BLOOD RED
On a pitch black night in the dead of winter, a young man made his way to the tavern. It was the same tavern he had always frequented since he came of age, The Tavern On The Hill. The young man ordered the same half-pint of bitter that he usually ordered. The beer was warm and served in a half-pint glass. He sat at his usual bar stool, and waited.
That night, there were several new customers, Strangers. The young man had no desire for chatter, and he was not one for gossip. In fact, he despised the people in The Tavern On The Hill. Their seediness, nastiness, and pettiness, that reflected the seediness, nastiness and pettiness of people in general.
In the corner, two men played darts. It looked as if they were betting on the outcome of each throw. Women huddled together in the corners, and old men sat at small tables smoking tobacco in choking clouds of smoke and dust.
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