A dingy tavern nestled between stone walls is older than anyone alive. Soft guitar and flute music played as patrons spoke of world issues and comfort, knowing they couldn't be touched or harmed inside the stone fortress.
In the musty-smelling tavern, a lad and lass, all of eighteen years old, hold hands and whisper words of love while at the other end, old men whisper harshly, sometimes spitting out their thoughts as their woman folk urge them to settle a bit.
Candlelight dances as if keeping beat to the music, as the warm beer is served by a thick and friendly barmaid, another fixture in the fortress for too many years to know.
Seven days and nights passed, and the shelling finally stopped. The patrons walked up the stone stairs and slowly opened the steel door. The light blinded them at first, and all of them wished they had remained down those stairs, away from what would be embedded in their memories forever.
Today, many years later, the old stone tavern has become a tourist trap, just one more of many dotting the cobblestone streets of a land far away. Guided tours tell of patrons who held up in the tavern of stone walls, trying to drown out the noises of war above them.
Just over there, the tour guide said, sat two star-crossed lovers vowing to never leave each other. Down there, at the other end of the bar, was a small group of older men spitting out words of harshness as their wives begged them to settle a bit. And on the wall behind the bar, a picture of the barmaid holding up two large glasses of beer and a sign saying Welcome one and all.
As the tour ended and the stone tavern grew quiet, the fortress's spirits returned to claim their rightful places. The soft music of a flute and a guitar began to play as the two young lovers held hands, and the older men spit out their concerns that couldn't be heard behind the steel door of a stone fortress.
Mike 2025
No comments:
Post a Comment