Part 1.
He was devastated. He sat there alone at Bursley's, sipping on his pint. He could see the people around celebrating with big jugs of beer and enormous smiles on their faces. A group sitting at a table not far from him were reminiscing their previous Christmas and how they spiked this guy's drink before locking him in the women's washroom. Another group of two guys sitting a few yards on his left spoke of their encounter with the hookers, one of whom turned out to be...well, nevermind. He smirked. He tried to think of what he did for Christmas last year; Well, nothing different. He'd spent the night at Bursley's after he'd encountered sheer disappointment at Westminster Abbey. But what was he doing there? He didn't want to reawaken those memories. Capering back into reality, he finished the pint. "Give me the best you have. And make it a double", he told the bartender. "Rough night, eh?" he asked. "You bet", he said. Christmas was two hours away. He gulped the drink down and stormed out. Waddling through the streets of central London, he saw a couple making out towards his left. He walked a little faster. He hated Christmas. He hated this joyous air which filled the streets. Rejoicing it made him feel like he was a part of this colossal facade which sought no reality. By the time he reached Westminster Abbey, he could barely stand. The alcohol got the better of him. His head groggy, he looked up, beyond the 30-feet tall Christmas tree which was blazing with colours and Christmas decor, at the night sky filled with stars forming infinite constellations. He lost his will over his body, his head hit the ground. "At least I have you in my dreams", he muttered, and he passed out..
P.S. The next part shall be posted in two days.
He was devastated. He sat there alone at Bursley's, sipping on his pint. He could see the people around celebrating with big jugs of beer and enormous smiles on their faces. A group sitting at a table not far from him were reminiscing their previous Christmas and how they spiked this guy's drink before locking him in the women's washroom. Another group of two guys sitting a few yards on his left spoke of their encounter with the hookers, one of whom turned out to be...well, nevermind. He smirked. He tried to think of what he did for Christmas last year; Well, nothing different. He'd spent the night at Bursley's after he'd encountered sheer disappointment at Westminster Abbey. But what was he doing there? He didn't want to reawaken those memories. Capering back into reality, he finished the pint. "Give me the best you have. And make it a double", he told the bartender. "Rough night, eh?" he asked. "You bet", he said. Christmas was two hours away. He gulped the drink down and stormed out. Waddling through the streets of central London, he saw a couple making out towards his left. He walked a little faster. He hated Christmas. He hated this joyous air which filled the streets. Rejoicing it made him feel like he was a part of this colossal facade which sought no reality. By the time he reached Westminster Abbey, he could barely stand. The alcohol got the better of him. His head groggy, he looked up, beyond the 30-feet tall Christmas tree which was blazing with colours and Christmas decor, at the night sky filled with stars forming infinite constellations. He lost his will over his body, his head hit the ground. "At least I have you in my dreams", he muttered, and he passed out..
P.S. The next part shall be posted in two days.
No comments:
Post a Comment
If my neurons are drunk enough to make me write this post, they're definitely drunk enough to appreciate your criticism. Shoot.