A Pint and the Roundtable

Thank you to K. Rawson and What Pegman Saw. I’ve read the stories for a while now that others have written, but I’ve never taken part before. I’m happy to do so now and much appreciative for the prompt.

Long John’s Showbar, Great Yarmouth, UK

A Pint and the Roundtable

I sit at the circular table where we all once sat, laughing, drinking Hobgoblin, eating crisps, playing a game of songs and singers.

Their faces, all sparkling with joy and laughter, are so clear to me.

The table is now surrounded by ghosts. The ones who’ve died. The ones whose minds have gone. The ones who no longer speak to me.

The veil descends over us all.

“Miss? Are you expecting others?” It’s the baby-faced bartender, pale and respectful.

I look at the empty chairs.

A soft voice, mine, says: “We’re done.”

end

Sascha Darlington

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22 replies »

  1. Superb. You brought the moment to life, literally.could feel hear see what was happening. Loved it!

  2. Great details and emotion; I really felt I was there with her. It rings so true, and so sad, that every group of friends eventually comes down to fewer and fewer in the end, no matter how much you rail against time and death.

  3. Beautifully atmospheric, Sascha. Delicately written too. A rougher hand migh have overplayed the loss, the details, but you caught the tone perfectly – just lovely. Haven’t drunk a pint of Hobgoblin in years myself 🙂

      • It is still brewed! I can’t drink it anymore due to dietary problems, but I still see it. Shame you can’t get someone to smuggle some out for you 🙂

      • Oh, I probably could. However, I should probably get my passport renewed and get my butt back to England. Draft is always better, not to mention the company. 🙂

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