Waning Moon Part Three

The distant sound of bottle glasses smashed against walls reverberated throughout the dim lighted back alley. Far away, sounds of dying, crazed, laughter traveled deep and far throughout the night. Small creatures squeaked and squealed as they made their way through the mass of trash bags and waste that were dropped every day, here and there, by the bars and stores that were working nearby.

A soft moonlight broke down from numerous clouds that were hanging high above the city. A few specks of white-blue light broke through the barricade of polluted clouds, sadly, the sky was far from being a starry one as the amount of light produced by modern cities blocked the majority of the stars natural luminescence.

Behind one of the doors that led to back alley, a few musical notes formed a broken-down melody that escaped to the enclosure of the bar it was coming from. Anybody with a semblance of musicality would have noticed the impactful emotions hidden inside the notes.

However, the tone of the instrument being played and the sloppy execution turned the sound into a grating and heavy atmosphere that basked in pure dissonance.

The musical medley continued for a few minutes, counting a long story that seemed to orchestrate the end of worlds. Despite the sloppiness of the play, the faces of those sitting inside the shabby-looking bar couldn't help but lit up from time to time. Soft and morose expression flashed on hard and grim faces that hardly portrayed any semblance of emotions.

Sometime the note would turn horrid and grating to the ear, before swiftly turning into heavenly dragons that narrated epic stories as they swam through the starry sky. The small waltz kept going on for a long period of time with the guitar taking the song through different styles and genres in one go.

The acrid smell of cold tobacco was suffused in every square inch of the old bar, the heavy smell of spilled liquor mixed with the numerous bodily fluids didn't seem to reject or bother any of the customers. The barely breathable air was mixed with the usual tension that existed in places like these, those that came here were rarely part of any high community. Hate and poverty was prevalent, kindness not that much the case.

The wood on the small scene that was installed in a dim lighted corner of the bar creaked and cracked several times due to the mold that had infested the old building. Even the bar counter where the drinks were served wasn't left untouched by the lack of maintenance in the place.

"You! Yeah, right there with your googly eyes! What are you looking at?" A menacing bark resounded as a thick hand slapped the wooden table facing him.

The menacing tone in the voice was somewhat muffled by the sound of the crying guitar. The sloppy notes accompanying the scene were fused with the constant brouhaha coming from the many customers that spend their night in the piss-poor establishment. The dry and grungy tone seemed to have been picked at random by the artist; however, it ended up blending perfectly with everything that was going on around him.

"Calm down Big Jo! The dude you're looking at is nearly half blind. Can't see nothin further than two feet in front of him." The broken-down sentence came out of a crooked set of cascading teeth. Every word threatened to make one of the yellowish dark teeth fall from their dried up gum.

"Chill out lads! Stop making a fuss over nothing…"

A round-faced waiter couldn't help but try to calm them as he dropped a few glasses on the table, the liquids from the beers spilled on the table but none of them seemed to care as they had at some point been all been absorbed by the melody that had suddenly stopped.

Then, after the grating silence produced by the parasitic noise coming from the overdriven amp that was installed on the scene. A sudden sharp noise spread over the silent bar. The silent figure that had been playing on the scene had suddenly fallen unconscious. His bearded face connecting directly with the wooden stool, causing a cascade of greasy hair to rise in the air for a split second.

A cacophony of sound spread from the electric guitar that was no longer being played. And the scene produced by the falling artist caused a brouhaha of laughter to spread all over the shabby-looking bar. Thick hands slapped tables to the points where cracks nearly appeared on the old wooden furniture.

"Old Tim really outdid himself again!"

"Cheers for our artistic drunkard!"

A few smiling faces nodded in unison, as they couldn't help but appreciate the entertainment the man named Timothy was delivering every time he played in the "Four Leafs". The artist was one of the regulars from the piss-poor bar, and the sole reason why they had installed a small scene for him was for the sake of paying his liquor and beer consumption with his musical play.

Starting the day where they had hit that sweet deal, Old Tim had ended up playing inside the Four Leafs every single night. Almost religiously and without missing a single opportunity to waste his mind and soul.

He usually started before midnight, kept plucking strings and hitting glasses until his body fell apart due to the ungodly alcohol consumption he was forcing into his system. The self-destructive habit didn't seem to bother any of the bar customers as they, too, were here to purge their souls in the same manner.

"Poor dude…"

"Dem melodies were kinda good…"

"Can't anybody help Tim stand up?"

"You there! Lift him up." Ordered a few with a menacing look on their grim faces.

A few kind hearted minds couldn't help but pity the poor soul that was lying on the dirty parquets that made out the dirty floor. His greasy beard had been colored with the strange mixture of alcohol and drugs his body was expelling from his pores. Before long, a small puddle of an acrid, yellowish, liquid had even spread all over his lower body.

However even with all that talk, all they did was throw a glance or two toward his unconscious figure. Stopping shortly when they heard the loud snoring sound that left the mouth of the man surnamed Old Tim. Before long, the majority of the customer ended up ignoring Old Tim as they only moved him into a quiet corner of the bar to clean the mess he had released.

"Fucking drunkard…" a sharp curse was released grudgingly by a waiter that had been tasked with the hard job of cleaning the bubbly mixture that had piled on the wooden parquet. His throat couldn't help but swell lightly, as even after dozens of years in the job the skinny waiter wasn't able to avoid releasing nauseating burps that mixed whatever swam in his intestines and stomach.

The night continued quietly, with fewer and fewer customers eyeing the unconscious man named Tim. By the time the moon had moved further through the dark night, the Four Leafs had finished serving their last customers. A few bikers that were going out gladly accepted the task of throwing the unconscious drunkard in the streets for a six-pack of refreshing beer.

They heartily grabbed the unconscious man, their prized intoxicating beverage in their arms as they left the dilapidated bar. They left from the door used by the waiters and workers of the bar that led them to a dirty back alley. And as if they were throwing garbage, they simply threw the unconscious Tim on a pile of garbage bags that was starting to form into a small tower.

"Sleep tight Old Tim." One of them couldn't help but blurt a joke as an unpleasant smirk appeared widely on his crooked jaw.

They, then, proceeded to swiftly leave from the smelly back alley and hoped on their bikes. Leaving the streets with grating laughter that reverberated through the calm night.

The man named Tim was left there, and the worst was that these kinds of events were far from being an exception as most of the places where Tim played ended up throwing him out like tonight's event.

Thankfully, the garbage bag his back was resting on didn't contain any glass or hard material as he lay there peacefully with a calm expression on his dirty face. His chest could be seen rising slowly, his reddened nose expelling a burning due to the alcohol being processed in his liver.

The few mice and rats that lived in the back alley didn't seem to mind his presence as a few squeaky creatures coursed between his legs, darting across his sleeping body. The unconscious man too didn't seem to react as it was only when the bar owner came out with large bags filled to the brim with empty bottles, ashes and cigarette buds, that he seemed to sense the presence of a man lying in the alley.

It was with groggy eyes that Tim's vision gazed at his surroundings. The dim lighted back alley caused his vision to turn hazy and unfocused, but after a few seconds, he swiftly recognized the place he had been sleeping on. The bar owner's rounded figure grunted as he dropped the bags right on the old dumpster.

"Oh!" exclaimed the big-bellied man as his thick arm reached toward his pockets. "Waking up already? How was your short dream sleeping beauty?"

He joked around with his hand mechanically taking out a cigarette packs from his vest's inner pocket. He swiftly put the bud on his lips, as he patted himself in search of a lighter.

"Never find one when you need it!" the Four Leafs' owner cursed grumpily before his eyes lit up when he finally felt the rectangular shaped lighter bulging in his back pocket.

A satisfied smile appeared on his hardened face. He couldn't help himself from greedily sucking on the cigarette he had just lit up, his face relaxing with the inhalation that coursed from his mouth to his lungs. His chest was soon filled with the harsh spicy smoke of burned tobacco, all the worries in his eyes instantly lessened.

Sadly, the sensation of appeasement soon disappeared as he couldn't help but look back at the awakening man named Tim.

"Y'want one?" the owner of the Four Leafs asked with the cigarette hanging on his thin lips. His thick arms dropped the cigarette pack made out of cardboard on the silent man surnamed Old Tim.

"How long are you going to keep going on like this dude…?"

"Tim?" once again, no answer was heard and only the metallic sound from the lighter reverberated quietly through the back alley. A long sigh escaped from the bar owner, his eyes couldn't help but warm up slightly as he couldn't help but pity the life of the man that was currently greedily sucking on his cigarettes.

The lack of answers didn't bother him, as he had been far too used to silent moments with the eccentric drunkard. However, it was obvious that tonight, he was looking for more than the sounds of Tim's smoking ritual.

A necessary conversation that the two men needed to share was the true reason behind the bar owner's presence. Although, he had been enjoying the cheap collaboration they had, Four Leaf's owner felt that it was for the better that they stopped their strange business contract.

"You can't live forever like this, right?"

"I mean, you don't make shit by playing here. And I don't think that getting paid in bottles is changing anything for you in the long run for you."

"Why don't you try and find yourself a better place to develop your talents? I know you are quite young, you don't look half bad under that greasy knotted hair and smelly beard."