Debt

With the night’s rain battering down on him, a tall, powerfully built man stood motionless in the middle of a dimly lit urban road, his eyes fixed on one building that failed to stand out from the rest. An average height and width building with, dull grey brick work, stained in places with some sort of red paint, the stains almost looking like they could be letters but they were too few and far between to say anything. Despite its uninteresting appearance, the man remained staring, unblinking, looking shell shocked that it had the gall to be there. As though seeing it had shook him to his very core. Slowly the man tried to recover his senses; he zipped up his expensive looking leather jacket and walked slowly forward towards the front door of the building.

The front door like the rest of the building was grey, battered, boring not something which looked quite as intimating as the man clearly found it. In the man’s imagination the metal handle to radiated unbearable heat and weighed a ton, impossible to budge.

“I can’t do this” the man thought,

“No one would ever know I was here and didn’t go in”

“No, no, no, no, don’t do this”

“Why the fuck is it here”

“Why now … why the fuck now”

The man pulled the metal handle open.

The inside of the bar was very much so different to the exterior it seemed to have fell right of the Middle Ages, cramped, dark and gloomy. The interior walls were lined with dark wooden beams, on these wooden beams stood torches of fire, along with candles placed throughout the room these were the rooms only light source, there was no electric lights in the room at all, the walls themselves must have once been a shade of white and that could still vaguely be recognised through layer upon layer of dust. Placed sporadically throughout the room there were rows of wooden benches positioned around battered, beer stained tables. In the centre of the tiny room there stood a bar, with no beer taps, no refrigerators full of cold drinks, and no modern looking soda drinks. All that stood on the shelves behind where barrels of beer and unmarked bottle filled with a clear liquid.

The man stood, wild eyed in the door way feverishly scouring the room as though hoping beyond hope that he had mistaken the place. The hand full of aged, dusty looking people stared at him as though the very sight of him had deeply offended them. Looking from one person to another the man walked fully into the pub ducking his head slightly to get through the doorway. As the man walked towards the bar he seemed to be trying to re-summon his considerable strength, trying to puff himself out to his fullest size as though attempting to intimate the room as much as it had obviously affected him, however, this seemed to be in vain as the inhabitants of this room’s frosty gaze did not waver.

The man, eventually made his way to the bar, behind which stood a aged, skeletal looking man, with thin grey hair, dressed in a simple black pants and shirt. The barman’s cold dead eyes met the powerfully built man’s eyes, who by this time had given up his brave attempt bravado. The man, still staring into the bar man’s eyes, whispered;

 “Why now?”

“You know why” croaked the skeletal man,

“But … but my life … everything was going so … so, you said it would last” stammered the man,

“You knew the deal, you had to know this was coming” the bar man said in the same croaking voice, “we were always coming”

“wh… what now … pl... p… please, please one more day” begged the man

“No, you know, you won’t be leaving this place, your ours now” grinned the bar man

“NO NO, YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME, DON’T YOU KNOW WHO I AM, DON’T YOU KNOW WHAT I CAN DO” screamed the man, finally regaining a little strength

“You know who we are, you knew this was coming” calmly stated the thin bar man.

At the final word of the bar man, the inhabitants of the bar rose to their feet and slowly walked towards the man, still with the same look of frosty resentment. Slowly they circled him. Trashing, throwing punches at anything he could reach, however, despite the man’s great strength, he did not delay the crowd of people, as they trapped him, he slowly fell to the floor wailing, screaming  as his did so.

Back outside, in the dull, grey street the man’s screams of agony could not be heard, the sounds of the terrible things being done on the other side of the that plane grey door could not be heard. A woman past by walking a small dog, the woman did not even glance at the building; the building was after all no different to any of the others.

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A male teacher of average height and stature dressed in a subtle, smart, black suit, with a blue and white striped tie done up to the top, walked through a maze of winding school corridors, stopping occasional to give a disapproving stare, or a light telling off to trouble making teenagers. Each time he did this, the student would look up to him with the same look of respect  and guilt as if upset to have disappointed him, after each telling off the teacher would finish rebuild the student with a sincere, caring smile.

As the tides of students eventually crashed back into their classrooms at the sound of the school bell, the teacher was able to walk faster. His route seemed to be improvised but full of purpose, until eventually he found what he had been looking for, a classroom exactly the same as the dozens of others on the corridor. The same worn, blue door against a background of a greying white wall, same as every other class room, as the man drew closer and closer to the door, the small red symbols became clearer and clearer. He stopped for just a moment, taking one final look around the school, drinking in every detail. Then he walked through the door without hesitation.

Sitting side by side around the desks sat people, who on first glance appeared to be teenagers, but, upon looking closer, their faces where old and dusty looking. Their eyes fell upon the teacher as he strolled into the room, in their eyes could be seen that same look of respect and guilt, as if they had hoped he was not going to walk through the doorway. The teacher looked back into the eyes of the people one by one and cracked the same sincere smile.

Sitting at the head table sat a thin, skeletal looking man, dressed in simple black pants and shirt. When the teacher drew level with the desk, the skeletal man rose stiffly to his feet, this man did not look into the teachers eyes with any look of emotion, behind those eyes were cold, emotionless, unfeeling.

“So here we are” said the teacher in an voice full of acceptance,

“Indeed” croaked the skeletal man,

“Thank you … thank you for giving me something to give” the teachers voice now full of emotion, but no hint of sadness, regret or fear,

“You know who we are, you knew this was coming”

Upon this final word, the teacher allowed the old, dusty people to slowly surround him. Offering no resistance as they swiftly and mercifully snapped the man’s neck. Respectfully they rotting people raised his limp body up high as they carried his towards his final destination.

Outside in the corridor a young student, without knowing why began to cry deeply.