The Ghost mark two

Steve’s face was white. He appeared to be in a trance as his autopilot sat him on the barstool. “Whisky,” he managed to croak out. He downed the drink as soon as the barman put it down, a trembling hand gesturing for another, as though he didn’t fully trust his voice yet.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” the barman joked. Steve was a regular, but he rarely drank anything stronger than ale, the occasional Glenlivet to see in the New Year was it. He pulled a pint of eighty shilling and placed it before Steve, who downed half of it in a gulp.

“I did.” Steve’s whisper was barely audible in the quiet bar.

The barman stared at him, wondering if his friend was being serious. “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately, Steve. It was probably a trick of the light. Ghosts aren’t real.

Steve remained silent as he finished his ale. Nodding as his friend offered another. “It seemed so real, but it can’t be…” he shook his head slightly. “You’re right, Dan, it’s probably just stress.”

***** **** *****

Colin’s face was darker. His autopilot guided him to a barstool. “Witches brew,” he croaked. Downing the drink in one he gestured with a shaking hand for another.

“You look like you’ve seen a live one,” the barman joked as he poured out the strong drink.

“I think I did,” Colin whispered.

“You know they’re not real. The idea we were once them has long been disproved, they have their dimension we have ours, and never the twain shall meet and all that.”

“I know, maybe I was just tired,” Colin said, though he knew what he had seen had been real…


(word count 287)