The Bar: A Narrative Fiction

There were wagons out, and rows of houses that had mold and rusty old metal and from the looks of it one could tell that the town was in a hurry to leave the little old ghost town.“yup, this town did not want to stand in the middle of the war” Jaylee had added when we all saw their belonging left behind we knew that Citaly was right, what if some of these people didn’t make it alive. Than i got this weird feeling that someone was following me but i ignored i thought it was just in my head it than i turned around again because i had the weird feeling again i knew it wasn't in my head than i saw a Citaly and i saw that there were shadows following us it was a black shadow but it vanished quick as a fly before i could observe it “guys did you see that” i said, “i saw it did you see it Jaylee” Citaly said ,“ guys stop and Alex stop scaring her we still have so much more to see dont mess thi- huh did one of you say something”,“No why what did you hear” i said, than jaylee turned around and saw the shadows that Citaly and I saw the shadow made all three of us so terrified the hairs on are neck sticked out and goosebumps running down are spine we knew that the shadows were certainly not are shadows that's when we knew we had to flee the spooky Ghost

The greatest thing about history is that every detail of it has a story. Being a historical interpreter I am fortunate enough to learn and tell these stories from hundreds of years ago. But even though I spend most of my summer completely immersed in history, I still find myself being amazed at the stories that we uncover from the smallest of artifacts. I like to think of them as little glimpses into what life was really like hundreds of years ago.

Jonathan is battling with depression and he is trying to use drugs and alcohol to mask his thoughts of worthlessness. The morning of 9/11, he is shocked by the news just like everybody else but when he goes to donate blood, he realizes that he still has drugs in his blood from the night before. But since they didn’t need any blood, he felt relieved, but feeling that made him more guilty about himself. He then gets asked by his neighbor to help her go to the city to say goodbye to her husband. They go downtown and as they are walking and looking for a morgue, he is weirded out by everything that his going on. He goes on to say, “We started walking east towards Bellevue. I remember we passed a restaurant where some people were outside eating. It was so strange, the world seemingly

Dalton took the bat and sat down on his uncomfortable, worn out, brown leather couch. He stared blankly at the black television screen waiting, he was waiting for the unknown, he was waiting for the being that was on the other side of the wall. Thoughts floated through his mind all night. “When is he going to come?” “Why didn’t he come yet?” “What happened to Linda?”. When morning finally came he tried to call sick to work but it didn’t ring once and decided to take a look at Linda’s house and when he was leaving his house he noticed something weird. He wasn’t in his apartment building any more.His apartment looked like it had been taken out of the building and put into the field behind where his apartment used to be. Out of nowhere he heard strange noises he looked around and saw nothing, until out of the corner of his eye he saw something, something that didn’t belong and it saw him. He started to run. He saw a patch of trees, he ran towards it. He ran through the trees for an hour, he started hearing cars in the distance so he knew he was close to

Dust flew, and there was a six foot hole in the wall. There was a man to my surprise, it looked like agent McHaven. But just as I was about to call to him my eyes drew weary—I felt faint. I fell to the ground with a thud. The next thing I knew was that I woke up in a white bed looking straight into the dark brown eyes of agent McHaven.

I kept walking forward and entered a maze. A maze filled with constant sighting of zombies at the end of maze I saw a tunnel two actually I had to choose. In the end I ended up doing eni, mini, miny, mo and went left. In the tunnel I saw two more zombies, one dressed as a S.W.A.T member and the other as a doctor. I figured that the doctor was only trying to help the soldiers because he was bit or infected. As I walked forward I saw a hall kinda like a hall of fame accept it was filled with dead people and the people on the walls were every kind of creepy in your mind leading up to one pictures frame on the wall. The biggest picture, the picture that stude out of all the pictures it was a picture of you in the that room doing what you are doing looking at a picture and not even realizing that you are being slowly surrounded by zombies. I took about 30 second in realizing that it was in fact a mirror and I was about to be eaten about about 2 and a half dozens of zombies I saw a door and as I ran out screaming I hear a man asking “ Would you like any souvenirs sir?” and I had forgotten that it

I arrived at the vacant lot around 8:25. The sun was yet setting again in the far distance. The empty train cars still littered the lot surrounding the vast opening. I walk toward the middle, wondering what I should be doing. It seemed like Alec hadn't arrived yet. And he's uptight about me arriving on time. I look some more, spinning in circles, trying to find him. Suddenly, I get the bejesus scared out of me when a dark figure popped out of the oblivion in front of my face. As I backed away, the figure became more clear. Then I see

A cry echoed from the heart of an old abandoned building. Quiet wails filled the empty hallways, the haunting echo ringing in my ears. Quickly, I whipped my head around to look for signs of possible footprints, or another soft whimper perhaps. “What could be causing such weeping?” was the first thought that entered in my train wreck of a mind. Suddenly, a pungent stench of fear filled my nose as I wandered about the maze of halls, my focus on the small trail of blood leading down the hallways. Perception and keened sensed activated for me as adrenaline rushed through my nerve-stricken body. As I darted about, scurrying around with senses on edge, I found in front of me a large room with towering ceilings.

Through the dismal half-light, my eyes could only just make out an immense staircase that stretched up the decrepit landing. A strange odour emanated from the wooden steps, suggesting I was perhaps not the first mortal soul to wander these deserted halls, nor would I be the last to leave, alive, at least. A series of gashes lined the wall, unsettlingly similar to those found in the gas chambers at Auschwitz. Below my feet, two depressions in the wood trailed up the stairs, worn away where people had once roamed. Burnt out candles lined the scorched snaking bannisters that ran parallel until they finally met further on. A chilling wind sliced through the floorboards creating an eerie whistle that echoed off the peeling walls.

Each time I walk into the gym I feel as if i'm a gladiator entering the area and knowing mentally that i'm the champion. Once I’m focused and start lifting and I feel the cold metal bar in my rough hands it feels as if there is nothing in the entire universe other than me and the rusted cold metal bar. Its as if the safety of the world relies on my ability to lift the bar off the ground.

I thought he was crazy at first, but on the other hand, there were a lot of passage ways in Grand Central Station, so there was a possibility that he may be right. After speaking with him, I went home to rest and think more thoroughly

The poem “In a Prominent Bar in Secaucus One Day” by Kennedy, uses both a narrator as well as a speaker. The speaker, a broken-down elderly courtesan, describes a first-hand account of her life in a bittersweet way that offers a lesson about her once lavish lifestyle. Meanwhile, the narrator provides relevant information about the setting and conclusion of the poem. The important combination allows the reader to gain a better understanding of the speaker.

I’m taken through a continuous hallway of blinding white walls. I lay there with a blank mind, staring at the ceiling, but I was interrupted by the man closing my eyelids. You know, the thing people do to dead people. Unsurprisingly, I wasn’t able to open them afterwards. So, I laid there in the darkness. But eventually, I feel the wheels of the table go over a bump on the ground, a sign of entering a new room.

Bar culture is thought to be a free for all and a very egocentric society, that is highly alcohol charged and a party scene. Due to this perception, it is often believed that bar culture is a society where there is not much interaction with others besides the bartender and or the individuals that you are with. I am a novice when it comes to bar culture for many reasons but one of the most profound factors is that my family has a bad history with alcohol but my interest is peaked by this society due to it being much of an adult playground. With my peaked interest and "ignorance" of this culture, I set out to find whether or not the American bar culture is truly a free for all or if it is a fairly warm and welcoming community

I wasn't sure if I wanted to be part of that world. I would be part of