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Red Deer Reality Rant #31 - Story: A Hallowe'en Reprisal

This is a work of fiction. A scary Halloween story if you will, depending upon your perspective. Inspired by true events, all resemblance to persons living or dead may or may not be coincidental. Enjoy responsibly.

The Spotted Cask was a dismal dingy place, but the two friends being a little bit dismal themselves, decided to check it out for a few drinks and experience the local music fare. Little did they know what was in store for them on the fine October eve, a spooky one even by their standards, but fair enough weather at least.

Upon walking in, they were not greeted nor did they expect to be. They were locals themselves, but they are the type that everyone looks sideways at and gives a wide berth. Sitting down, they wondered to themselves if they should even be there, but no matter, they were just there to have a good time and a few drinks.

The drinks were good, mixed fairly to order. The two friends sat back and observed the spectacle. The local bar band was set to play some classic tunes and most of the patrons were dressed to fit the occasion. As they watched and waited for the music to start, they noticed a strange vibe in the air. There were several empty tables all around them and only the waitress had spoken to them.

Going outside to get some less than fresh air, the more dismally exotic of the two friends had a bit of a chat with the owner of the place. He spoke of the usual things, and remarked upon the fancy attire that she was wearing. Not used to having people strike up a conversation with her, she likely came off as being more bizarre than she really was. She thought that she heard a bit of music coming from inside, so she went back in to her seat.

She was not prepared for the sight that met her eyes, and gawked in disbelief. The band had taken the stage but they were a motley crew of the Red Deer sort. Not at all the famous musicians Motley Crüe, the band upon the Spotted Cask stage were far scarier. Something terrible had happened to them, they sniffed and snorted and staggered about bleary eyed. The long haired guitarist seemed to be in the worst shape, a veritable zombie he was.

They began to play a cacophonous melody of classic rock music, but it was obviously inspired by their sorry sordid state of being and the two friends looked upon them with pity that was mixed with horror. The singer wailed and bellered, the bassist strummed forlornly, one guitarist didn’t seem to know where he was while the other wailed along with the singer. The keyboardist seemed to be hopped up on glue.

Despite all of this, the music pouring from the stage did sound like it was supposed to but the two friends just couldn’t believe their eyes. How could these psychotic zombies even function? The two friends conferred but couldn’t decide if the band were simply not human, reanimated corpses, or just extremely high on the worst drugs in town.

“This party is crazy!” the one friend exclaimed to the other over the din. “Let’s get out of here!” said the other. So they left, and thus escaped the nightmare scene. Which in reality, really was dying, and not just because of the zombies.


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