*This story is copyrighted Mostodd07 2019. It is a Halloween 2019 Contest story. Please vote if you enjoy it, but I'm more interested in your thoughts. If you would, feel free to leave a comment at the end. Thank you.*
Owen Collins grabbed Liam and Neal by the arms of their suits, pointing to the shadows.
"Black cat!" Owen stammered. "Huge...black...cat..."
The other two men stopped, looked, and laughed.
"You better get your eyes checked, Owen," Liam said. He was about seventy but wiry and pugnacious. Owen was not yet thirty-five. "There are three cats over there. Three! And not a one of them is black."
Owen's "black" cat slunk from the shadow. It was not black but a silver gray. Its long fluffy tail twitched twice, then stopped. Neon green eyes glared in the night before it darted again into the gloom. Two other cats followed the silver cat. One was a yellow tabby with white muzzle and blushing pink nose, the other was a reddish tabby with horizontal slits obscuring deep blue eyes. Both watched the three men, curious as to their destination.
Liam called out to the cats, "We're headed for Scruffy Duffy's pub. You're welcome to join us if you can scrounge up the cover charge."
Neal, in his sixties and heavier than his buddy Liam, guffawed like a braying mule. The three men continued their trek, past a lonely graveyard, an empty church, and several abandoned cottages.
The midnight Irish moon shone on a rough cobblestone pavement. Street lanterns, plentiful around Owen Collin's expensive hotel, had become scarce. He, Liam, and Neal were searching for Scruffy Duffy's, the establishment suggested by the fetching lass whom he had met in the hotel bar. His friends were looking to spend the evening with some beautiful Irish ladies they had met. Owen was more circumspect, but didn't want to leave his new friends alone in a strange city.
Clouds like abandoned sailing ships crossed the hazard-yellow moon. The ever-changing shadows on the pavement were sharp-edged and black. Cobwebs caught the mist, refracting moonlight. Further along the pavement, they heard the skittering of tiny claws on bricks and stones, probably rats.
Owen stumbled along with these two older lawyers, both boasting of their Irish heritage although they practiced law in Mendota, Illinois. As they traipsed on, the familiar urban surroundings grew more quaint. Everything looked less "big city" and more like a forgotten village. Time seemed to have retreated.
Liam grabbed Neal's jacket and spoke directly into his face. His drink-reddened face had turned ashen, and his eyes were wide and searching both sides of the street. "Did you hear that? That scream! That shriek!"
Neal laughed. "I heard nothing, you crazy old man."
Owen had to agree. "I didn't hear anything either, Liam. If you're growing anxious, perhaps we should head back."
Liam considered returning to the hotel. He straightened his suit and tie and his composure. "No. I'm eager to meet the bonny friends we made at the bar. Aren't you?"
Neal nodded vigorously. "You bet. Come on."
Owen heard the clatter and rumble of a coal-burning engine, although he did not see it. The sudden shriek of a steam whistle shredded his nerves. Neither Liam nor Neal reacted to the horrifying scream. Owen gathered himself, then shook it off. He was as jumpy as Liam.
They plodded on. The sweet promise of meeting the beautiful, fey women from the hotel bar drew them inexorably.
Neal suddenly stopped mid-stride. He turned his head, straining to listen. "There it is!" he said. "Now I hear it. What is that? It's a kind of keening or wailing, I think. My God! It's horrible."
Owen and Liam turned to each other. Owen cocked his head to listen, but he heard no wailing sound. The look on Liam face meant that Liam had not heard the keening, either.
"You're hallucinating, Neal," Liam said. "Come on. Just a few steps more and we'll be there."
Leaning on each other, encouraging each step, they continued. At the end of a shadowy, empty street, they saw warm lights and heard thumping music coming from an enchanting establishment.
"Who visits this pub?" Owen wondered. "Where do they get any customers? There's nothing around. I think we had better turn back."
Liam shook his head. "No, me boy. Look! Look! There she is, Scruffy Duffy's. Just like the ladies said. Come on. We'll down a pint or two and capture a tun of stories to tell when we get back."
Owen trailed the two men, worrying that he had entered the wastelands of a city he knew nothing about. Then he remembered the tall lady in silver gray from the hotel on near Jurys Inn and sighed.
She had perched alone at the hotel bar, trying to make eye contact with the patrons. The locals avoided her. Owen figured her for a high-priced call girl, one of at least seven in the bar that evening. Some of the more daring Illinois lawyers tried to chat her up, but were immediately shot down. She was waiting for someone special.
Owen's trip was a boondoggle, arranged by the Illinois Bar Association to allow their wealthier members to blow off steam. This "once-in-a-lifetime" adventure targeted the Auld Sod, Ireland, its green hills and copper-haired colleens, among other sights. Owen Collins was decidedly not one of the wealthier members of the bar, not since his divorce. Since losing his wife's affections, he suffered from a combination of melancholy and hopefulness. A trip to Ireland seemed the perfect tonic for a lawyer still trying to establish himself.
Owen had checked into an expensive hotel near Jurys Inn Dublin and was assigned a comfortable single room overlooking the street. The room reminded him of a hundred other hotel rooms he'd visited, so he wandered down to the bar in the lobby to mingle with the other lawyers and to meet some locals. Near midnight, he found himself sharing a table with two elderly lawyers with Irish names, Liam and Neal, who ordered the drinks and paid for them. Owen's only contribution was listening to their outlandish courtroom stories.
As Liam and Neal cackled and laughed at each other's stories, Owen scanned the bar area. His attention had been captured by a beautiful, dark-haired woman with china white skin. She was wrapped tightly in a silver gray dress that came to mid-thigh. It hugged her body closely as it struggled to flatten her ample breasts. The shape of her hips was clearly outlined. Her ass cheeks were pinched together. The dress was so snug that it seemed to squeeze the woman into a taller version of herself.
Toward midnight, Owen offered to buy Liam and Neal a round as an excuse to go to the bar. He ordered three pints. While they were being drawn, the tightly wrapped woman sidled up near him. Her dress left her slim white shoulders uncovered. She had perfect bone structure in her shoulders and collar bones. Her jet black hair slid sensuously along her shoulders. She smiled in a sly way that signaled adventure and her green eyes glistened. She wore no jewelry, which Owen thought unusual, but perhaps it was to prevent theft when she was alone with her John.
"Visiting Dublin long?" she asked with a musical Irish lilt.
"About a week."
"You should try our local pubs. Try Scuffy Duffy's on the north side of town. Me and my friends enjoy tippin' a few there when we're done workin'."
Owen's three pints came.
"Are you done with work soon, miss?" he asked, just to be polite.
When she laughed she lifted her head so he could see the laughter rippling in her long slender throat. She locked eyes with him. "Tell your friends. We'd love to see all three of you some night at the pub."
"Thank you for the info, miss." Owen turned to go back to the table. Her slender white hand rested on his forearm.
"We'll be there every night this week. Tonight would be a good beginning. Hopin' to see you soon."
