The Sunday Threesome!

Of the 25 given words at The Sunday Whirl, Sunday Scribblings 2 and Sunday's Whirligig I have used these 22:-

tawny, lucid, chill, mist, creep, vine, trap, plaster, crack, mad gloss, buzz, hug, pies, pact (packed) push, price, hard, care, broken and despair.

I’ll never forget that day. Handing over the keys to my pub was a mistake. I hadn’t realised what an important part of my life The Vine Inn had become; important as life itself. But the price was good and I foolishly accepted it. Right then, I didn’t care. I packed my bag and moved away, far away.

Yesterday I returned. I wanted to see it, hear that buzz, feel it, breathe it in. I wanted to meet that mad crowd again! Share a pint or two of Tawny Ale, scoff a pie why not. Laugh, chat, hug. Cry even.

What I found chilled me to the bone. A feeling of utter despair crept over me. Cracked  windows; rotten beams where tiles once hung. Overgrowth, garbage, and peeling paint where gloss had been. The grand old door hung crookedly from one rusty hinge. I pushed it, hard. It shifted. I fell inside. There I lay surrounded by fallen plaster, broken chairs, and upturned tables. A shaft of sunlight ventured through a gaping hole in the ceiling. Swirling specks of dust created an eerie mist. I cannot bring myself to tell you more. 

Was it my imagination? Over there? Was it what I thought, or was my normally lucid mind playing cruel tricks on me? No. Trapped beneath a fallen shelf I saw a lifeless body. I crawled, shards of glass gashing my hands and knees.

I can’t describe how it felt to see my ole’ mate John the Joker laying there, a pint glass still gripped in his hand. Empty of course; he was never one to leave a drop. ‘Did you hear the one about...?’ his voice seemed to say. Only it wasn’t his voice.

Why he was there I can but surmise. Perhaps he wanted one last look before The Vine was reduced to a pile of worthless rubble. I heard myself call 'Time gentlemen please'; I heard my bell. I fled. I’ll never go back. Not ever.

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