The New Year

Oliver was an average man. he did what any average guy in a shit can of a town would do on New Years, he went to the closest bar to plaster himself to welcome the next “average” year. It didn’t take too long for him to reach that buzzed level, as almost a dozen shots of Devil’s Cut had him swaying from side to side, his speech slurred and a permanent look of chagrin branded on to his face. He goofily raised his arm to call for another shot. “ Heyy brooo lem-lemme git ano-nother!” The burly, sad looking bartender responded; “You’ve had enough pal, you’ve done this every year since I can remember.” A look of disappointment proceeded to wash over his face towards the end of his rebuke. “Wha-!?”

He was cut off by an odd sensation. He could feel a stare, like daggers being thrown at him. It was a sixth sense type of feeling, it was terrifying, a powerful mixture of all emotions tightened into a small ball that felt like it was located in his chest. He coughed hard, like anxiety was wrapping it’s cold hand around his throat and squeezing. He looked up in a daze, searching the room for who, or what, was responsible for this. He spotted a small silhouette in a darker corner of the bar, it’s most prominent feature being the eyes. They were a robust frost color, so light blue they were almost white. He could feel them look him over, pierce his skin, and seep into his soul. The small shadow made a graceful movement upwards into an upward poise. And did a slow walk out of the darkness.

A small woman emerged from the shadowy perch and walked directly at him. Oliver held his breath almost painfully, all while examining her.