The Shining

Lloyd the Bartender

1927

Lloyd had spent years pouring drinks and cleaning glasses. Only, not for himself. He poured for those who stayed at the Overlook Hotel. He would quietly watch men and women falls into the clutches of alcoholism. Before Alcoholics Anonymous started handing out sobriety chips in 1947, men would carry sacred heart medallions from the church and drill small holes into the metal to represent the amount of years they were sober for. Lloyd had collected more of these than he could count. Lloyd had always gladly accommodated to the orders of "give me the hair of the dog that bit me".

"What will it be, sir?" Lloyd would ask.

The man would slump in the stool, and look up at the man with cloudy eyes. Lloyd knew this look all too well. They would trade their cherished token for a bottle, losing all the progress they made for months, years, decades even. Just one sip, and it's all gone.

Lloyd was a man of few words, but has always kept a keen ear towards the frustrations of his patrons. May it be family problems, women trouble, or issues with work, he always invoked his longtime favorite adages.

Lloyd was standing at the bar, whiping down the counter as he often did. His aging face bore a forced smile that didn't reflect in his eyes, and his recently dyed hair matched his tired brown eyes. He wore a dark burgundy jacket with red lining, along with a pristine white shirt and a sharp black bow tie. A man waltzed into the Gold Ballroom. Also known as the Colorado Lounge, it provided a space for guests so they could read or chat amongst themselves. It also was the room used for extravagant parties.

The freshly polished gold floor had always been original, and the walls were painted different shades of soft gold. The room was often dark due to the unlit chandeliers that hung on the ceiling and being clouded by cigarette smoke, and the shadows that were created caused a black contrast against the gold. Plushy vibrant red chairs tucked into scattered tables contrasted the gold in the room, and everyone was dressed in suits and flapper dresses. Glitz and glamour that was achieved through boldness, geometric designs, and sparkles.

A man stumbled into the room. He had a strong nose, a pale complexion, and a balding head, thinning his graying hair. His eyes were set on the bar. Once an alcoholic, and a man who desperately wanted a drink. The need was raging.

He slowly walked up to the bar and climbed up on the stool. Lloyd set his towel down on the lit bar counter and asked, "what will it be, sir?"

The man hesitated to answer. But finally, he said in a British accent, "bourbon on the rocks. Leave the bottle."

"Right away, sir."

He reached into his pocket while Lloyd was pouring his drink. He pulled out his wallet and took out some money, and his sacred heart medallion. He admired the number of holes he had drilled into it over his eight year sobriety. He blinked the tears out of his eyes and tried to run his fingers through his brown hair with a receding hairline. He worked so hard to get to where he was in his recovery. He carried it around with him as a constant reminder of his commitment to stay sober and clean.

He put both of them down on the counter and pushed it towards Lloyd. Lloyd pushed him his drink, and they traded. Lloyd pocketed the money and tossed the token into a bowl of other peoples failures, like it was worthless. It made the man's stomach turn and gave him a sour taste in his mouth. A taste that would be washed down with bourbon.

"Drink up, sir," Lloyd said with a tight smile. He rather enjoyed when recovering alcoholics came to his bar. Once they started drinking, they never stopped.

The man picked up the glass and brought it to his dry lips. After a brief moment, he set the glass down without touching a drop.

Lloyd's eyebrows came together and he asked, "what's wrong, sir?"

"You. You are what's wrong. You just let men come and waste everything they worked for so you can get a lousy buck." He grabbed the bottle and threw it as hard as he could. The glass hit the bottles behind the bar, and it broke the shelf. The bottles came tumbling down, smashing at Lloyd's feet.

"Calm down, sir, calm down," Lloyd said. Liquid was dripping from the back of the bar, and this incident grabbed the attention of the patrons around the ballroom. The band stopped playing their jazzy tune, and every eye was fixated on the bar and the fight that was about to commence.

"Calm down?! Calm down?!" The man shouted. He jumped over the counter and began grabbing bottles and smashing them in the ground. He grabbed a baseball bat that Lloyd had behind the bar for protection while Lloyd was reaching for it. Lloyd wasn't quick enough so he took his hand back. The man gripped the bat tightly and used it to completely destroy the bar.

The lights that lit up the bar smashed under the bat. Glass shattered, cutting up his knuckles but he didn't notice. He kept swinging, screaming at the world and Lloyd became the target of this rage. Lloyd tried to stop him, but the bat swung at the back of his head as hard as it could. Lloyd's face crashed into the counter, the crack of his neck snapped in harmony with the crack of the glass in the counter. He collapsed to the floor, and the man hit a few more bottles violently before he realized what he had done.

Shards of glass punctured Lloyd's skin, causing him to bleed. Dark blood seeped from the crack in his skull that pooled around his body. His neck was bent at an inhuman angle that could make even the strongest stomach turn. His eyes remained half open, but there was no life in them anymore. The man gasped and dropped the bat to the ground with a dull thud. Sticky sweat was dripping down his back, and all he could think was, what have I done?

"Call an ambulance!" A guest shouted, rushing from his comfortable red velvet couch to Lloyd. He put his hand on his neck to try to feel a pulse, but it was too late.

Lloyd died from blunt force trauma to the head, behind that bar he worked at for decades. However, this is not the last time Lloyd has been spotted.

Ever since that night, people have reported seeing Lloyd at the bar. Sometimes they will see him out of the corner of their eye, or some guests have full conversations with him. He is always seen at his bar, a familiar place that his soul will forever be attached to.