E L S I E A R D E N

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This familiar, classic tune had sent the 1960’s out with nothing short of a daunting message. Currently, the starkly different, almost chipper beat accompanying the dark lyrics was spilling from an agape doorway out into the hallway of what one would assume to be an apartment complex with its identical entryways. It’s heavily worn carpeting, peeling paint, and occasional adornment of vulgar messages upon the walls in spray paint made it evident that care for the building was minimal at best.

Elsie swung her body about her new space with a haphazard grace, an oxymoron that could truly be used to describe her existence. She never seemed to leave the balls of her bare feet as she danced along to the song, a mug of warmth still clasped in her grasp. Waves of its dark contents threatened to escape over the edge with each abrupt turn, but to no attention of the girl. She slowed only with the final notes and unceremoniously dropped herself into an oversized armchair, its age disguised with a draped blanket.

She had finally done it. Her name was on the lease. A deposit was placed. This was entirely hers. She had long convinced herself that the apartment’s age and current state only added personality to her first home. The rent was more than affordable and the neighbors had been nothing but kind, offering her “tree” and “snow” on multiple occasions even just within these first days. Apparently hiking was extremely popular here. One had even invited her to join him as he left on a business venture across the country. He’d thought up the ingenious idea of door-to-door magazine sales. She’d have considered, but the lease was already signed and living in a vehicle had long lost its charm.

Curling her feet beneath her, Elsie drew in a deep breath and trapped the air in her lungs for a moment, as if refusing to let any of what she was feeling go. “This is good.”

The woman’s shift in weight as she adjusted in her chair had caught the remote control beneath her hip, flipping the television from music streaming to the local news. Diligent in her efforts to keep herself from being exposed to the more negative aspects of the town, she quickly moved to change it back. However, she halted as the reported mentioned Azure Lake.

The name sounded familiar and the photo seemingly floating beside the newscaster’s head was of a gorgeous scenic area, though it was now tainted with yellow crime scene tape. The realization came fairly quickly that this was the lake she had been camping beside for the past couple weeks, but the shock of hearing what had occurred there fell deep into her stomach before rising to lodge itself in her throat. They took his toes? The further revelation that she had been sleeping in the woods with a murderer sent her flying from her seat to throw her front door shut, latching it tightly.

He was a little early. This much was apparent as the chilled air swept over him. It wasn't as cold as the atmosphere outside, but the thermostat definitely seemed to be hovering around a lower setting, no doubt in preparation for all the body heat that would soon offset it once the place started to really come alive.

The establishment's patrons were starting to trickle in and Reno suspected, once it hit a certain hour, that the trickle would turn into a pour. In the meantime, he took in the view. Scantily clad employees wrapped in shiny, reflective garb... barbacks wiping down counter tops and rolling in kegs... the house sound engineer doing his audio tests. The show was about to truly go on soon and the players were busy getting to their marks.

It was something Reno always enjoyed seeing. The Before. Watching a group of people excitedly preparing for the nightly party usually filled the air with a tickle of anticipation. It was infectious and he, too, found himself eagerly awaiting what this place had to offer.

With a slow stroll, he walked toward the heart of the place; the bar. Already he could see an exquisite specimen of a woman conversing with a mountain of a man. Not wanting to impose, he drifted toward the opposite end, giving a crooked smile and a slight nod to anyone he passed in the process. He always considered it slightly rude not to at least acknowledge other people with whom you made eye contact.

With a small, relaxed sigh, his found his perch and rested his forearms on the counter top as his eyes drifted over the selection of bottles presented behind the bar. They fell on a particularly reputable brand of scotch and the silver haired man knew he'd found his drink for the night. As soon as the keep came around, he'd reserve the entire bottle.

As one of the shiny women passed hurriedly by him, he couldn't help but turn his head, taking in the full view of her, gravity and biology joining forces to create a bouncing visage of perfection as she continued on in the opposite direction.

"My, my," he said finally in a drawn out moan. With that, his slammed his fist down on the counter which erupted in a quick thud, his grin wide as ever. "I think I'm ready to get started," he exclaimed eagerly. "Oh, keeper of the liquid ambrosia," he called outward melodically to any ear that would hear it. "I am ready for immortality!"