Joh John Guerrero: A Short Story

It was a loud bar, with loud people and loud interior design. Neon lit the place, dartboards with rusted darts embroidered with rust still stuck in the board hung on the dark walls. I walked in, and sat down. I ordered a drink and looked around. Same people, as always, due the the flamboyant style of the bar. It was a small village, almost barricaded and completely isolated from the rest of the world by the huge mountains formed by the crater that we inhabit. Some say the remains of the meteorite make you deranged, and act as such. Just common superstition, many jaded, weathered men tell tall tales of eerie experiences and of staring death boldly in the eye and laughing. This was Metoville. A sprawling collection of houses, a town hall, a fire and police department, and one supermarket. Population:757. …show more content…
He was a tall, lank, in his mid-fifties. We made small talk, chatting about work. He worked in a lab that dealt with behavioral medicine, probably the biggest industry our village had, if any. There were leaks and workers taking leave more than usual. After a while we left and walked down the cobblestone road, dimly lit by the occasional lamp. We talked casually more. When we reached my house, I bade him goodbye and shut the door. After entering my home, I undid the screens fastened in the window. Gone into the darkness, swallowed, enveloped in the smoky tendrils of blackness. Huh, I thought to myself, he must of walked