“Go on” Miguel prompted.
“After that, the town dared not touch the beast. Later that day, the village came together to bury Brock's body. Everyone was there. No one was unaccounted for. The body was wrapped, and carried to the cemetery outside of town behind the church. When we returned, the beast was gone; and the fountain, ran red with its blood. The beast has not been seen or found since.”
“That is odd.”
“That’s…not all.” Dorn continued “Ever since that day, everyone who touched Brock’s body have died.”
Miguel sat back and looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “Well. A mystery indeed.”
Dorn began clinching his face muscle, forcing out a few tears. He had become good at that.
Dorn looked around the room at his audience. Everyone now stared openly at him. Not embarrassed by their boldness.
“For the next two weeks they all died. Six people all told. All found dead in their beds. Each one torn to shreds. At each body a pentagram was found burned into the floor beneath their beds with the words ‘The Urge’ written below.”
“The devil claiming his victims?” Miguel asked. His voice gave a slight stutter.
Dorn shrugged. “Like I said before: I’m not the superstitious type.”
“And your lover?”
“Gone” Dorn bent forward in his chair and rubbed his face with both hands. “At Brock’s burial Ellen placed a rose on his chest as he was lowered down. She was the last to touch the body.”
“When did she die?” Miguel was now fully invested.
“She- she didn’t. At least, we never found a body. One day she was just…gone.” By now Dorn had managed to produce a steady stream of tears to run down his face.
After a moment, a laugh could be heard coming from Andrew. Not a happy laugh, but one of derision. Mocking.
“The barkeeper speaks as though he had nothing to do with it!”
“Andrew!” Dorn chided
Miguel’s eyebrows rose at this as he turned to look at both Dorn and Andrew.
“My father always said you were doing the devils work! Curse you, Dorn! God will judge you. Eternal hell waits for your kind!”
Andrew stood rooted to the spot, shaking with fear and anger.
Miguel glanced between the two several times. Dorn never met Andrew’s glare.
“Andrew-“ Dorn began, but Miguel cut him off.
“Andrew” Miguel had not addressed him yet. Miguel stood and walked slowly towards the young man as he spoke. “If master Dorn here is truly doing the work of the evil one, would not you yourself be in peril just standing here? Why, who knows what satanic rituals and sacrifices have been made right where you stand!”
Andrew glanced at Miguel and then looked quickly around the room as if to find some evidence of that very evil in front of him.
Andrew looked back at Dorn and spat in his direction. “You'll answer to God, barkeeper.”
Andrew left and vowed then not to set foot in the tavern again.
“After that, the town dared not touch the beast. Later that day, the village came together to bury Brock's body. Everyone was there. No one was unaccounted for. The body was wrapped, and carried to the cemetery outside of town behind the church. When we returned, the beast was gone; and the fountain, ran red with its blood. The beast has not been seen or found since.”
“That is odd.”
“That’s…not all.” Dorn continued “Ever since that day, everyone who touched Brock’s body have died.”
Miguel sat back and looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “Well. A mystery indeed.”
Dorn began clinching his face muscle, forcing out a few tears. He had become good at that.
Dorn looked around the room at his audience. Everyone now stared openly at him. Not embarrassed by their boldness.
“For the next two weeks they all died. Six people all told. All found dead in their beds. Each one torn to shreds. At each body a pentagram was found burned into the floor beneath their beds with the words ‘The Urge’ written below.”
“The devil claiming his victims?” Miguel asked. His voice gave a slight stutter.
Dorn shrugged. “Like I said before: I’m not the superstitious type.”
“And your lover?”
“Gone” Dorn bent forward in his chair and rubbed his face with both hands. “At Brock’s burial Ellen placed a rose on his chest as he was lowered down. She was the last to touch the body.”
“When did she die?” Miguel was now fully invested.
“She- she didn’t. At least, we never found a body. One day she was just…gone.” By now Dorn had managed to produce a steady stream of tears to run down his face.
After a moment, a laugh could be heard coming from Andrew. Not a happy laugh, but one of derision. Mocking.
“The barkeeper speaks as though he had nothing to do with it!”
“Andrew!” Dorn chided
Miguel’s eyebrows rose at this as he turned to look at both Dorn and Andrew.
“My father always said you were doing the devils work! Curse you, Dorn! God will judge you. Eternal hell waits for your kind!”
Andrew stood rooted to the spot, shaking with fear and anger.
Miguel glanced between the two several times. Dorn never met Andrew’s glare.
“Andrew-“ Dorn began, but Miguel cut him off.
“Andrew” Miguel had not addressed him yet. Miguel stood and walked slowly towards the young man as he spoke. “If master Dorn here is truly doing the work of the evil one, would not you yourself be in peril just standing here? Why, who knows what satanic rituals and sacrifices have been made right where you stand!”
Andrew glanced at Miguel and then looked quickly around the room as if to find some evidence of that very evil in front of him.
Andrew looked back at Dorn and spat in his direction. “You'll answer to God, barkeeper.”
Andrew left and vowed then not to set foot in the tavern again.
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