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In the small town of Willow Creek, there lived a man named Jack. Jack was known for his charm and wit, but he was also known for his insatiable thirst for alcohol. What started as a casual drink after work had spiraled into a full-blown obsession. Jack’s life revolved around the bottle, and his days were a blur of drunken stupor and regret. One evening, after a particularly heavy drinking session, Jack stumbled into a bar he had never seen before. The sign above the door read “The Last Call,” and a strange, eerie light emanated from within. Drawn by curiosity and the promise of another drink, Jack pushed open the door and stepped inside. The bar was dimly lit, with shadows dancing on the walls. The patrons were an odd mix of silent figures, their faces obscured by the darkness. Behind the bar stood a tall, gaunt man with piercing eyes and a sinister smile. Bartender: “Welcome, Jack. We’ve been expecting you.” Jack: “How do you know my name?” Bartender: “We know many things here. What can I get you?” Jack shrugged off his unease and ordered his usual. The bartender poured a drink from a bottle with no label, the liquid inside shimmering with an unnatural glow. Jack took a sip, and a wave of euphoria washed over him. It was the best drink he had ever tasted. Jack: “This is amazing. What is it?” Bartender: “A special blend, just for you. But be warned, it comes with a price.” Jack laughed, dismissing the bartender’s warning. He spent the night drinking and reveling in the strange atmosphere of the bar. As the hours passed, the other patrons began to disappear, leaving Jack alone with the bartender. Bartender: “It’s time for you to go, Jack. But remember, the price must be paid.” Jack: “What price? I don’t understand.” The bartender’s smile widened, revealing sharp, pointed teeth. Bartender: “You’ll see soon enough.” Jack left the bar, his mind hazy and his steps unsteady. As he walked home, he felt a growing sense of dread. The streets seemed darker, the shadows deeper. He stumbled into his apartment and collapsed onto his bed, falling into a restless sleep. That night, Jack was plagued by nightmares. He saw himself trapped in a labyrinth of mirrors, each reflection showing a different version of his life. In some, he was happy and sober, surrounded by loved ones. In others, he was alone and destitute, consumed by his addiction. The mirrors began to shatter, and Jack felt himself being pulled into the darkness. He woke with a start, drenched in sweat. The room was cold, and the air felt heavy. Jack tried to shake off the lingering fear, but something was wrong. He looked around and realized he was no longer in his apartment. He was back in “The Last Call,” but this time, the bar was empty and silent. Bartender: “Welcome back, Jack. It’s time to pay the price.” Jack: “What do you want from me?” Bartender: “Your soul, Jack. You traded it for one last drink.” Jack’s heart pounded as he tried to escape, but the door was locked. The bartender’s eyes glowed with a malevolent light, and the shadows in the bar began to move, closing in on him. Bartender: “You belong to us now.” Jack’s screams echoed through the empty bar as the shadows enveloped him, pulling him into the darkness. The next morning, the townspeople found Jack’s apartment empty, with no sign of him anywhere. “The Last Call” had vanished, leaving behind only a lingering sense of unease.

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The Reading

The Mirror's whisper

The Last Call

The Digital Descent

The Collector

The Perfect Family

Bingo Night

The Price of Greed

Driven to Madness

The Feast

The Ritual

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Horrors of Obsessions

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Horrors of Obsessions

A09_10_83

Angelique Martin

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Angelique Martin

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