to tell the stories instead. I always reply with a smile and shrug, assuring those that ask that I have nothing of interest to tell. Every so often, telling one of my own does get people to open up to me. Don’t get me wrong, I might have other duties. The average person thinks of my job to mix drinks and serve. I mean, technically that’s what I do. Name your poison and I promise I will come up with something unique that will capture your tongue and make your brain cells will light up. Despite that, it’s not what gives me an edge over others sharing my occupation. That’s because I understand what my job actually is, that’s to listen. Even the most introverted seem willing to be willing to strike up a conversation and a story to a smiling, knowing face. Interesting, fascinating, cringe inducing, strange, fantastical, bizarre, and sometimes boring tales are all that I’ve heard. Fine, to be honest, most are boring. Even the most daring of confessions tend to leave much to be desired. It’s a simple life, but after so many lifetimes, a simple life is all you can ask for.
How about this one then? It was a slow night. I had one of my regulars who turned to a friend. I am not necessarily a fan of cops. They hunt the poor while ignoring the rich who contribute to the economic pressures that lead to the violence they see as the fault of inner city kids with no choice. Even worse, then don’t know how to handle… special calls. If I didn’t see a spark of humanity left in him, I wouldn’t even be bothered. If I truly believed in my philosophies and lessons learnt through life, then perhaps even he could be reformed. Fortunately, I know how to be quite tactful. We were in a debate. In his words he was dealing with “hood rats” I shook my head. I understood his cultural upbringings only let him see the fault of the kids and maybe parents. Not at the fact that the billionaires who run things have enough to provide those poor children with enough to never have to worry about gangs, violence, or theft. That’s a diatribe for another time though. That evening, our debate continued during a slow night. At least, like me, he sees a greater good in humanity. It’s too bad his way of trying to expand on that good just leads to larger problems.
Time goes by quick at times. Time speeds up when you are busy or with good company. On such a slow night, it was the good company keeping up the pace of the clock. When your mind has left reality, a quiet place can leave you with a thousand voices, some of your own. Others… you hope that it’s merely your psychosis. A quiet bar is a solemn one. A bittersweet place for a job if there ever was one. If I’m mentally stable, well as stable as I can be, I can take a momentary respite in that deserted atmosphere. The nice thing is the managers leave me alone. They know better. It’s not the corporations bar, it’s not managements’ bar, it’s my bar. They know this and don’t hesitate to keep it that way. Once in a blue moon a homeless man or regular drunk comes in. It always shocks them how those types don’t bother me. How well I take it. After so many occupations, it’s surprising the types you can deal with. Now a middle or upper middle-class person, they are the dangerous ones. I should know. The kind who will never taste what true wealth is and why I had to reject it. Then there are those who are truly wealthy, those are the demons I detest the most. And yet, I still listen. It’s my job after all.
It was drawing to closing and my friend Brian was getting ready to leave. I tend not to give cops any special treatment. A friend though? I don’t mind doing a little extra for them. Like I said, management knows it’s my bar. I see the manager getting ready to lock the doors. They were a moment too late. A man comes running in. Pleading to just get a drink. I can slightly overhear the conversation. The man is either inebriated or…. No. No he’s not. I know the sound in his voice. Brian goes to intervene. I ask him politely not to. I go up to the door. It’s a minute before close. I ask if the man is simply looking for a drink. He nods. I turn to the manager and ask if he is simply getting a drink, is that going to upend the kitchen closing. The manager looks at me puzzled. They know I like to have my bar perfect and leave just as quick as I arrive. Yet, my job is to listen. Listening means paying attention. This is a man with a story. I know when it’s time to do my job. I smile and simply reassure a single drink won’t hurt while I finish my duties. It will also give Brian and I some extra time together. When you have a family and work, it’s hard to maintain any other relationships. I see Brian’s police training kick in. Apparently, it’s something that occurs naturally. Yet, he doesn’t have the same instinct I do.
“Scotch. Rocks.”
“Double?”
“Can you do a triple?”
“Normally… no. It’s not really something I do, not in a place like this. But you have a story, don’t you? I like to listen. I’ll make you a triple, but in exchange, indulge me.”
“You’ll just laugh.”
“Single scotch it is.”
“Fine.” The man says uncomfortably. “Anything that happens after is your fault.”
“I’m used to taking blame.”
I see Brian start to react to a seeming threat to his friend. I give a calming smile and nod. Brian relaxes himself the best he can.
“Brian, you got nowhere to be. I know you don’t really drink. Let me make you something. Our new compatriot has a story to tell I think might fascinate both of us.”
“Just don’t do to me like you did last time, your closing and I don’t want to keep you waiting.” Brian replied trying to hide his high alert nature.
“There are campers in another section. Going to be here for a minute. Don’t worry, I’ll make you something light you can shake off in like less than an hour.”
I don’t normally drink, but a strange sense of fellowship compelled me. Back in the day, no one could outdrink me. I was a young fool with a death wish. I might have outgrown it, but my alcohol tolerance is still there. At the behest of the trembling man, I poor myself a vodka on the rocks. Normally I prefer a simple vodka cranberry. This was different though. I kept it looking like nothing more than a little bit of water left over in my cup. Management won’t bother me.
“So, you promised a story.”
“Son…”
“Call me what you will, but son? I’m vastly older than you know.”
“I’m well in my fifties there’s no way…”
I laugh at the man’s words. “I’ll repeat myself once more, I’m vastly older than you know.”
“How old.”
“Old enough to stop keeping track of my revolutions around the sun.”
“With that kind of insight, perhaps I may have misjudged.”
“Probably not, judging me is the norm anyway” I got a small chuckle out of my crowd of three including myself.
Brian was still sitting uncomfortably. He could feel something was wrong. I felt it too. The difference was, he was mistaken by where the threat was coming from.
“You ever head the story of old Ripshaw?” The man whispered. The air grew… stale and cold. There was a sudden silence, an unnatural one especially for a restaurant trying to close. I took a look around, no one seemed to pay attention though.
Brian started laughing breaking that silence. “That old story? We still bust kids trying to trespass and scare themselves.”
“It’s no story.”
As I saw Brian start to laugh and make a joke, I gave him a look. A look he had never seen from me. Brian stopped whatever he was about to say to return a glance. “You don’t believe that…”
“I’ve told you Brian. I have lived many lives. I’ve seen many things. Now. Old Ripshaw. Legend of an old factory worker that lost their life from unsafe working conditions, right?”
“How did you know that?” Brian asked knowing I wasn’t from the area.
“I listen. I study. Legends are something of a specialty of mine.”
“There’s more to that story.” The man said.
“I’m a cop, if there’s a…” I cut Brian off.
“Brian, cops don’t respond to calls of this nature. Please let our new friend finish.” I replied in a cheery tone.
“My son said he was going out with some friends. After he didn’t return that night, I tried calling the cops. I got the old it’s a teen they might have run away, keep an eye out, and whatever other lines you people use when you don’t want to be bothered.”
“Most cops are busy, and I’ll even admit not all are good but…” Again, I cut off Brian.
“Cops are more concerned with crimes committed against corporations. Brian don’t say anything. We can debate this later. Go on.”
“I find out that him and his friends went to check out the old rumors. I decided to go to the factory myself. When I got there… there was nothing.”
Brian tried to respond with a “Because…” I stopped him with a glare that threw him off. People aren’t used to THAT intensity in my eyes.
“Brian, your off duty, and I’m working right now. Remember, my job is to listen. I don’t think this would be a job for cops anyway. Please, don’t interrupt again. You’re my friend, but your used to intervening with humans.”
“Intervening with humans, what the hell are you talking about?” Brian responded.
“If you relax, everything will become clear. Now, I need to do my job and listen to the rest of this man’s story.” Brian looked a bit upset and there was something that made him deeply uncomfortable, but he eventually relented. “There was more than just nothing, wasn’t there?”
“Yes.” Silence. My job is to listen. I only talk when I need to. I see Brian go to open his mouth and I give a gentle head shake. He sighs and shrugs and sits. After a few moments go by, the lights begin to flicker.
“It’s coming.” The man finally said.
“Then I suggest you tell me the rest of the story.”
“Why would you believe me?”
“Even if I don’t, I’m a bartender. I always enjoy a good story.”
The man sips from his glass. “I start looking around the factory. Like I said, I saw nothing out of the ordinary. I begin to breakdown thinking of my son. I felt a tear in my eye at the thought of my loss. As I looked up, I saw fresh paint on a nearby wall.”
“Fresh paint in an abandoned factory. Odd.” I reply trying to hide my overwhelming interest taking over my empathy.
“Probably just some graffiti…” Brian starts up again. Another glare does the trick.
“That’s exactly what I thought. I got up, the paint was fresh enough to peel off slightly. That’s when I saw markings on the wall.” The man stopped again to sip his drink. He paused for a few moments as the lights flickered yet again and a loud howl could be heard outside.
‘What was that?” Brian said nervously. “There’s no…”
“I think if we hear the rest, and our questions will be answered.”
“I removed some of what I thought was paint and saw some weird symbols. I continued to scrape off the paint. At first with my nails, then I grabbed a piece of metal and continued. Once I was done, it was this bizarre symbol with weird letters around it.”
“I might be new to the force, but occult stuff? That was all make believe stuff of the 90’s satanic panic.” Brian said jokingly. I could tell that Brian thought we were talking to a drunkard at this point. It’s easy for a cop to believe someone might be a drunk, but we bartenders, our jobs are on the line, so we are far more cautious about calling such a thing out. This man was certainly not intoxicated. Not yet anyway.
“Well, it was definitely something. I rub my hands against the markings and didn’t realize I had cut my hand…” I stopped him and grabbed his hand. The cut was fresh. I stopped, stood, and looked into his eyes. Those were the eyes of a man who had seen something that no ordinary person would, or even should ever see. I don’t know how I missed it. The fear and longing, the trauma, it started to add up. “As I began to leave to call the cops, the lights flickered at the factory. I got scared. There was no power there. Supposedly there hadn’t been in some time. That’s when I turned around and saw… it.”
Brian started to laugh. I slammed my hand down hard on the bar counter and ordered him to stop. He reacted to my out of character reaction. I motioned for him to look into the man’s eyes. The moment Brian did, he flinched slightly. He saw exactly what I had seen.
“I hate to say it, but I ran. I ran faster than I had ever done. I knew what it was. The ghost of Ripshaw…”
“That’s impossible.” I said attempting a sympathetic reaction.
“I saw it! It’s after me now! A GHOST. THE GHOST THAT TOOK MY SON!”
“I’m sorry, like I said, that’s impossible.”
“DON’T YOU SEE THE LIGHTS FLICKERING HERE? THE GHOST OF OLD RIPSHAW IS AFTER ME! NOW THAT I’VE TOLD YOU HE’LL COME FOR US ALL!”
“Ghosts don’t exist. Not how people believe them too anyway. And even if it is something, you telling us isn’t what would attract it here.” I said non nonchalantly.
“What do you mean?” Brian asked in shock at the confidence in my answer.
“Our consciousness is quantum, fourth dimensional so to speak. Time doesn’t exist how we think it does. In a sense, reincarnation exists. Ghosts are impossible. Instead, they are shadows are of those from other universes. Some universes existed before outs, others after. There are infinite universes after all. And if there is something… it’s stalking it’s prey.”
“What does any of this have to do with Ripshaw?” Brian asked
“I’m getting to…” The lights flickered harder. I saw the rest of the people in the restaurant in confusion with the manager on saying they would have to call an electrician.
“It’s coming.” The man said with equal fear and an awareness of his fate.
“This must be some kind of joke. A coincidence.” Brian said shaking.
“It could be. But I try not to ignore coincidences. Not like this. One must be cautious, we humans are good at creating patterns, even ones that don’t exist.” The ground started to shake. I could hear some slightly panic in the kitchen as we are not on a fault line. I see the realization wash over Brian’s face as he reaches for his gun. “Put that down. It’s not going to work.”
“HOW DO YOU KNOW?”
“I’ve told you; I’ve lived many lifetimes. Whatever this thing is, a gun is not going to work. Catch.”
“SALT? WHAT’S SALT GOING TO DO?” Brian yells as the man sits anxiously awaiting his fate.
“It might be the right ionized chemical to keep us safe. Temporarily anyway. Brian, your job is to get everyone in the kitchen and pour salt across the entrance. Both of you go in with them.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“Listen.”
“WHAT DO YOU EVEN…” Glass is smashed as Brian stares in hopeless confusion and pulls his gun.
“Listen to me. The only help you can be is to try to protect the people here. Do as I say, use your gun only as a last resort. Just make sure to save enough for each of you in case I fail.”
“But…”
We all stare as the shattered glass of the front windows and doors begins to crush and a figure slowly appears. It was a terrible thing. It was elongated, it’s face featureless minus the rows of sharp teeth with flesh dripping down. Despite being in the light, it appeared like a shadow minus that mouth and the two slits where it’s eyes should be glowing red. The host panics at the sight of the creature. I quickly grab a bottle of vodka, a rag, and a lighter and throw it. The distraction is just enough for the host to run away. As I watch everyone panic, I start forcing people to follow my orders as I stand behind my bar. I tell Brian to use his position to get people to listen. As I see the people move into the hopeful safety of the kitchen, I continue to clean a glass acting as if nothing is wrong as the creature moves forward, both of us not paying attention to the fire I had just started.
“Well, aren’t you a strange one. Aren’t you supposed to be bound by the rift at that old factory?” I waited for a response, knowing I wasn’t about to get one. “You’re not from around here. Another universe, perhaps another dimensional plane. One a bunch of idiots made. Congratulations. From your look, I assume you don’t understand me, but my lack of panic and fear is enticing to you.” It moves closer to me. “Listen, I don’t want to have to kill you. I would rather get to know you. I don’t suppose I could offer you a drink.” I see it shambling closer with its grin widening. “I know, you’re here to feed. Not quite a wild animal, but certainly a hunter.” It opens its mouth grew wider revealing even more rows of teeth. They all started rotating like a blender. Perfect for chewing through flesh and bone. “I like science. Let’s do an experiment.” As the creature lunges at me, I take another bottle of vodka and shatter it across the creature. Merely stunning it. “I see the alcohol has no effect on your chemistry. Are you carbon based as well?” It slashes one of its sharp talons at me. The distinction between limb and claws was not present. I narrowly dodge the attack. I hear commotion in the back which catches the creature’s attention. I sigh as I yell to be quiet as the lights go out. “So, whatever you are, you require energy. The light, or EMFs are enough to sustain you in this universe. Or perhaps your chemical makeup just influences those things. It’s all quite Interesting. Unfortunately, you aren’t going to give me any answers, are you?” It snaps at me nearly catching my face. “You carbon based, silicon, or perhaps something else?”
“I…. will…. Consume… you…” the creature let out in a gurgled voice.
“Well, this is a development. In this brief time, you’ve managed to learn some English and have the physiology to reproduce our language. Fascinating. However, this is your last chance. Leave through whatever rift you come from or perish.”
“I… cannot die…”
“Bullshit.” It lunged over the bar counter at me, I had no choice to fall to the ground to evade it. It managed to grab my hands and started to squeeze them. I could feel my bones slowly being crushed, and there was something about its physiology that burned as well. Fortunately, physical pain is something I’ve learnt to endure. It took a few moments of struggling to buy time to think of what to do. That’s when my ears started to ring from the sound of a gunshot. That idiot. The creature looked up from me, barely scratched by the bullet and started to race to Brian. I threw several knives which made I had hoped would get its attention back towards me. I was wrong and Brian was about to die. I had to at least buy some well need time to come up with a plan and stop anyone from getting killed. I didn’t have much choice, I jumped to tackle the creature. I did manage to force it to the ground. While keeping in the screams of pain in, I merely grunted in an angry tone at Brian to get back to the kitchen and out the emergency exit. Brian saw me grimacing in pain as I growled and my eyes pierced his very being.
As I rolled off the creature, I noticed my clothes nearly melting and my flesh burning. That’s when it hit. “I’M AN IDIOT!” I yelled at myself looking at the creatures’ footprints. It was somehow made from some variety of metabolized acid. I stared down the creature that seemingly laughed at my injuries. I laughed back, no I didn’t laugh, I cackled at it. I pointed and let out a strange combination of laughter mixed with pure rage. “I might not know exactly what you are, but I know what your made of. This is your final warning.”
The thing seeing lack of fear in me, realizing I was the one amused by it… I don’t know if it made it angry, confused, or scared. It did respond though. It reached a claw out at me, I jumped over the bar. I had to make it to the kitchen. I was wrong about the lights. Some of the things that enter our universe need high amounts of electricity to remain stable, or create the rifts that allow them through. Whatever its chemistry was, it forced electrical pulses through various devices. Maybe it was simply a side effect of its neurochemistry. I wasn’t sure, for all I knew it had something to do with the way it’s, skin? Maybe skin, metabolized acid. That’s when I realized that moment was not the time to be asking those questions.
I had to get to dry storage immediately. I’ve never seen a beast such as this, but all I could do was hope that my past experiences and my current evaluations of the thing were correct. I knew it was physically faster then myself, but I had the knowledge of the layout of the place. Before I could put my plan into action, I had to test my hypothesis just in case I was wrong. I threw cans and boxes to slow its descent upon me. Just as I thought, organic materials were disintegrating. Time for the final test, I threw a chicken breast at it. It cleanly dissolved upon touching the monster’s flesh. As I steered us through the kitchen, I grabbed exactly what I needed. As I entered the dry storage, I was cornered.
“You… are… mine…” it gleefully said.
“Nah, I’m already married. Nice sentiment though. However, I still don’t mind giving you a ring.” With that, I threw a circle of baking soda around me. I was either about to die, or finally put down the creature. I heard it laugh, or whatever constituted as a laugh to it, as it went to step through my little circle. I heard it scream. Yep. Definitely acid based.
“Listen, buddy, you think that hurt? I can end you here and now. You return from where you come from…” It took a step back, got on all fours and lunged at me. I sighed as I threw the baking soda on it. It began to roll on the ground screaming in agony as I walked over.
“WHAT… ARE… YOU?”
“Me? I’ve done many things. My job is to listen. And you refused to talk. I don’t take kindly to those that interrupt my work. Was really hoping to leave the days of dealing with things like you behind.” I dropped several boxes of baking soda on the monstrosity as it rolled around in agony. Its flesh dripped, until it was nothing but the teeth and… I don’t know. Bones? I think they were bones. My point is that there was not all that much left.
I collapsed on the floor. A broken wrist, some chemical burns, nothing I haven’t dealt with before. As I enjoyed the few moments of silence, I heard a door open.
“Brian, call this in. There was a robbery. Things went bad. Suspect fled.” I said not even bothering to look.
‘How did you… Anyway, that’s not…” Brian tried to say
“Are they going to believe a trans dimensional creature was hunting an old man with a missing son?”
“Well…”
‘They would still have to report it. I don’t want some of the unknown agencies involved in this. To the government, anything’s a possible weapon. We don’t need things like this on our world in our universe. In the meantime, calm these people down. Let them know whatever they think they saw; it was all a part of a robbery. In the meantime, this guy is going to take me to the old factory.” All Brian could do was nod. “Oh, and before I go… help me clean this up.”
“HOW?”
“It’s literal mush. Grab a mop bucket, we have no time before cops show up and questions start being asked.” With that, Brian and I hurriedly cleaned the goo that remained of the creature. I took the remaining solid pieces and a sample of its… liquified form to examine later. Once done, I quietly left the scene as everyone gathered in shock and awe. I noticed the old man and dragged him from the crowd.
We sat in my car in near silence. I saw the man glance at me once or twice. He went to say something, and I just gave a grim smile. “Don’t worry about me. Broken wrist, chemical burns. I’ve endured more. I am sorry about your son though. For whatever it’s worth, this thing won’t be hurting anyone again.” I could see the man beginning to cry. I said nothing as I put my hand on his shoulder. Normally, seeing a beast like that would drive someone insane, but for a human, loss like his overrides the absolute terror of seeing such a… well… to most… a cosmic horror.
We arrived at the factory. He led me to the symbols. I laughed to myself and looked at the old man and quietly said “Sometimes, just sometimes, those who dabble in the occult get things right. Someone managed to find just the right place where the veil of our reality is weak. As much as I want to study this… there’s too much pain here for that” That’s when we heard more of that ghastly noise. It was being produced by several more of those creatures. “Well, we don’t have much time. We need to get these markings off the wall and burn the place.”
“Won’t the police…”
“Having a friend who’s a cop can be quite useful.”
We got to work, as we saw another limb trying to make its way through the portal, I smashed it back as we wiped down each part of the symbols one by one. A rift like this requires a solid object to truly let something through. Even with the markings gone, the portal started to open. Whoever caused this really knew what they were doing. At least knew enough to cause serious problems. Behind the wall was a world not completely unlike our own. Only filled with those things and fauna far different then what anyone would normally recognize. Worst of all, we caught their attention. Smashing the wall was no longer an option. The crack in our reality grew deeper. I did fortunately stop on the way and have the man get a canister of gas along with some baking soda just in case and we got to work. Before any others could leave, a flame separated their world from ours. They tried none the less as I rigged up a small explosive device. It’s not all that hard to build a… demolition device. Better yet was the explosive canon that would send several pounds of pure base through that portal. We ran from the building as we heard them clawing at each other to get through. Soon, the factory went up in flames, then rubble. We stared at the destruction. I ventured through one last time, keeping low to the ground to avoid any smoke and fire. Falling debris was a slight issue, fortunately my adrenaline was still high so my instinctive reflexes helped out. Once I confirmed that the rift was closed, I got into my car with the man and drove back to my restaurant.
Brian had convinced the rest of the cops that I was merely trying to calm a poor old man who seemingly lost his son. I answered some simple questions, foolish to do with cops. I know, but, Brian was there to make sure they understood I was a victim of a robbery as well. After about an hour, I was given the go ahead to leave. It was time to get some rest.
When I woke up the next day, I got a call from work. It would be a week or so before we opened back up. Fine by me, I had sick time that I needed to use for my hand anyway. Brian had done his job. Botched robbery. The old factory was where the robbers had been hiding out. They decided to destroy it since their last attempt failed so miserably. The ashen remains of one of the creatures that nearly got through was enough to convince the cops the robbers had been burnt in their failure to destroy the evidence and their hideout. A week had gone by, and I was back at work.
I looked over at where Brian normally sits. He came in once and we had a short conversation. What had transpired had deeply affected him. Can’t say I blame him. Everyone has a story. Everyone has some kind of trauma or past event they would like to forget. Doesn’t change the fact that having an experience like that scars you. When your perception of reality and the realization of what actual exists out there hits you, it drives most people mad, or at minimum creates a paranoia. Everyone else involved managed to convince themselves it was nothing more then a mere robbery gone wrong. I was neither seen as a hero or victim. I just got a talking to about not taking such things in my own hands. I did my best not to laugh, let alone grin. I played the part of victim just as well as the real victims. As for that old man, word has it he’s been institutionalized. Ranting about monsters taking his son will do that to you. Being in those mental health facilities? I would rather be monster chow myself. While I doubt he will, I do hope he can recover to some extent. Yea, I know it’s hard to believe. Though… I see the look in your eyes. You don’t disbelieve me, do you? You can relate somehow. I saw how your face changed, the look in your eyes. There’s something there, you just didn’t know where to turn. That’s ok. I know I can talk too much at times. But trust me when I say there isn’t anything you can tell me I haven’t heard. I might tell some of my own stories, that’s to help get people like you to open up so you can tell me yours. I might even be able to help. It’s like I said I’ve lived many lifetimes, had many experiences. What did I say to you when you first sat down? After all, my job, that’s to listen.