The Tavern
The piano played softly. Or the soft piano played a melody to smooth out the edges of another rough week. It had an empathetic touch. She never raised her drink to her lips due to the intoxication of song. Cradled by the booth in the back corner she exhaled a deep sigh, as she tried to avoid Monday. A single glass of a local red was a Friday night ritual. But for now, contentment was beyond the grape as a crescendo built up by masterful fingers on keys of black and white.
The beast crouched outside in the dank and dark alley. Its claws grasped fear of tomorrow.
The candles brightened smiles. Or bright smiles reflected off the twenty-one candles. But the wax dripped into the cake like the tears of the birthday girl soaked into her heart. A private party of only two in the reserved back room was spotted with a mix of joy and sorrow as was painted on the face of her eldest sister. The pendulum on the clock down the hall stirred the present moment, and at the same time the grief of yesterday. They forced smiles and fought to celebrate the momentous occasion.
The beast ogled through the frosted window with eyes of red. Raised above its scarred head was anger against loss.
The bent ear heard all. Or the ear of his long-time friend was bent around the corner of the bar -- and listened. Buddies since high school. They were parked on adjacent stools for hours over a couple of pints. One soaked it all in, while the other's blood boiled. One glass was half full, while the other was half empty as he voiced his displeasure of being a useless tool. The spirit of the latter was filled by the dedication of the former. Yet, something lurked in the recesses of his mind.
The beast cracked the heavy wood door open as one foot hovered over the threshold. Hidden behind its back was hatred toward another.
While others danced their troubles into the hardwood floor, the beast charged in as it splintered the door frame. Shards of indifference pierced the ceiling and walls as a dark veil cast shadows of doubt into the minds of the patrons. Under attack, their route of escape was blocked. It smacked fear at anyone who would succumb to it. It hammered down a steady rage of anger. And from its hidden place, it swung hatred in a berserk frenzy. It preyed on their happiness.
The patrons gazed at one another, stunned by the evasion. Or it was an invasion into their refuge. A few begun to shiver and shrink into the shadow. But courage thrived in certain pockets of the tavern. Their strength came not from the spirits displayed behind the bar. Something greater than a strong proof proved a finer flavour. Out from the walls of social exclusion, there arose quality in character. Enough suffered! The fearful woman came to the aide of the birthday girl challenged with anger, while the man tempted by hate turned toward love. In turn, he offered to lighten the burden of anyone who faltered. And they all faced the beast together. For three are stronger than one, or two.
“Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves.
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” – Ecclesiastes 4:12
