Guests In The Pub

They were the four again – the local teacher, the vicar, Old Pencho and the landlord.
Sitting, chatting leisurely and sipping the wine.
Unexpectedly the pub’s door opened slowly, with a continuous creak.
And nobody came in.
The teacher rose immediately but was held back by Old Pencho’s hand and, even with displeasure, obeyed and sat down again.
It was murky in the pub.
The four were sitting in the dusk, gazed at the empty rectangular white space.
As if nothing was happening.
But it was, though.
The chair by one of the tables moved jerky, then drew nearer again.
As though a person sat on.
The four could feel a cool puff pervading the pub and frightened, the men shuddered.
The vicar tried to cross himself, raised his hand, hesitated and gave up, staring at the empty space opposite him where the pub’s door was a minute ago.
   Old Pencho smiled reluctantly and whispered:
“ They are…”
   The other three glanced at him but their lips remained silent.
They were only winking with fear.
Sitting and waiting.
Soon the other chairs began moving, it seemed invisible guests sat on them.
As if men in file entered the pub and sat down.
One could think it was towards nightfall and the village folk came and took their seats. The newcomers, however, were invisible now.
   Unusual coolness fell over, feeling it - the men shivered.
“My Goodness!”, eventually the teacher could sigh, long he had been trying to utter a word.
“Wot, wot, wot’s up?”, the landlord whispered and his fat fingers twitched. Sweat had burst out under his armpits in huge spots, enlarging.
“Pour them!”, the teacher murmured and nodded toward the table where the invisible were sitting.
“Arent’ you crazy! “ - the landlord snapped with a cracked voice and settled back in the chair ; it crackled – stocky and fat he was.
“Pour, Yolo, pour…the clientele…”, Old Pencho nodded peremptorily and severely .
The landlord realised he had no choice, bent his beefy neck and slowly headed toward the counter, casting his eyes mistrustfully, at times on the left, at others – on the right.
“I’ll pour, but you, teacher, as you’re supposed to be learned, to always know…you serve the glasses!”, the landlord said and pushed the first two ones he had filled with wine.
The teacher ran briskly over and took the glasses, took them away to the first table and left them in front of two empty chairs.
He stopped and peered with wonder – struck curiosity.
Then the four men saw how the two glasses raised, bent and part of the wine poured into some invisible thirsty throats.
Then the glasses perched on the table but their content was at least two inches less.
Most of the invisible guests drank one, others tippled two, but some – three whole glasses!
While the teacher and the landlord were up serving the invisible, unexpected, unusual guests, the vicar was crossing himself hectically and Old Pencho was smiling in reverie.
They left as they’d come.
Suddenly one of the chairs jerked.
The door was still gaping open.
The other chairs moved, too.
The invisible guests left silently and inaudibly.
The pub was being emptied, the door slammed noisily behind the last of them.
Then the landlord edged out of the counter, sat by the vicar and groaned:
“Gosh, I have seen miracles, but I haven’t dreamt such!
As if he had lost his tongue, struck dumb, the priest was trying to articulate something , but nothing came out, his hands uncontrollably trembling.
Only the teacher kept his head and winked slyly at Yolo:
“Common, treat us now, you skinflint”
“ Pour yourself, I’ m quite fatigued to smile”, confessed the landlord, sweaty from fear and strain; waving his hand in front of his face and loudly breathing.
The teacher didn’t wait to be invited again – went behind the counter and angled the demijohn, where the landlord kept the wine.
“Go inside, rascal, it is empty.”, the landlord shouted and moaned:
“So much wine in vain…Who is going to pay?…”
“Lucky you are, rotter”, the teacher joyously called out and having grabbed the demijohn, lifted it with effort and put it on the greasy counter:
“It is brimful! You are in the black, rotter!”, and poured himself in a beer mug then with a free hand filled the others’ glasses, even the landlord’s one.
Brought the wine, grinning from ear to ear and sat next to them.
No one wanted to speak.
Sitting, sipping the wine and looking round.
“I’ve always thought we are alone, but I didn’t believe it, no”, the teacher tapped on the table.
“All the dead dear circle around, watch us…”, Old Pencho said in a dream.
“I’ve heard so much, but to come at your pub – I have never…And booze !”, the mayor sighed.
“Booze! Of course they will! Pour wine over their graves more often, then!”, Old Pencho said. “ Drink now and be silent, my fellows.”
The teacher nudged the priest .
As if he woke up and cried vigorously:
“Silence, silence, that’s it, fellows! Silence and tribute to our holy de –e – a – d!”
He grabbed the glass, raised it, being slightly spilled over, and courageously drank it at a gulp.

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All content on this site is subject to copyright © 2000/2006
If you wish to use anything either text or graphics please ask permission