Nessie’s Demon

Occult fiction is described for works dealing with witchcraft, spiritualism, psychic phenomena, voodooism, etc., and for works dealing with the mysterious or secret knowledge and power supposedly attainable only through these and other magical or supernatural means. I wanted to use a story that I wrote over a year ago but it’s not on any of my USBs or my computer. A little heartbroken that I can’t find it but I’m going to do the best I can from memory. Who knows I may like this version better than the one I started. This is a long story but I edited a LOT out to shorten the length.

I karate chopped the alarm clock. I’m second guessing the loud and obnoxious tone I chose but whatever gets me out of bed. I rolled over and felt the warmth of Shamrock’s body. I had a wonderful pitbull that was loyal and kind but could also come to work with me. Her appearance of breed alone kept idiots from acting out. Owning a bar is fun and all and I do work at least once a week but there is one night a year that it’s mandatory for me to work. Mardi Gras has its origins, secret societies, and history but there is another realm that only a few know about and even less have experienced.

My feet hit the wood floor of my plantation home that was passed down through the family. It was a bed and breakfast for a decade until my family came to own the bar that is now our source of income. It was 2pm which gave me plenty of time to shower, dress, eat, and get to work to set up. You would think that I need to set up the bar but no that’s why I have employees to do the work. I have to set up for the demonic entity that comes every 75 years to win back the gate that he lost during a bet.

My great great grandmother ran the bed and breakfast. She decided to go to town with my great great grandfather to enjoy the festivities, food, and grab a drink. We weren’t a religious family and that was acceptable in New Orleans. They walked into the bar when a demon and the bar owner were in the middle of settling terms to a bet. My grandmother was the winning part of the bet on the bar owner’s behalf. Everyone else saw a beautiful, young, dark-haired man when my grandmother saw the demon for who it was. The demon had bet the bar owner that if no one comes in and can see his true demonic form that it would win the bar back and would be able to trap souls again. If a person was able to come in and see it for what the demon was he couldn’t come back to the bar for 75 years. My grandmother walked in, seen him, and saved the night.

Over the next 10 years, the bar owner explained what needed to happen to keep the bar patrons and New Orleans safe. When the bar owner got sick in old age the owner asked my grandmother to take over. Over the years through Mardi Gras, my grandmother made the necessary preparations to keep the demon at bay and passed the cursed story through generations to come. So here I am, getting ready for the 75th year reunion. I wasn’t nervous because I have the same sight as my grandmother. I got dressed, had my black coffee and over easy eggs with toast, grabbed the apples and candles then headed to work. I only had one other bartender working with me, my brother. He was already there making sure the corner of the bar was reserved for our special guest.

‘Hey Nessie, got your rest?’ I smiled at J.T. as Shamrock went prancing ahead of me to greet her human uncle. ‘Hey Shammy, you keeping mommy on schedule? It’s a major night tonight. Y’all ready?’
I tossed the apples on the bar, ‘Afternoon J.T., did you remember grandfather’s engraved bar stool? And the iron shavings?’ I asked getting the masks set up by the door.
‘All set, the demon’s spot is set up at the end of the bar. The barstool has a circle of iron shavings around it and the bottle of absinthe is ready with the silver lined shot glass.’

The masks were to hide the identity of whoever may see the demonic form. We wish to keep the bar in the family as we now don’t want to burden anyone else with this responsibility. The barstool is for demonic being and is engraved with a binding spell to keep him from renigging on his end and confined to the stool which is why there will be a circle of iron shavings to work as a boundary. The apples represent knowledge and they are cut to reveal the star shape created by the seeds. This is to envoke a new seer. The silver lined shot glass and absinthe is to bind the demon’s tongue from cursing anyone. The silver makes the alcohol look more appealing no matter what it is.

J.T., Shamrock, and I were behind the bar serving customers and making sure that all of our patrons are adhering to the, ‘no mask, no service,’ rule. The music was great and so far no bar fights or arguments. When the clock struck twelve the door flew open. Everyone saw a beautiful young woman walk in when J.T. and I saw the demon. Shamrock warned us by sounding her low deep growl. It strolled over to it’s designated barstool thanks to the shiny shot glass. Once it seated it howled but everyone else heard laughter.
‘Hello, Nessie. I’ve been waiting to meet you. I see your family has prepared you well,’ the entity said as it downed the liquid revealing a realizing what it had done. An evil eye landed on Nessie and her brother.
‘Realizing  I don’t have to go into details about the bet, the only thing that will stand in the way of me coming back into ownership and opening the gate to let more demons through to this world. So, it goes without saying, let an innocent see me for what I am I go back to hell for 75 years if no one sees me then the bar and gate are mines.’ I smiled realizing the bet was already won. I always prided myself on how clever I was with bets and all. There is a reason I never married and had kids. A reason why I wasn’t considered spoiled.

The evening was successful. The demonic was hit on by several young men but everyone had on masks so they were safe. Bar time came and everyone left. J.T. smiled as he cleaned up the mess and starting stocking the back bar.
‘I won! I won! I knew this day would come. Nessie, give me the key and I’ll let you leave without any harm being done to your family and mutt,’ the demon said with a sneer revealing several rows of sharp teeth. I patted Shamrock on the head as she stayed by my side.
‘You didn’t win the bet or your bar back. The bet is, that an innocent needs to come in and see you for what you really are. Well, sorry to disappoint you but this isn’t your bar. You lost the minute you came in.’ The smile started to fade slowly.
‘An innocent was already in the bar and already seen your true identity through the floozy facade. Me, I’m still a virgin so it’s mine and my families for the next 75 years.’ His grin reappeared.
‘I can bide my time for another 75 years. The cleverness backfired on you. You’re getting too old to have your own children and with your families line ending with you, the only hope that you have is that an innocent walks into the bar.’ He said while he started to vaporized from his hoofs slowly moving up.’
I smiled, ‘Oh demon. You aren’t clever at all, just evil. I expected more from you as an adversary. Have you met my brother J.T.? No, I guess you haven’t since you’ve been dealing with me the entire night.’ The demon shot an evil look over at my brother who just waved.’
‘You see, I may not have any children of my own but I make a wonderful aunt to 6 beautiful boys and girls. All of which have the sight and are being raised with a family bedtime story. When they are old enough they will learn the truth. So, good luck ever getting this place back. ‘Sometimes a person’s sacrifice isn’t really one at all, just a different path in life for the greater good.’ Those were the last words I said as the demon finished vanishing to the underworld.


I have to do this now for reasons I’m not going into. 

From a Bartender to Their Patrons:

I wrote this really quick for my customers at the bar. There is more I wanted to expand on but needed to keep it a decent length. This was a writing exercise card from boot camp.

When you come in we are excited to see you and genuinely interested in your day or week as ours aren’t that glamorous. When you need a shoulder, friend, advice, an ear to listen, to sit in peace, medical assistance, mother, sister, brother, father, or a genuine person to spend a couple of drinks with-we’re gladly there.

We hurt when you’re hurting and will cry with you. We’ll be strong for you when no one else can be. We will protect you from harm whether it be from another patron or yourself. We love seeing your kids and grand kids grow (fur babies too). And worry when we don’t see you. We’re proud of your accomplishments however big or small. Your stories both good and bad are always welcomed.

Why you may ask? You, a stranger in the beginning, has touched our families and us in ways you can never imagine. You’ve helped us put food on our tables, roofs over our heads, gas in our vehicles. Birthday gifts for our little ones, school instruments that nourish our kids dreams of the future musician. Strength to get through the day through your advice and stories. Shoes on a little one’s feet during a growth spurt. Courage to follow our passions. You’ve taught us humility, loving another human beyond our own blood, acceptance of faults, and sense of community. There’s so much that we have learned and come to love and appreciate about you, more than a patron. A friend.

So thank you for coming to your local bar, from a bartender to a patron.

Ugh....I need to really crack down on my writing! I sound like a juvenile! 

May 6th 2017

High ‘Meat’ Hopes

Talk about commitment! It’s nothing new that I work two jobs and love tending bar more than my day job. I went to school after being a stay at home mom for more than ten years. I finally divorced and married a man that told meo follow my dreams which was going to college. I went into a creative field because I loved drawing. I don’t regret my college, I only regret where I landed. That’s all besides the point. The bar that I call home (because every bar tender has one) is a small town beer and shot bar. This is where everyone knows everyone, fresh eggs are sold, people catch up on news and gossip, and where you can find help whether or not your looking for it or needing it.

Now the owner of this bar passed away a couple of years ago and his brother is in charge of the estate because there wasn’t a will left. The sisters of the brothers seem to be receiving not so good advice and wants to sell ASAP when the brother wants to keep his brothers dream and memory alive. He was a man that would give the shirt off his back for anyone and loved animals so his brother really wants to keep the bar. No surprise that during the winter months here in Wisconsin the bar business is well…slow. Obviously when we are slow there isn’t much money coming in. My home goes up for sale. After much crying, worrying, and panic attacks, I was told that the liquor license was renewed!

Both my manager and I were told that we need to come up with ideas to bring money into the bar. I immediately sprang into action. I decided  that we would take part in the northern tradition of meat raffles. This bar has NEVER had one. After closing the bar last night only to wake a few hours later to have breakfast with my family and our usual trip to Barnes and Noble, I went shopping for meat. Traveling an hour to purchase good quality meat at sale prices my anxiety set in. Negative thoughts of: Will there be enough meat? Will people show up? Am I even fucking doing this right?, ALL reeled in my head. I wasn’t going to let self doubt creep into the crevices of my soul. I only went over my $100 budget by $30 and ended up with a great lot of meat! I was eager to see my managers face when I brought the meat into the bar. Her face reassured me that I was on the right track!

So-wish us luck that the meat raffle is a hit and will help bring in business. I’ll let y’all know about it as I sit here the bar in case backup is needed for our first ever Kentucky Derby party.


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