06 Black Hollow Bar

An evening at the bar

06

Black Hollow Bar

 

Dimness had settled in for the evening. The sun was casting its usual orange-red luminosity across the scattered cloud through the valley. Jack and Luke were spending their evening in the Black Hollow Bar. It wasn’t a big bar, it wouldn’t have held the entire village in one sitting, but it could handle a good 20 odd. It was dimly lit, as small village bars are, made predominantly out of wood, probably the same wood that surrounded the village, and held an array of vintage items around the walls from tin lanterns, old sledge hammers, hard helmets, pick axes, and other old tools. Luke was drinking a pint of Hope’s Pale Ale and Jack was drinking his whiskey coke. The room spoke for itself in terms of social circles, loggers and non-loggers. And the logging group was divided into fallers and loaders; there were no more than 15 people, including the owner, Lucy. Silence was covered by the sound of sound of small talk, a tinny jukebox with dated country music, and a small TV receiving a less than perfect, but watchable picture that was broadcasting news from outside of Black Hollow.

Al, Eric and Steve were making their own circle of conversation; talking about life, personal hobbies, and the occasional comfort of 3 men sitting in silence and drinking beer. Jack and Luke were talking about the weekend, their plans to return to the quarry and do some more shooting with the crossbow.  Jack had taken a keen liking to the crossbow, though he had only fired it a few times, he had already pictured himself in camouflage clothing, green and black streaks across his face, mud on and in his boots, staring down the scope at the windpipe of an adult deer with only a 20 or 30 foot gap between them, the deer totally unaware of its impending doom. One minute, alive; passing air in and out of its large lungs, light piercing through its eyes, tall and sturdy neck holding those bulky heavy antlers on its head. The next minute; Therwoomp! Air skimming past the quivers, the arrow tip slicing through the space between them, the muted thump as the arrow slips through its throat and lodges neatly into a tree just on the other side, dripping blood onto the ground. The deer has no idea what just happened, something bad. It would bleed out in under a minute, after that, Jack would have to learn the rest.

 

“How about another, Jack?”

Lucy was in her mid 30’s, slim, very good looking. She had shoulder length black hair, piercing blue eyes, pale skin, and always dressed in black.

“Yes please, Lucy” Jack smiled.

“Luke?”

“You betchya Hon” Luke tipped his cap to the lady.

She whipped up the glasses and returned to the bar to restore the contents.

 

“Do you think we should get a hunting license?” Jack asked.

Luke paused for thought, his moustache rose on one side. “Probably. Though I don’t think anyone up here would really bother us, and there’s no question of getting caught hunting without a license by the officials all the way up here, just wouldn’t happen. Probably should play it safe, but I’ll look into it tomorrow and if it’s too much of a hassle, then, f**k it!”

Author's Note

subject to change, work in progress