FicWad

The bar lies in semi-darkness, an eerie and uncomfortable silence hanging over the room. It's bigger once all the barflies have disappeared into the murky darkness of New Orleans.

In this odd city, the city that can put LA to shame with some of its oddities, Slash and I have become something of minor celebrities. The dark haired guitarist and his hidden faced boyfriend. Slash seems to revel in the attention, but I'm not so keen. People seem to have started flocking here, maybe to hear the music, maybe to drink, maybe to soak in whatever magic we're supposed to be giving off. Anything is possible here in New Orleans... Even though it's illegal everywhere, there have been hushed whispers of someone willing to marry us. A wayward priest of sorts although what sort of religion he practices I don't know. Here in the land of hoodoo it could be anything.

Slash has already gone to bed, leaving me to tidy up the mess. Discarded glasses and over-flowing ashtrays litter the tables. My feet stick to the wooden floor, years of drink making it impossible to clean.

Loading my fingers with glasses, I pick my way back towards the bar. The hissing gas lamps on the wall offer little protection from the shadows that stretch through the wood and stone building.

The dull brass lamps are what gave the bar its name - /Gaslight/. The lamps which flare to life as the sun drops, the flames finally dying once more as the sun begins to rise. The constant sighing of the gas conjures up images of older, simpler times. Sometimes I pause for a moment and wonder if my life would have been any different if I'd lived in Victorian New York or London.

Probably not.

A chill runs along my neck as I place the glasses on the bar. I shiver, the hairs on the back of my neck beginning to prickle and stand. A cold feeling of dread clutches at my heart as I turn to survey the bar.

Nothing.

Shaking my head, I curse myself for nearly running like a child. There's no one here but me and a roomful of empties. Walking to the table closest to me, I collect another armful of dried out glasses. Out of the corner of my eye I see something flicker. The glassware is back on the table in an instant as my head snaps up, heart pounding.

The flame of one of the gas lights flickers wildly as if blown by a hurricane. Transfixed, I watch as it blows and flickers, a crazy dance of fire. Then it's gone, disappearing into its metal holder. Swallowing, I turn and watch as each flame disappears, finally leaving the room in a thick darkness. I can't see a thing and the only is my panicked breathing.

A bitter coldness cloaks the room, my terror escalating as the temperature drops. My eyes scan the room, looking for something, anything that will explain this. It's a power-cut, it has to be. The electricity's gone off. It's not unusual and it's not the first time this has happened. That at least explains the chill. But what explains the sudden lack of gas? Why have the lights gone out?

The room begins to fill with an eerie green glow, so slowly that I don't notice at first. The lamps are flickering back to life, one at a time. Each has a flame that burns as green and as haunting as a will o' the wisp. The shadows are thick like treacle, oozing from beneath the chairs. I can seem them creeping across the floor, slithering and twisting around me.

Rooted to the floor, I look at the strangely lit room, the cold hand of terror clenching around my heart. Time feel like it's standing still, my breathing slowing with it. The shadows carry on moving, dark tendrils winding like creepers around the spindly table legs. Up and over the furniture, pooling in the empty space before the stage. I can feel them moving around me, an odd sticky warmth as they silently drip from fingers and back to the floor.

My eyes follow the stringy blackness, watching as it matts itself into something. It grows upwards, twisting and swirling, forming. I blink, trying to shake off what I'm seeing. But as I open them, I realise that it's still there. And it's looking at me.

Whatever it is is shimmering and transparent, the creature formed of shadows and smoke. My eyes travel over it, finally finding the creature's eyes. I groan, my body going limp as I stare into the shadowed face.

Eyes as green and as sparkling as emeralds stare straight back into mine, the gaze searching my very soul. Flame red hair flows out from an almost painfully gaunt and pale face.

"Jeffrey," the familiar looking ghoul hisses. "You killed me Jeffrey,"

"No." The word sounds so odd, hanging and fading like smoke. "No."

The stick thin figure glides towards me, legs disappearing into the spidery shadows. "You did Jeffrey." It cocks its head, the green eyes forever holding my gaze. "You threw me down the stairs. Do you remember Jeffrey? Do you?"

Feet firmly planted to the floor, I shake my head. "No," I quietly repeat.

The thing stands before me, its head still cocked to one side. A hand silently moves towards me, ice cold fingers touching my face. My eyes fall shut, trying to block the image as I shudder. I try to step back, try to move but find myself immobile.

"You killed me Jeffrey," the voice is like rustling, dead leaves. "And now..."

A wail fills the room and my eyes snap open. The creature stands, arms flung wide and its head back. Red hair swirls around its head as it howls.

Howling the forewarning of a death.