Age: Part 1

Oh man! Was this a great use of my time or what! I’m serious, some books I’ve read can’t come CLOSE to what you have written friend! (though those books were nonfiction, so I’m a bit biased in favor of the opposite). I am itching to read part 2!!
But of course, what made it so good?
Well, for starters, the concept you wanted to focus on: dialogue. The entire piece contrasted deeply with many of the other fiction works I have read, in that the writing makes the story feel like it revolves around the people. No kidding, you put one, maybe two sentences into describing the atmosphere and setting of the story, while every other sentence aimed to add personality to the characters! I loved how I could hear the voices of the characters so clearly, and how each of them contrasted each other! Ace was clearly a foil character to Old Neil, in the best way possible.
Number two, I loved how we were, quite literally, a fly in the corner of the room and their minds. We could see and hear what was happening without being given a point of view character, while also taking trips into the minds of all the characters every once in a while. This made the story seem more personal, but the feeling never favored one character!
This could be taken as criticism even though I do not mind it, but the story did not have any plot. It was kind of like a podcast, a slice of life, and that honestly felt refreshing to read after so many dramatic stories.
I loved Ace, and his energetic attitude. What’s more, you somehow made his energy contagious, and I savored every second of his dialogue.
I adored Old Neil, and aspire to have his character traits. Wisdom that did not fade with age. Humor that remains vibrant. Contentment that many adults do not have.
Garten was questionable, and I could not connect with him as well as I had the other two. However, I do realize that Garten, though not the most interesting, is probably the most realistic representation of a middle-aged man in a bar.
Amazing story.
Many kudos.
Props to you.
Keep it up.

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! I'm here to leave a quick review!!

First Impression: Well this was quite the little tale here. It started out with a note of tension there but I think it eases off very well into a beautiful little story of this one day at a bay where a boy happened to sneak in. It makes for quite a lovely little tale here.

Anyway let's get right to it,

*Ding*

Somewhere and nowhere, in an unknown, time-weary bar, rings a silver bell. A signal of someone new, someone old, someone dead.

“Hi there!”

Small and skinny, wearing overalls and a flat cap, just budding into his body. Brown hair disheveled, though not from a hard life, a conscious choice. His white hand swivels the chair towards him, grinning a mouthful of dirty teeth as he pushes off towards the counter.

“Grab me a pint of the usual old man!”

A pair of stranger eyes stare at the boy. Hints of warmth and curiosity.

“I must apologize young man, but it seems my memory has faded, I can’t say I recognize you.”

Wiser than the boy would hope, the old man plays along with the antiques of the teen. Smiling, enjoying the fresh babyface counter to the elder. As the two strangers play their game the bartender makes sure to continue his work, wiping the counter with a used rag.

“You be getting old, I've been here maybe millions of times! You ‘ohtta get your brain checked.”

The man's balding white hair and wrinkled skin attract his eyes, there a clear indication of their difference. He wanders down his face, graying sideburns make the boy think of how he might look at his age.

“One glass of whiskey and… and another on the rocks!”

“Coming right up.”

Quite a spectacle the bartender made with the drinks, the young boy had never seen someone so skilled! His hands nary a single involuntary shudder, always purposeful shaking of bottles or soaring booze.

“Since my mind seems to have waned, mind catching me up on your name and how old you be son?”

A wink and a smile are sent the boys way.

“Ace at your service! Just turned twenty-one too, merely a week ago!”

The boy lifted his hands and pointed to his chest with two thumbs; making himself look proud and large.

“Twenty-one, why you don’t look a day over twelve! Perhaps I need my old reading glasses to see this man you claim to be.”

“Twelve! Why you ohtta get those reading glasses! I'm six… twenty-one! Just as I told ya.”

The boy's face flashes in embarrassment, scared his slipup would cost him the drink.

“You kids are getting bolder every day now.”

A glass of whiskey, clearest ever seen, brown as a bear, with two ice cubes floating in serene water slides towards the boy before it's caught by a hand, halting the sudden enjoyment and smile of the youth.

“Now Ace, I know you’re not twenty-one, so why don’t you let me in on your little secret and I'll let you have a glass, on the house eh?”

Ace’s face stills, contemplating whether to reveal who he is to the bartender or continue his white lie.

“Fineeee… you did get me. I’m sixteen. But I swear, I’m much more mature than others my age, so I'm basically twenty-one!”

His hands dart out swift as a rat, stealing the drink from the old man’s hands.

“You did said I can have it remember, can’t go back on a promise!”

The boy's grin widens with satisfaction. He managed to get what he came here for, even after having his real age discovered!

The old man chuckles at the boy’s energy.

“Why I did say that didn’t I. Suppose it's yours then! Enjoy it while you can, you can be sure you're not getting anymore from me.”

“So, what's your name anyways old man? I’ve telled you mine. Given to me by my mama.”

“You can call me Old Neil.”

“Seem a bit old to be the bartender.”

The boys provoking is lost to the older man. A kind stillness encapsulates his mind. Wary of acting out, of losing the fun.

“I'm not just the bartender, I’m the owner of this fine establishment too.”

The man opens his arms up as if the sun were descending, spinning around being sure to face each four corners of the bar. Proud of the work he's put in. No matter if the floor continues to creak or the ceiling has the occasional leak, this is his place, his home.

“Well go on now boy, you asked for the drink so go ahead and down it. Just as we adults do you know?”

Round, round, and round goes the whiskey. The boy can't help but wonder, was it the best idea to get this? What if I don't like it, what if it makes me sick? Faced with the final moment, the boy now hesitates.

“Do you adults really just… gulp it?”

“Why yes we do Ace, try holding your nose as you pour it down. Should make things easier.”

Ace looks at Old Neil, a little wary and apprehensive. All that greets him is another smile, a strangely mischievous one.

“Fine! Here I go, just you see. I'm going to drink all of this in one go!”

Down goes the whiskey. Flowing harshly as a river down the boy's throat.

*Cough Cough*

“Nope. No more, I'm ok, I don't need any more. Thank you though, thank you real kindly.”

The boy leans down beneath the counter, one hand clutching the ridge and the other on his stomach. With regret and sorrow, he lifts his hand to wave a declaration of thanks to the old man.

“Oh my, what a funny boy you are! You got a taste of your own medicine right there, hope you enjoyed your drink!”

Old Neil laughs as much as his body can allow, ecstatic he could trick the boy who was ‘duping’ him.

“I’ve got a second ‘on the rocks’, ready to have another?”

“No no, tomorrow for sure though. I’m just a little hungry, that's all. If I’d have eaten I could’ve had the whole bottle!”

*Ding*

The bell goes off once more, signaling another rest to someone else's journey.

“Afternoon there Neil. Two glasses of scotch.”

Mismatched and loose, the newcomers' outfit identified him as of the poorer working class. Dirt and grime seemed to bore from the patches of skin that wormed out from torn holes. The boy laughed, thinking it looked like he had just been attacked by a flock of moths! He still had a long handlebar mustache though, would a moth eat a mustache?

“Actually, make that three. Wife and kids are a hassle, can't stand the house anymore. Almost makes me see work through those commies' eyes.”

Every word out of the newcomer's mouth came in grunts and grumbles, discontent and flares of either anger or disappointment emerged after each sentence. Maybe he thought rough of his family, or just himself. Men like him could be seen everywhere, though not in the higher districts. Anywhere bellowing factories and smoke could be found these particular men were not far. Angered at the state they lived in, yet still hopeful for the great dream America promised them.

“Everyones rioting or striking, making everything difficult for us hard-working men. Got to hear whining from coworkers and my wife's mouth… tell me Neil, what has this country gone to.”

The man walked in with a tired stride, not quite as skipper as the young one but not quite as careful as the bar owner. Age thirty-five, always thinking next year will be different, new job, new boss, new life.

“Pssttt, Old Neil. Who’s the guy?”

“Well Ace, this be Garten. Garten, this be Ace.”

The man was sitting two seats down from the boy, one hand clutching his glass he slowly turned to face the boy. Contrasting the boy’s starry eyes, his were dull, grey, almost bored.

“Bit young aren’t you? …Not like I care. Better to numb yourself early I say, it’ll make the rest of your years easier to bear.”

He takes a sip from one of his glasses.

“Now come on Garten, no need to be a downer. You listen here young man, try to enjoy the time you have and the people you know, never guess when it might disappear. Don't end up like Garten over here, he’ll learn though… we all do.”

“Just come from work sir? I'm planning to start work soon! Wanna really do all that stocks and stuff, but my father won't teach me nothing ‘bout it all. What do you do for work mister?”

“What do you think boy? Don’t you see, nearly black all over, can’t even call myself white. Murder! That's what it is! Their killing us boy, making us work for mesely grains while stuffing our bellies with black dust or whatever.”

One, two. Down goes the scotch. Hazing all that thinks and wanders. A man walks through a valley of tides once alcohol brings its mighty gift.

“It can’t be that bad. Right? I did heard that you make money, then you can buy chocolate, a house, even some girls!”

“Might have to do just that.”

“Now Garten, don’t you be treating yourself to some other broad! You got your wife at home and she does dearly love you. Though can’t see why.”

A tinge of laughter mixes into the serious atmosphere, to lighten the mood he thought it would. Garten didn’t find it funny.

“You don’t know how it be Neil, I could swear she’s got some black fella at that salon she keeps going to! Mayhaps I should follow her, kill the man if I see but a touch on what’s mine.”

“Have faith my friend. You have no idea how lucky you are to have a wife like her, dream of growing old like me, her, and your two little children by your side. Though I suppose they’ll be a bit older, won't they? But your eyes will always see their young selves, that’s the love us parents have. It’ll do you some good, trust me.”

Time passes on, seconds turn to minutes, minutes to hours. Far too quick for the three to fathom. The boy eternally chatters up his senior, laughing, enjoying the company of someone so much different than he. The bar owner is content, and even happy to be in his company. His boisterous, youthful nature brigthens up even the darkest corners of the place. The working man returns to his American cog. His back crooked, his face without a thought, and his mind elsewhere, he left the quiet place, weary and dim. Waiting another day to visit this bar that welcomes all types of travelers with a smile and a glass to drown their woes.

Hey hey! Sky here to read and review! I'll be writing my review as I read to give you my thought process! Let's get into it!

First off I love how you start this story. I like the description you sneak in about the characters and the bar. Very nice pace too! Very interesting!

Ah an adolescent taking advantage of the poor old man. Something tells me this old man was already caught up to this trick. At first I did think from the tone this young man was giving towards the older gentleman he was 21 if he were going to be so disrespectful in his manner. But makes a little more sense now that it's all an act to get a drink.

Oh my gosh the more I read this the more I love it! I love how quickly the gentleman caught on and seemed to let the boy get the amusement before dashing it. And the sneaky assurance of getting a drink is an amazing detail that I loved!

Old Neil. Love that! I can already imagine this man in my head. You give very good descriptions to the point where I'm not struggling to picture what the old man could look like. Though we might have two very different gentlemen in mind, I still find this very well-written!
The story seems even more sweet to know that this man is an old bartender but also owns the place and is proud of his hard work!

Ah so I have done some alcohol tasting myself but I don't think I've tried whiskey before. However, I have tried stronger drinks where it literally feels like your throat is on fire so I can understand the boy's pain of a first-time GULPING the drink down. Good grief, isn't that a sipping think?

This new man, I can see him being in his early 40s, tired of the repetitive life he does and angry with the world around him. It's sad how scotch seems to be his only enjoyment now in his life.

Ah ha! 35. I was close I guess. But I did get some of my guesses right! In just the few sentences you wrote to introduce this man you portrayed him very well!

....getting vibes from Garten that he might be a little racist lol. But makes sense if this is more of the olden days if one would put it like that.

overall I do not have many criticisms here! Very well written piece and I hope to read more stories like this from you!

Soar high and keep on writing!
-Sky