Paul had felt a moment of doubt as he walked slowly into the Raven Bar. The previous night felt unreal, like a fast fading dream. Yet he knows it was real enough, his body still aches. But, even so, could the Beast truly be here? And, even if he was, what could Paul do? His eyes blink, unaccustomed to the smoky, dark room and the flash of dancing lights.
The band throws a cacophony of sound out towards the crowd, like the crushing waves of the darkest storm. People dance and clap, their attentions focused upon the stage, caught up within the atmosphere that the band sweat to weave throughout the club.
Every night, down the Rue’d Auseil,
Every night, the music so unreal,
Secretly I worship the satyr man,
The crazy violin played by Erich Zann.
There had been no expense spared to make this first gig the most memorable event that they could conceive of. Behind them the costly, rented, projection screen twists with demonic images against backgrounds of disturbing clashing colours.
Paul looks across the crowded bar but can see nothing bar the throng of anonymity. There is nothing to do but bide his time, buy a drink and wait for the Devil to reveal himself. Surely this must be an ideal haunt, this unholy temple to a blind, diseased lord.
© 1990 & 2006 Andrew M Boylan
