A chorus of bellowing laughter mixed with the stale air of the Gun & Dog pub. Burly men stood crowded together at the front of the room, so they could be closer to the source of the liquor they so gleefully drank. Their bodies were coated in layers of sweat, soot, dirt, and grime. With cracked calloused hands, they gripped tightly on the cold handles of their iron tankards, bringing the foam that leaked from the top to their unshaven faces. Each customer took turns telling stories to each other. Once they were done they would reward themselves with a large swig of ale, or a burst of guffaw.

The owner gazed around the room, watching the men and the occasional woman, all having fun after a hard days of work. With an almost father-like look on his wrinkled face, the owner of the Gun & Dog carried on scanning his establishment. Looking for more familiar sights to soak up.  As his eyes neared the end of their journey, he was irked to see the presence of the stranger - still lurking in the unlit corner of his pub. For fourteen days now, this strange man had been coming to his humble establishment. The owner of the Gun & Dog had lived in the town of Maidstone for fifty-two summers, and was confident he knew the faces of everyone who lived in it as well. Yet, there was not a shred of recognition on the face of this unknown man. His accent sounded common enough, although the only words he had heard the man say was ‘whiskey, cheapest, you’ and ‘got’.

It didn’t help that the outsiders face was shrouded in vines of unwashed hair the colour of straw. As he carried on his mundane thoughts about his new customer, he realised that his eyes had lost their focus on their surroundings at some point in time. The owner suddenly flinched when he saw that the stranger was staring back at him. He recovered quickly when he realised he had been the one to start this unintentional staring contest. For the past minute or so, he been looking at the scruffy chap without even noticing. The owner suddenly found the floor and dirty tankards a lot more interesting, now that his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.

“Hey Ned! Can I another four ales, please chuckaboo?” A middle-aged man several feet in front of the owner asked him.

“Comin’ up, Bill!” The owner replied a little too enthusiastically. Thankful that he now had something to distract him from thoughts about the unkempt outsider. As the owner of the Dog & Gun was in the midst of pouring his third tankard, he finally forgot about the existence of the ruffian lurking in the corner of his home.

*  *  *  *  *

Ethan chugged the small puddle that laid at the bottom of his glass cup. He tried in vain to suppress the grimace he felt forming on his face, as the honey-coloured liquid found its way into his gullet. What shitty whiskey he thought to himself, as hot air was expelled from his nostrils.

He’d been drinking the same whiskey for hours a day, for fourteen days, all at the same pub. Yet, the poor excuse for a drink tasted as bad as his first ever sip of the nectar. Even though his internal thoughts grumbled out the taste of the drink, Ethan’s tongue was still trying desperately to absorb the last few drops that clung to the bottom of glass. The alcohol was cheap and strong, and that was all he really cared about at the end of the day.

With little grace, he fumbled in his coat pocket, until his hand felt the cool touch of brass metal. He took the brass object from the pocket and placed it in front of his eyes. The liquor he had ingested over the hours had given everything the appearance of being looked at through a stained glass window. It took several seconds of deep concentration for Ethan’s brain to figure out what the two slim iron rectangles that slowly ticked across the brass object meant.

“Only a quarter to ten, ey…” Ethan mumbled quietly. He stared at the watch for another several more seconds, before concluding that he still had enough time to drink.

He decided against the idea of walking up to the bar and asking for a drink from the owner of the pub. The old sod had been giving him a dirty look for the past minute, and Ethan couldn’t be bothered to deal with disapproving eyes right now. Unless, if he had to, of course.

Searching the room with his honey-glazed pupils, he quickly found the shabby establishments serving girl, in the midst of placing several tankards on a wooden table. He didn’t see much point in getting up; just so he could get the attention of someone who could give him some whiskey, nor did he feel like getting the girl’s attention by yelling. Deciding that he could handle the dry feeling in his throat for now, Ethan patiently waited for the server to get closer to him - before he got her attention.

After waiting several minutes, Ethan was rewarded for his patience, the serving girl finally came close enough to greatly lessen the amount of effort he had to produce. The girl was about fifteen feet away from him, and her eyes looked in a direction that Ethan was confident; she could see him. He pointed his arm lazily in the air so she could know he required her assistance.

Ethan was slightly annoyed that it took at least thirty seconds for the girl to finally walk in his direction, the girl had been halfheartedly cleaning the table, and he was positive she had seen him instantly.

“What can I get ya?” She asked him.

“The same, luv.” He replied, as he nodded to the empty whiskey bottle in front of him.

She quickly took hold of the empty bottle, and left without a word. With nothing better to do, Ethan watched her leave. 

The girl’s face was neither pretty or ugly, a plain face you can find on the heads of most women. But Ethan had to admit, he was mildly impressed with her behind. The girl's body was slightly plump, a common thing for serving girls that work in unsavoury pubs. Though it seemed that the good Lord was kind enough to design this girls body to store fat below the belt. The shape reminded him of the childish drawings of a human heart, which made him think that maybe the drawing didn’t have such a childish origin.

“Oi! Stop ogling my daughter’s behind! Ya damn outsider!” The owner yelled, breaking Ethan’s trail of thought.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

The room was now silent. All of its inhabitants now boring into his body, some with eyes of amusement, but most with disdain. Ethan sighed internally. It was okay for the owner to glare at him for well over a minute, but if he admires the physique of the man’s daughter for a moment, suddenly he’s the one causing trouble.

“Sorry mate. Just gorming out, t’is all.” Ethan responded casually.

“Oh that’s all well ‘n’ good like, but you think ya can be gettin’ away with it when it's my blasted daughter?!” The owner asked. Each following word growing in venom.

“In my defense… I didn’t know it was your daughter.”

“Get outta my pub! Ya scruffy git!” He roared.

“Oh come on mate.” Ethan started, standing up and placing his hands in surrender. “I’ve seen plenty of the lads in ‘ere giving your little one plenty of funny looks. Even seen a few of the braver ones cop a feel; I have.” Ethan admittedly regretted his words as he watched the faces in the room turn stout and even more hostile. Some even stood up, subtly flexing their muscles, forged from years of hard labour.

“You bastard! How dare you accuse my mates of doing acts like that. I’ve known most of the lot in ‘ere when they were babes! You fucker!”

The poor sod’s been blinded. If he’d take a look at the rose on his girl’s cheeks, and her sad eyes staring at the floor in shame, it might open his eyes. Ethan thought. He almost pointed out the state of the serving girl’s face, but he decided it would be a fruitless endeavour. Coming to the conclusion that his best option was just to simply leave the pub, he began to walk to the exit.

“Where do ya think yer goin’ son?” Asked one of the men, that now stood guarding the way out.

“Out. Doesn’t take a genius to see that I’m not wanted here.” Ethan said as he walked up to the man.

“Well that’s all well ‘n’ good like, but you ain’t leavin’ this place ‘til we all get an apology.” The man stated, folding his arms in the process.

Ethan barely managed to suppress a sigh. His past pride was creeping back to life, and it was whispering to him. ‘Hurt him’ it said, ‘make them apologise’ it pleaded. “Fair enough… Sorry everyone. Especially you miss, and your father of course.”

“Not good enough. I want you to get on yer knees and beg everyone in this ‘ere room.”

Ethan stared at the man blocking his escape intensely. At five foot eleven, Ethan loomed over most people he met, and this man was no exception. Although, this man was certainly thicker than himself, both in muscle and especially fat. He could hear a chorus of snickering coming from behind him. With another suppressed sigh, he decided he would try to talk his way out one more time.

“I can’t do that mate. I may be a sorry looking creature, but I still have some traces of the sin known as pride left in my bones. Sorry, but you’re gonna have to let me pass.” He informed the man in a casual tone.

The two locked eyes, a battle for dominance was waged in their irises.

“Hit ‘im Mick!” Someone from behind Ethan yelled.

“Yeah go on Mick!” “Hit the scruff!” “Knock ‘im out!” “Kill the cheeky fucker!” The audience yelled.

As soon as Ethan saw the man, that he now suspected was called Mick, pull back his arm, he drove his knee into the man’s face. He felt bone crack and warm liquid spurt on his tan breeches. Ethan saw his foe’s body go limp and allowed it to collapse to the floor. Not even bothering to check to see if the man is still alive, or look at the crowd behind him, he finally left the Gun & Dog pub.

Ethan walked across the damp pavements of Maidstone, with little grace. The whiskey his body still clung to him tightly, making him slow, dull and clumsy.

He was fortunate to remember where the inn he was staying at was, other nights he hadn't been so lucky.

It had been about ten minutes since the ordeal at the Gun & God pub, and Ethan was finally beginning to put the matter to rest in his mind.

His late night walk suddenly came to its end, when he suddenly found himself on the floor. He wasn't sure how he ended there. As Ethan attempted to stand up, he felt a force slam into the back of his skull, knocking him back down to the cold rough earth. As Ethan’s lips kissed the concrete beneath him, he felt another sharp burst of pain appear on his back, and another, and another…

It didn’t take long for Ethan to come to the conclusion that be was being attacked. As he felt the white hot flash of crude metal colliding with his skin and bones, he wondered why these men were assaulting him.

“This is for Nick and Ellie, ya bastard” Yelled one of his attackers.

If Ethan was more drunk and wasn’t choking on his own blood, he would have thanked the man for answering his question.

To Ethan, it felt like hours had passed while these men continue the bombardment of strikes on his defenseless self. Kicks, bludgeons, stomps, scratches, scrapes, cuts, laceration, stabs, he named them all to cure his boredom as he was beaten to death. A small and strange part of him was actually annoyed that it was taking so long for the gang of pub dwellers to kill him. You lot wouldn’t last five minutes in a proper fight, He mused. Although, he was begrudged to admit that he wasn’t much better. He hadn’t even heard the lot sneak up on him, and he was down in only one hit. If his old squad saw him, they’d kill him out of sheer embarrassment.

Ethan awoke. He wasn’t sure when he lost consciousness, or for how long, but he knew one one thing for certain, he was doomed. Even the thought attempting to move a single part of his body, caused his brain to shake with pure agony.

Beaten to death for looking at some lasses’ arse… You’d get a lesser penalty for asking the Queen if you place your nose in between her rosy rump cheeks and inhale. With that final thought.'Ethan once again drifted off to the peaceful dreamworld.

In there, he met a man made of shadows and lightning.