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The Rat Catcher's Revenge- Creative Writing

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It all started at the old pub belonging to Jack Martin. The Jokers pub

has been empty for more than two years, there is stood faded and

detached, away from the lights and next to a canal. Its gloom was

added by foliage gone wild. A few windows had been shattered and its

once open doors were now boarded by rotting timbers covered in rolls

of moss and unsuspecting fungi. The undergrowth was tall and trees hid

the upper floor. Inside hung tattered curtains stained with years of

tobacco smoke.

An equally worn patterned carpet was partially covering the lounge bar

floor. A couple of chairs were stacked in the corners; they were

covered in the same vinyl fabrics as used in the fifties. The mahogany

bar where Jack stood broad to serve his customers still held its

character although was without liquor and glasses. Just dust and an

odd broken ashtray remained.

Rumour had it that Jack Martin slowly drank himself to death. Anyone

who knew him spoke of his huge character, his dirty jokes, the sly

wink and the ability to drink whisky with his cronies all night and

still arise to open the bar the next day. ‘Full of life’ he was known

as.

In the pub more than just drinking happened. Card tables for illegal

poker were notorious and many a fight had taken place for reasons too

grim to discuss.

It was the only place for me to go that I could forget my mundane day.

After all I needed the odd smoke after a day with the odd bunch at the

factory. I liked to go to the pub and imagine the scenes of the men

drinking. I sometimes even took a small bottle of scotch on a Friday,

which was my treat.

My visits first began when I found an...

... middle of paper ...

...his was your domain, but not anymore.

They may have buried me in fifty-six but the balance of power I now

own.

The voice came from a misty figure. I shook, I trembled, my secret was

not my own.

“Yes my dear friend Jack, or should I call you Jon? Take a deep

breath, there’s no more breaths in for me. Yes you may have enjoyed

spending my money when you cheated at the poker games, but I now have

the power. The shockingly, horribly sudden power too find you and pay

you back for your dirty tricks. I knew it was you Jack, when you had

to put that old fiver back into your wallet.”

Then came deathly silence, the figured drifted upwards but hovered. I

was paralysed with terror. My human blood ran cold for I knew in my

heart this was only the beginning. The beginning of a gruesome

revenge.

Or was it surreal?
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