Have One on the House

I walked into the pub, and the darkness was palpable. The kind of darkness seemed to swallow everything, even the light. I paused momentarily, my eyes adjusting to the dim light before going to the bar. The bartender, a tall man with piercing green eyes and a glint of light, glanced up from polishing a glass as I approached.
"Welcome, stranger," he said with a faint smile. "What can I get for you?"
"I'll have an ale," I replied, sliding onto a barstool. "Thank you."
As he poured my drink, I took in the surroundings. Shadows shrouded the pub; the only light source came from a few flickering candles scattered around the room.
The walls were rough, but there was something else about them, a hidden quality. Squinting, I thought I could make out crude pictures, like tribal paintings almost, but more profound, more sinister. There wasn't a spot on any of the walls filled with scratches, cracks, or discolored blotches.
Light from the candles struggled to push back the darkness but, more often than not, only succeeded in creating more shadows. The tables and chairs were splintered from years of battering by rough hands and drunken foolery.
The sound of men talking and laughing accompanied the sound of glasses clinking together and scraping the wood from their place on the back of the wooden counter.
The bartender set the ale down before me and leaned in close, his eyes glinting. "What's your name, traveler?"
I hesitated momentarily but then decided there was no harm in telling him. "Des. I'm just passing through."
The bartender's smile widened, and he leaned back against the bar. "Well, Des, this one's on the house."
I took a sip of my ale and looked around the room. Despite the darkness, something about the pub seemed to draw people in. I noticed a few shadowy figures huddled in the corners as I glanced around.
The eyes seemed to follow me, dark green pools of intense scrutiny. The light in their eyes appeared to be a fire, flickering with intensity and sending shadows dancing in the room. It might have seemed they were the only ones in the pub if not for the rest of the patrons.
"You're not from around here, are you?" the bartender asked, breaking me out of my thoughts.
"No," I replied, shaking my head. "Just passing through, as I said."
The bartender chuckled. "Well, Des, let me warn you. This pub is not like any other you've been to. You see, it's a favorite spot for the Fae."
"The Fae?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, the Fae," the bartender confirmed, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. "They love coming here, even though the sign outside forbids it. They're not ones to obey human rules."
I felt like I was sinking into black ice as if I were being suffocated by tree bark. I felt a craving for forest floors, for moss, for water. I had entered a strange, dark place populated by things that were not of my universe. A chill ran down my spine at the mention of the Fae. I had heard stories about them, tales of their trickery and danger.
"Well, I'll be careful then," I said, trying to sound nonchalant.
The bartender gave me a knowing smile. "Oh, I'm sure you will, Des. I'm sure you will."
The bartender's words about the Fae lingered in my mind as I sipped my ale. I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as I looked around the pub. The shadowy figures in the corners seemed to watch me even more closely now.
"So, tell me more about these Fae," I told the bartender, trying to sound casual.
The bartender leaned closer to me, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "The Fae are not to be trifled with, Des. They're creatures of magic, and they don't play by human rules. They can be kind and generous one moment and cruel and deadly the next."
I shuddered at the thought of dealing with such unpredictable creatures. "Why do they come here?" I asked.
The bartender shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe they like the atmosphere, or maybe they're looking for unsuspecting humans to toy with."
I gulped down the rest of my ale, suddenly feeling the urge to leave. "Well, I think I've had enough for tonight," I said, pushing my stool back.
The bartender grabbed my arm, his grip surprisingly strong. "Oh, come on, Des. You can't leave yet, and we haven't even had a chance to properly welcome you."
I tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened. "I really need to be going," I insisted.
The bartender's smile turned cold, and his eyes glinted with a menacing light. "I don't think you understand, Des. When you enter the pub, you become our guest. And we take care of our guests here."
I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach as I realized the gravity of the situation. I had walked right into a trap, and now I was at the mercy of the Fae.
Just then, a group of Fae patrons entered the pub, and the bartender released his grip on me. "Ah, perfect timing," he said, his tone suddenly jovial. "Des, I'd like you to meet some of our regulars."
The Fae approached me, their eyes glinting with an otherworldly light. They seemed to be sizing me up as if deciding whether or not to make me their plaything.
"Welcome to our pub," one said, his voice musical and hypnotic. "We hope you'll enjoy your stay."
I tried to back away, but they closed on me, their magic preventing me from leaving. I was trapped, with no escape in sight.
"You see, Des," the bartender said, his voice on a sinister edge. "We take care of our guests. And once you're here, you're ours to do with as we please."
I felt a sense of panic rising as the Fae closed on me, their eyes glinting with malice. I knew I had to escape, but their magic kept me in.
"What do you want from me?" I asked, my voice trembling with fear.
The Fae just smiled at me, their expressions inscrutable. "We just want to have a little fun," one of them said, his voice dripping with honeyed tones.
I swallowed hard, my mind racing to escape this predicament. Then, I remembered something I had read about the Fae. "I heard that the Fae have a particular weakness," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "They can't resist a good riddle."
The Fae looked at each other, their expressions suddenly curious. "Oh really?" one of them said, his tone mocking. "Well then, by all means, try us."
I took a deep breath, trying to think of a good riddle. Then, it came to me. "What belongs to you but is used by others more than you?" I asked.
The Fae looked at each other, their expressions puzzled. They seemed to be pondering the answer, and I felt a glimmer of hope that I could escape.
Suddenly, the Fae patrons started to argue amongst themselves, each trying to come up with an answer to the riddle. I seized the opportunity to slip away, darting towards the door.
But as I reached for the doorknob, I felt a sharp pain in my hand. Looking down, I saw that one of the Fae had grabbed me. "Not so fast, Des," he said his grip like a vice.
I tried to pull away, but his grip was too firm. Then, I remembered something else I had read about the Fae: they were notoriously vulnerable to cold iron.
I reached into my pocket, pulling out the dagger I had picked up on my travels. Holding it out, I shouted, "Back off, or I'll use this!"
The Fae recoiled at the sight of the iron, their expressions suddenly fearful. Sensing my chance, I yanked my hand free and bolted for the door.
As I burst out into the cool night air, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. I had escaped the clutches of the Fae, but I knew I could never let my guard down again. The land was full of dangerous creatures, and I had to stay vigilant to survive.

***

Thank you for reading my story. If you can, give it a like as this helps me earn a few cents for coffee. Join my newsletter at www.matthewangeloauthor.com