Day 211

The pub was crowded and most surfaces were covered in that slight residue that
comes with years of use and misuse.
Alcohol is being slowly served the the few locals surrounding the bar, at least you
assume it is alcohol, the thick tarish liquid crawls out of its container at a mind
numbingly slow pace and yet... nobody seems to care.

You aren't sure how you came to be here, but you feel you cannot leave.
Not yet.

Something must happen first, something very important.
Something you should have remembered by now.

You ordered the same "drink" as everyone else and waited for it to be poured.
The other patrons ignore your presence, seemingly caught up in their own heads.
Or are they waiting for the same moment as you?

Time crawls as slowly as the assumed beverage you wait for.
You use the time-old social excuse of heading to the bathroom.
The door is rusty with age and requires a great deal of force to open.

Black, slimy footprints have left a trail on the floor leading to one cubicle.
You feel compelled to look.
This is the moment you have waited for.

Hesitantly, you pulled the door open, not prepared for what lay inside.
You aren't sure what caught your eyes first - the decaying torso that was propped
up against the cistern or the writhing flesh peering out from behind the cracking
wallpaper, glistening and... blinking?

As you stare, unable to move from your spot, the torso begins to move.
It writhes and eventually falls over, maggots spewing all over the floor.
You fall backwards in shock but you do not hit the floor.

You fall through the floor.

And everything fades away.

You awaken sitting in a dingy corner of the pub, black "drink" in hand.
There is nobody else there, even the barkeep has vanished.

The next thing you are aware of is the tar-like drink sluggishly slipping down your throat
and how the walls around you warp and twist as faces spasm into existence and fade twice
as fast.

They are flickering closer and closer to you.

You find yourself smiling back.