Creative Writing

As I look up from taking a sip of my beer I see this large shadow through the round cloudy window of the tattered wooden door. Not knowing who this mysterious shadow could be as it’s a Friday night the whole town should be in this pub right now as usual. The door creaks open and you could hear a pin drop as this awkward contrast of a large muscle ripped frame with a dainty young face enters. But there is something different about this dainty young face. It’s not bright and bubbly as a young face should be it is sad and hesitant to stop looking at the ground. His face is dead cold, no emotion showing. His god like body is almost bursting out of his grey singlet. The dog tags around his neck suggest he could kill you in more ways than one. The boxing kangaroo show he does call this country home but has clearly never been to this town of ours as there isn’t a tattoo parlor for miles.
Every eye in the room watches this man head down, shoulders slouched slowly walking towards the bar. The murmurs start coming from everywhere as he goes to sit down at an empty table by himself. He throws down beer after beer as if they were water. He has not said a word, nor made eye contact with anyone. As the only police officer in town walked over to the man he asked “what’s your name son?” the man didn’t reply, not even looking at the officer he just kept drinking his beer. The officer repeated the question.
“Archibald Hart.”
“You’re not from around here are you Mr. Hart?” questioned the officer.
“Does it look like I’m from around here” Archibald scoffed in a sarcastic tone.
“Well why the hell are you stepping foot in this little peaceful town of ours?” Demanded the officer.
“If I had a choice, I surely wouldn’t be here. But when your commanding officer tells you to go and live in some town you’ve never heard of, YOU DO IT!
As the officer walks away in disgust at the young man’s lack of respect, whispers begin again. It’s obvious that the solider can hear them all. He is...