Suspense Stories

Mark took a few steps back and gazed around at the buildings and stores on the street. He could tell it was late at night by the absence of traffic, the fact that the bulk of shops had their window guards pulled down and secured, and the rows of parked automobiles along the streets.



He said to himself, "Aha, now I know where I am." He recognised the familiar sign of a neighbourhood bar that he frequented as he looked at the neon signs that illuminated the walkway along with the street lights. He smiled as he remembered the sign. On his way home from the metro station, he passed by a convenience store a few of streets away from his apartment building. He wasn't a regular by any means, but he did take a break every now and then after a particularly arduous day on the job. He wasn't the only one. A wide variety of draught beers were available, and the cups were frosted, which enhanced the flavour of each drink.



This particular July evening, the pub's door was pushed open in an attempt to force some ventilation through the stagnant air around the booths and tables, but it failed miserably. Finding an empty seat at the end of the bar was important to him, as he didn't want any company or distractions while he was trying to figure out precisely why he had been out and about so late. That wasn't something he did on a regular basis; he generally went to bed after watching the nightly news.



When he came inside the bar, the bartender didn't even bother to glance at him, so he lifted his arm in an attempt to get his attention.



Why isn't he looking over here? It's not that dark in here, so what's the deal? Mark pondered his options. There had never been a time when the service had been this awful. No, not even when he'd arrived at the pub at peak hours on a Friday after work, when the place was jam-packed with customers. Tonight, there were just a few people in the bar, most of whom he believed were regulars, distributed about the area.