Dyre is the smallest village you can imagine. It’s somewhere north of Central Europe, but if you ask someone from Dyre, they’ll tell you it’s in the middle of nowhere. And they’d be pretty right about it.
Usually not a lot of people pass through Dyre and those that do are here only because they lost their way and need shelter for the night. The people here have learned to keep to themselves, though they would gladly point you to The Soul Cage.
The Soul Cage is the only place you can go for a drink, or look for shelter in Dyre. It’s one of those really small pubs that you overlook on a Friday night in the city, the one that looks cheap and half-empty, with a bartender that’s lazily smoking a cigarette behind the bar and a waitress wiping the glasses with just as much enthusiasm. But when that’s the only place you can have fun at, you learn to live with it.
People say strangers don’t last long in Dyre because it’s too small and too quiet for them. You have to be born in Dyre to like Dyre, they say. And maybe they’re right. First time I set foot in Dyre was maybe 6 years ago. I had heard stories about this place, how strangers who come by it never leave and I decided to head there. I also needed a rest from all the noise of the city.
At first the quietness and peace crushed me and I thought I’d go mad if I don’t go to a very loud and extremely packed place within the next hour, but then the people pointed me to The Soul Cage. After the first drink it seemed like Dyre had been my home my whole life and I never wanted to go away from here.
Now, The Soul Cage is no ordinary bar. The owner is a man, about 50 years old, who seems interested in every little detail you’re willing to share with him over a drink, or two… or more. First night at The Soul Cage, I noticed how many bottles the bar had, most of them with handwritten labels and half, or completely empty. I remember asking the owner about those bottles and he explained that every person who came through Dyre later sent him a bottle of liquor from his or her home country. He kept the empty ones as souvenirs to show off the friends Dyre had around the world. It didn’t hit me as strange back then that there were bottles with labels with years so far back, it made me wonder was that country even established back then.
That first night I got pretty tipsy from a very old and very special whiskey the bartender offered and headed back to my room. By the time I took my clothes off my head was insanely hazed by the alcohol. I dropped in bed, staring at the empty ceiling, trying to steady the spinning pictures. When I finally fell asleep, I had the weirdest dream – I dreamt of an oddly dressed man, who told me how once, many years ago, he came to Dyre and, much like me, headed to The Soul Cage. He spent the whole night there, drinking from a bottle and feeling like with every sip he left a tiny piece of himself in the bottle. He told me the bottle was labeled “Argentina Special” and was the best thing he had ever tasted. He then thanked me and disappeared, as I opened my eyes and blinked against the bright sunlight coming in from my window directly on my face.
I went about my day and when everything else in Dyre closed up, I headed to The Soul Cage. I drank again, I talked with people, I played cards with some, chess with others, we discussed books and in the end I left as tipsy as the night before. And again by the time I was in bed my head was completely hazed. I dreamt of a woman this time and she told me almost the same things as the man did, thanked me in the end and disappeared with the first rays of sun.
I don’t get easily scared, but those dreams certainly had to mean something. I decided that this would be my last night in The Soul Cage, my last night in Dyre.
When I entered the bar that night everyone greeted me with smiles on their faces. I noticed there were a few tables with bottles and glasses on them, but no one was sitting there. I also noticed a guy in a black leather jacket sitting at the bar, sipping his poison while chatting with the bartender. He must be new. Everyone knew everyone in Dyre and I had never seen him. Heading for the bar, I said to myself I shouldn’t drink so much tonight, yet I gladly took the glass the owner gave me. Just as I was about to sit down when he pointed me to one of the empty tables and said tonight he had the whole table for me.
I reluctantly sat on the empty table, shooting down my drink with my eyes closed and when I opened them I saw the man and the woman from my dreams, sitting next to me, drinking and chatting. I must have looked confused, because they both laughed when they noticed me.
They both whispered a quiet welcome, then poured me a drink. ‘We’re your only companions’, they said smiling. Then the woman explained to me how she came to Dyre many years ago and drank at the bar and never left Dyre. She said she drank until her soul poured into the bottle. And then she disappeared. Then came a man, who drank from her bottle, the one labeled “Argentina Special”, and he poured his soul into it, freeing the woman’s. Just then I realized that bottle I drank from was that same bottle. I had freed his soul and poured mine into it. That’s why the bar was called The Soul Cage.
You came here a few days ago, I saw you. You sat on the bar, enjoying a sip of wine. You noticed the empty tables with the glasses and bottles on them, but you never asked. When told to sit there, you obeyed. And now you’re one of us. Trapped in the soul cage, in one of the countless bottles behind the counter, waiting for someone to set you free.
So tell me, do you like Dyre?
Do you like The Soul Cage?
Replica
10.07.2011
Usually not a lot of people pass through Dyre and those that do are here only because they lost their way and need shelter for the night. The people here have learned to keep to themselves, though they would gladly point you to The Soul Cage.
The Soul Cage is the only place you can go for a drink, or look for shelter in Dyre. It’s one of those really small pubs that you overlook on a Friday night in the city, the one that looks cheap and half-empty, with a bartender that’s lazily smoking a cigarette behind the bar and a waitress wiping the glasses with just as much enthusiasm. But when that’s the only place you can have fun at, you learn to live with it.
People say strangers don’t last long in Dyre because it’s too small and too quiet for them. You have to be born in Dyre to like Dyre, they say. And maybe they’re right. First time I set foot in Dyre was maybe 6 years ago. I had heard stories about this place, how strangers who come by it never leave and I decided to head there. I also needed a rest from all the noise of the city.
At first the quietness and peace crushed me and I thought I’d go mad if I don’t go to a very loud and extremely packed place within the next hour, but then the people pointed me to The Soul Cage. After the first drink it seemed like Dyre had been my home my whole life and I never wanted to go away from here.
Now, The Soul Cage is no ordinary bar. The owner is a man, about 50 years old, who seems interested in every little detail you’re willing to share with him over a drink, or two… or more. First night at The Soul Cage, I noticed how many bottles the bar had, most of them with handwritten labels and half, or completely empty. I remember asking the owner about those bottles and he explained that every person who came through Dyre later sent him a bottle of liquor from his or her home country. He kept the empty ones as souvenirs to show off the friends Dyre had around the world. It didn’t hit me as strange back then that there were bottles with labels with years so far back, it made me wonder was that country even established back then.
That first night I got pretty tipsy from a very old and very special whiskey the bartender offered and headed back to my room. By the time I took my clothes off my head was insanely hazed by the alcohol. I dropped in bed, staring at the empty ceiling, trying to steady the spinning pictures. When I finally fell asleep, I had the weirdest dream – I dreamt of an oddly dressed man, who told me how once, many years ago, he came to Dyre and, much like me, headed to The Soul Cage. He spent the whole night there, drinking from a bottle and feeling like with every sip he left a tiny piece of himself in the bottle. He told me the bottle was labeled “Argentina Special” and was the best thing he had ever tasted. He then thanked me and disappeared, as I opened my eyes and blinked against the bright sunlight coming in from my window directly on my face.
I went about my day and when everything else in Dyre closed up, I headed to The Soul Cage. I drank again, I talked with people, I played cards with some, chess with others, we discussed books and in the end I left as tipsy as the night before. And again by the time I was in bed my head was completely hazed. I dreamt of a woman this time and she told me almost the same things as the man did, thanked me in the end and disappeared with the first rays of sun.
I don’t get easily scared, but those dreams certainly had to mean something. I decided that this would be my last night in The Soul Cage, my last night in Dyre.
When I entered the bar that night everyone greeted me with smiles on their faces. I noticed there were a few tables with bottles and glasses on them, but no one was sitting there. I also noticed a guy in a black leather jacket sitting at the bar, sipping his poison while chatting with the bartender. He must be new. Everyone knew everyone in Dyre and I had never seen him. Heading for the bar, I said to myself I shouldn’t drink so much tonight, yet I gladly took the glass the owner gave me. Just as I was about to sit down when he pointed me to one of the empty tables and said tonight he had the whole table for me.
I reluctantly sat on the empty table, shooting down my drink with my eyes closed and when I opened them I saw the man and the woman from my dreams, sitting next to me, drinking and chatting. I must have looked confused, because they both laughed when they noticed me.
They both whispered a quiet welcome, then poured me a drink. ‘We’re your only companions’, they said smiling. Then the woman explained to me how she came to Dyre many years ago and drank at the bar and never left Dyre. She said she drank until her soul poured into the bottle. And then she disappeared. Then came a man, who drank from her bottle, the one labeled “Argentina Special”, and he poured his soul into it, freeing the woman’s. Just then I realized that bottle I drank from was that same bottle. I had freed his soul and poured mine into it. That’s why the bar was called The Soul Cage.
You came here a few days ago, I saw you. You sat on the bar, enjoying a sip of wine. You noticed the empty tables with the glasses and bottles on them, but you never asked. When told to sit there, you obeyed. And now you’re one of us. Trapped in the soul cage, in one of the countless bottles behind the counter, waiting for someone to set you free.
So tell me, do you like Dyre?
Do you like The Soul Cage?
Replica
10.07.2011
Comments
I wanna know, how much about yourself you usually put in those words of yours, if you think is too personal to say, please, forget i asked this.
Sorry for my english and thanks again for such pleasant words, i do enjoy reading them because i always fell that at least one phrase is related with my life, and it makes me wonder a lot haha.
I usually pour my emotions into writings, so everything is pretty personal. :)