[WP] " Here friend, take a drink and tell me your tale." "It seems I just got out of a violent gunfight" "Woah, how'd you survive? " " That's the thing, I don't think I did. "

June 15th, 1999

The floodlights along Mire Street were dancing across my vision. I could hear everything happening on the street- it was all pounding against my brain, screeching and hollering in my brain as I squeezed my eyes shut and brought my hands to my ears. I was stumbling around, crashing into cars parallel parked along the street.

The old Sal's Bar sign flickered above the door. Old Sal had been dead over a decade now. It'd been years since his family sold that old joint.

The sign had been gone for years now, or so I'd thought. Last time I was down Mire Street was 7 years to this day- and back then, Sal's was boarded up.

My head was pounding, but I could strangely go for a drink right about now. I could hear the hum of the old jukebox behind the door as I reached to swing it open.

Sal was sitting behind the bar, watching the baseball game. He nodded toward me in acknowledgement of my arrival, and I did the same.

"You look a little confused there, pal," said one of the older gentlemen sitting at the corner of the bar.

"I uh-, well yeah... Sal's been... this place... been boarded up..."

"I think the last thing you need is a drink, buddy."

"Well no- I'm just a little confused... what's today's date?"

The man laughed, and bobbed his head toward the TV. "The fifteenth of June. Mets are playin' the Reds."

"Well, uh, that doesn't help me very much. Tell me the whole date. Year and all."

The man gave me the most concerned look I'd ever received in my life.

"We're half a year till a new millennium... here, friend. Take a drink. Tell me your tale. On me." He opened his wallet and slipped a five dollar bill across the table to me, but I shook my hand at it in refusal.

I rubbed my forehead and only felt my skin. Looking at my hand to double check it was clean, I looked the seated man in the eye and whispered, "It seems I just got out of a violent gunfight."

He put down his drink and diverted his attention away from the game. "Excuse me?"

"I think I just got out of a violent gunfight."

"Woah, how'd you survive?"

"That's the thing. I don't think I did."

The man's face dropped. "Son, I don't know if you remember, but 12 years ago you first walked in here. The name's Peter, and 12 years ago I didn't think you'd enjoy this bar very much. Now I'm certain that I feel quite differently. Grab a drink. My old friend will be here in a few moments. His name's Jesus, you've probably heard of him."

/r/WritingPrompts Thread