THE VERTEX BAR
I. In the desert, an old man with a long graying beard slept naked under a blue tarp in the midday sun. Next to him was his staff, which he planted firmly into the ground. On the top of the staff read a wooden sign.
ASK FOR DIRECTIONS
The man was still sleeping when the girl arrived. She was young, maybe sixteen. Long golden hair stretched to her back. She wore only a leotard, even her feet were bare. The sun had baked her skin to a deep tan, and some of the skin had begun to flake away. Still, she was quite beautiful.
She walked slowly to the old man, her feet trying not to stand directly on hot dirt beneath her. She kept quiet, not sure what to make of the old man. He looked familiar, but she could not quite place his face. The old man spoke without lifting his head, and the girl stumbled backwards in surprise.
"You may ask one question, than I will tell you the right direction to go," the old man said in a dull monotone. His eyes did not open. In fact, the girl didn't think the old man even stopped snoring. The girl was shocked for a moment.
"Um, hello... I, um... Are you... the Ellimest?" Rachel stumbled with the words, though she already knew the answer.
"No," the old man said simply. "I know of who you speak, but I am not him. Please walk to your left till you find the door." With that, the old man said no more, and slipped even more into his 100 degree hibernation.
Rachel stood there for a moment, and with nothing to do, walked off to her left, where the sun was slowly dipping towards as the sun began its slow path into night.
---
The sun was creeping below the horizon when Rachel reached the door. The door stood without a frame or hinges, but it had a doorknob, and Rachel somehow knew it swung inside. The door was simple and wooden, with a round brass knob. The only other feature were the large letters engraved on the top of the door.
THE VERTEX BAR
Rachel slowly pulled herself to the door. That old man had the right idea. The heat made Rachel want to do little else but curl up and fall asleep as she got cooked alive. Despite the heat, the doorknob was cool on her hand, and she kept it there for a long time. It felt as if the coolness spread through her fingers up her arm and through her entire body, and her body tingled as it reached her toes.
Drunk off the cool and not thinking much, she twisted the doorknob and pushed. She closed her eyes as cool air swept over her, and she ran into whatever room the door led too with glee.
When she opened her eyes, she found she was in a bar, just as the door has said. It was an old fashion bar, something that looked like it was from the 1950s. The door was open, and huge glass windows revealed hills with large industrial buildings.
Mines, Rachel thought to herself. She didn't know much about history, but those seemed like the buildings you made around mines. An electric fan buzzed loudly above her head. There were tables set for four, each colored red and white stripes. There were two people in the bar besides herself. One was the bartender, a mustached man with a striped button shirt, an apron wrapped to his legs. He watched Rachel with a half-smile on his face. In his hand, he slowly cleaned a cup with a towel.
The other person was much more interesting. Dressed in a mess of green and brown garments with a tall pointed witch-like hat to top it off, Rachel could only see a large mesh of hair and a hand holding a glass. The hand was spotted and webbed, like a frog's.
Before she sat down on the barstool next to the frog man, Rachel took a quick note of the calendar. Many of the boxes were crossed out, so it wasn't hard to find out was day it was.
August 10th, 1953.
"Greetings, Rachel," said the bartender, his smile rising. "Welcome to the Vertex Bar. My name's Al. What can I get you?"
I. In the desert, an old man with a long graying beard slept naked under a blue tarp in the midday sun. Next to him was his staff, which he planted firmly into the ground. On the top of the staff read a wooden sign.
ASK FOR DIRECTIONS
The man was still sleeping when the girl arrived. She was young, maybe sixteen. Long golden hair stretched to her back. She wore only a leotard, even her feet were bare. The sun had baked her skin to a deep tan, and some of the skin had begun to flake away. Still, she was quite beautiful.
She walked slowly to the old man, her feet trying not to stand directly on hot dirt beneath her. She kept quiet, not sure what to make of the old man. He looked familiar, but she could not quite place his face. The old man spoke without lifting his head, and the girl stumbled backwards in surprise.
"You may ask one question, than I will tell you the right direction to go," the old man said in a dull monotone. His eyes did not open. In fact, the girl didn't think the old man even stopped snoring. The girl was shocked for a moment.
"Um, hello... I, um... Are you... the Ellimest?" Rachel stumbled with the words, though she already knew the answer.
"No," the old man said simply. "I know of who you speak, but I am not him. Please walk to your left till you find the door." With that, the old man said no more, and slipped even more into his 100 degree hibernation.
Rachel stood there for a moment, and with nothing to do, walked off to her left, where the sun was slowly dipping towards as the sun began its slow path into night.
---
The sun was creeping below the horizon when Rachel reached the door. The door stood without a frame or hinges, but it had a doorknob, and Rachel somehow knew it swung inside. The door was simple and wooden, with a round brass knob. The only other feature were the large letters engraved on the top of the door.
THE VERTEX BAR
Rachel slowly pulled herself to the door. That old man had the right idea. The heat made Rachel want to do little else but curl up and fall asleep as she got cooked alive. Despite the heat, the doorknob was cool on her hand, and she kept it there for a long time. It felt as if the coolness spread through her fingers up her arm and through her entire body, and her body tingled as it reached her toes.
Drunk off the cool and not thinking much, she twisted the doorknob and pushed. She closed her eyes as cool air swept over her, and she ran into whatever room the door led too with glee.
When she opened her eyes, she found she was in a bar, just as the door has said. It was an old fashion bar, something that looked like it was from the 1950s. The door was open, and huge glass windows revealed hills with large industrial buildings.
Mines, Rachel thought to herself. She didn't know much about history, but those seemed like the buildings you made around mines. An electric fan buzzed loudly above her head. There were tables set for four, each colored red and white stripes. There were two people in the bar besides herself. One was the bartender, a mustached man with a striped button shirt, an apron wrapped to his legs. He watched Rachel with a half-smile on his face. In his hand, he slowly cleaned a cup with a towel.
The other person was much more interesting. Dressed in a mess of green and brown garments with a tall pointed witch-like hat to top it off, Rachel could only see a large mesh of hair and a hand holding a glass. The hand was spotted and webbed, like a frog's.
Before she sat down on the barstool next to the frog man, Rachel took a quick note of the calendar. Many of the boxes were crossed out, so it wasn't hard to find out was day it was.
August 10th, 1953.
"Greetings, Rachel," said the bartender, his smile rising. "Welcome to the Vertex Bar. My name's Al. What can I get you?"