Young Writers Society

The next morning, the bartender woke up late. Luckily, the bar was closed that day so it gave him some time to actually do stuff. Yawning, he made his way to the kitchen, which was adjacent to the bar, and helped himself to some cereal. Then hobbling out of the kitchen, he went into the “living room” (which was just an entertainment room with a tv and some gaming stuff) and turned on the tv.

The news channel was on, featuring a new story update about a giant orb of light flashing across the sky late last night. As the reporter spoke about it, the bartender continued to munch at his cereal. It then showed a video of the so-called “orb” flying across the sky and disappearing behind a building.

The bartender snorted, thinking, for all they know it could be some kid messing with them. Suddenly, there was a knock on the front door of the bar. Knotting his eyebrows, he stood up and went to the door. He peered through the peephole and saw the woman from last night but this time, she seemed jittery.

Sighing, he opened the door. “Ma’am, the bar’s closed today. Can’t you read the sign?”

The woman glared up at the bartender. “I can read. I just need to show you something. Can I come in?”

The bartender frowned and moved out of the way. The woman walked in, shaking off the coldness of outside.

“How did you know I lived here?” the bartender asked, moving away from her.

The woman shrugged. “I just assumed. If I was wrong, I could’ve just gone to the police station and asked for your name.”

“Yeah, but, you don’t know my name.”

“Oh, right. Well, what is it?”

“I’m not telling you. Anyway, what do you have to show me?”

The woman sighed, digging into the pocket of her coat. “It’s just another letter from my son. And since you are the person who seemed to care-”

“You decided to come to me. You know, you could just go to the police and have them look into it?”

“I was going to do that,” she admitted. “Though, what happened last night, even in my drunken splendor, it seemed best to talk to you.”

The bartender crossed his arms. “I suppose you have a point. So, what does this letter say?”

“Well, I just found it this morning on my doorstep, on top of a small brown package. I opened up the package and the only thing inside was a key. And when I read the letter, it really didn’t mention anything about the key. But, it did tell me where my son might be,” she explained. She then took out the letter and handed to the bartender.

The writing was a bit different from the previous letter she had shown him. The words were slightly neater, the word choice was far more elegant than before, and the spacing seemed stretched out more.

“I don’t know if your son wrote this,” the bartender pointed out. “Do you have the letter you showed me last night?”

The woman nodded, digging into her coat pocket and giving him the letter.

“Here, let’s go sit at a table so we can set the letters down and compare them. Do you want some coffee, by the way?”

“Sure, that sounds nice.”