Wrong Bar Right Time
I walked into The Rusty Spur at seven forty on a Friday night and I knew before the door closed behind me that something was off.
Bar stories, from quick reads to long series. Most bar stories here sit in erotic horror and erotic couplings. Reads run 16 to 25 minutes. Writers to know: Rain Vignette, Indigo Spiral and The Roan Poet. Readers usually start with “The Glove and the Gavel” and “The Grinder's Witness”. Ranked by how many readers finish them. Some are free to read in full; the rest open with a free preview.
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I walked into The Rusty Spur at seven forty on a Friday night and I knew before the door closed behind me that something was off.
My name is Morgan Griffin, I'm twenty-four years old, and until last Tuesday I would have told you I was a pretty easygoing person.
*This one came from the idea of intimacy being stolen by a witness you can't see.
The dinner had been a disaster, if you can call two people not talking a disaster.
I come through the kitchen door with the door swinging hard enough to bang the wall, and I don't even care.
The snow started coming down sideways around four, and by the time I pulled into the lot at The Cold Aisle my wipers had given up on doing…
The bell jar thing sounds fancy but it isn't.
I'd had a bad day, the kind of bad day where you lose a job you should've had locked down, and when I pushed open the door of the Copper…
Frances had been sitting at the Lucky Dog Bar for forty minutes, long enough for her beer to go flat, and she was still working on the…
I was forty minutes into my weekly Friday night beer when Grady Jenkin came shuffling over with that look on his face.
I'm Cathy, I'm forty-three, and I deliver packages for a living.
My name is Darrell Spock and I'm twenty-nine years old.
I wiped down the same four feet of bar for the fifth time that night.
Tuesday nights at The Rusty Tap are slow, and I like it that way.
The spine of that notebook went with a crack I felt in my wrist, a loud electric snap that rang off the teak ceiling of the old fish depot…
My dry spell had a birthday coming up.
The breakup was three weeks old when I finally walked into McGee's alone.
I turned sixty-two on a Tuesday, and I spent it at The Sump with Cade Griffin, same as I'd spent most of my good nights for the last…
The Tap and Rail closed at midnight on Fridays and Charlie let me sit while he counted the drawer.
I'm Piper Blackwood, twenty-eight, and I fix cars for a living.
Rain Vignette, Indigo Spiral, The Roan Poet, The Midnight Quota
Bar stories, from quick reads to long series.
Some stories are free to read in full, with no account. The rest open with a free preview; members read everything.
Most bar stories take 16 to 25 minutes, and the average is 20. Sort by shortest to start small, or follow a series to get each part as it lands.