martinlivings | Tuesday's Ten Minute Tale

Okay, here we go. Thanks to

shrydar for "henna" and

angriest for "mirrors".

"Untitled"
Martin Livings 1-4-2008

"Oi, Sean, why d'ye think they call this place Cork?" the drunken Dubliner asked loudly. The rest of the pub went very quiet.

"Liam, fer feck's sake..." his companion warned in a low voice.

Liam ignored his friend. "'Cause it keeps the piss in 'ere and out'f the rest'f Ireland!" he roared, and slammed his pint down on the dark wooden bar. "Ye get it?"

"Yeah yeah," Sean muttered, looking around the pub with worried eyes. The last thing he wanted was to get the living shit kicked out of him in County Cork. But it seemed Liam didn't have the same qualms. He tried to avoid the glares of the other people in the pub, looked instead at the ornate mirrors behind the bar. They were edged with engravings, runic writing and celtic designs. They must have cost a fortune.

"Ah, c'mon, it's just a feckin' joke," the drunken man laughed. He looked around the room, at the hostile faces now turned his way. "What's the matter, eh? Someone fart?"

A man sitting in the corner stood up, not quickly, but resolutely. He was huge, even compared to Liam, who'd played rugby for his school as a younger man. His face was a complex mesh of henna tattoos. He didn't look drunk. Just angry. He strode towards them, boots clunking on the floorboards. Apart from that, the pub was utterly silent. Even Liam had shut up, finally. About two damn minutes too late, in Sean's estimation.

"What was that ye said, lad?" the man rumbled. Liam looked up at him. Sean was still trying to look anywhere else. He looked at the mirrors again. Inside them, the mirror man was standing over the mirror Liam, while the mirror Sean looked worried.

"Uh, hey, I was just takin' the piss," Liam said, then flinched at the last word. Sean flinched too.

The tattooed man smiled, but there was no humour in it. "Boy, have ye ever looked at a bottle?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"Huh?" Liam didn't seem to understand. Sean was confused. He continued to watch the mirrors.

"Well, ye seem to know so much about corks, ye must know how they work." He reached over the bar and pulled down a bottle, then slammed it onto the bar directly in front of Liam. He and Sean both jumped.

"Y'see," the man continued, "ye're saying that this," and he gestured at the bottom of the bottle, "is us. But I think ye might've misunderstood. This," he gestured again, "is the rest of Ireland. And Cork's what keeps the piss out of here, not in. Understand?"

Liam nodded.

"Good," the man said. Then, without warning, he grabbed Liam by his shoulders and lifted him above his head, without any sign of effort. Liam yelped as he thrashed around in the air. Then the man hurled him over the bar, at the mirrors behind it.

Sean shrank into himself, prepared for the shattering of glass and bone. Instead, the mirrors rippled like water, and Liam fell through, vanished.

No, not vanished. In the mirror, Liam tumbled to the floor, then stood up. He looked confused. He turned to mirror Sean and said something. Sean automatically looked to his left, where his friend should have been, but there was nothing. He looked back to the mirror. Liam was stalking desperately around the pub now, trying to get people's attention. They all ignored him, unaware. Finally, he clambered over the bar and put his hands against the mirror, his face a picture of silent terror. He pounded his fists against the glass, to no avail.

Sean just watched, horrified, transfixed.

"And what about you, lad?" the man asked from his side. "You got anything smart to say about County Cork?"

Sean's eyes never left the mirror. "N... no," he stuttered, as he watched his friend try desperately to return to reality. Try and fail.

"Good. Now feck off home, Dubliner." The man returned to his seat.

Behind Liam, in the mirror, Sean saw other shapes, other people, people who weren't in the pub on this side of the glass. Spectral shapes, barely visible, moving forlornly amongst the chairs. He looked back to Liam, who was already starting to fade, his flesh turning to a pale mist. He opened his mouth in a silent scream.

"I'm sorry, Liam, you stupid git," Sean whispered, then turned and fled the pub. Deep in his head, he could still somehow hear that silent scream. He probably would for the rest of his life.