Here’s the second part of the fictional story I’m writing. If you like psychological horror/mystery, maybe this one is for you!

Chapter 2: Oscar

Oscar lifted his glass and found it empty.

Just like the table.

“Can I get another one?” he asked, raising the glass toward the barmaid.

She nodded. Moments later she returned with another beer, setting it down in front of him while collecting the empty glasses.

Three had become one.

Oscar was alone.

“Your friends called it a night?” she asked.

Oscar leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head.

“They’ve gotten boring,” he said with a small smile. “Happens when people start taking life too seriously.”

She smiled as she turned away.

“And you’re what happens when people don’t?”

Oscar watched her walk back toward the counter. His eyes followed her red dress for a second longer than necessary.

The old Leon would’ve already been talking to her.

The thought crept in uninvited.

Leon always had that effect on women. Walk into any room or bar, say a couple of sentences, and suddenly he had everyone’s attention.

Oscar took a long drink. He was drunk, but not too drunk. Not according to himself.

He’d spent half his twenties trying to figure out how Leon did it so effortlessly.

Natural charm, maybe.

Or just luck.

He watched the barmaid again as she wiped down the counter.

Leon used to sit beside him in places like this all the time. Same bars, same music, the same drunken optimism that something interesting might happen before sunrise.

Then Leon met Sofia.

Funny how that changed things.

One random afternoon in a park and suddenly Leon had a home, a woman, a life that didn’t involve waking up in a stranger’s bed at noon wondering how he got there.

Oscar drank again.

Across the room the barmaid glanced his way.

“You look lonely over there,” she called. “Why don’t you come sit at the bar?”

Oscar didn’t hesitate.

He grabbed his half-full glass and walked over.

A rugged middle-aged man in a worn green jacket already sat at the counter, holding a short glass of what must’ve been whiskey.

The barmaid placed a coaster in front of Oscar and leaned against the bar.

“This is Martin,” she said, nodding toward the man. “Local expert on absolutely nothing.”

Martin lifted his glass slightly in greeting.

Oscar smiled.

“Perfect. I specialize in that myself.”

“Bourbon,” Martin muttered when Oscar nodded toward his glass.

“Where… are you from?”

“From the capital,” Oscar said. “Born and raised. My friends who left earlier are the same.”

“Hmrfh,” Martin grunted.

“Then I suppose you three must be feeling…”

He paused for a drink.

“…a bit like fish out of Stillwater.”

It took Oscar a moment to register it as a joke. Martin’s slow, somber tone confused him.

By the time he realized, he didn’t find it that funny.

But the barmaid, seeing his expression, started laughing.

So he laughed too.

“There’s no fish in that lake,” Martin said.

Oscar raised an eyebrow.

“Town tried stocking it once. Trout. Dozens of them.”

He took another slow drink.

“By morning they were all floating.”

“So if you’ve come here for fishing,” he added quietly, “you’d best head back to River’s End.”

“Martin! Don’t send my new customer away so soon.”

The barmaid smiled and turned toward Oscar.

“And no, they’re not here for fishing. I’m Mara, by the way.”

She reached out and shook his hand.

“Warmest welcome to our quaint little town.”

Mara opened a bottle of cider and joined them at the counter. The bar had quieted down enough that she no longer needed to be everywhere at once.

Oscar caught himself glancing at her often, taken by her beauty.

“So,” Martin said after a while, “what brings you three to Stillwater?”

“Reunion,” Oscar said. “We grew up together.”

Martin nodded slowly.

“Looked like a serious bunch.”

Oscar laughed.

“Just the other two.”

He took another drink.

“Leon used to be the fun one,” he added. “Before he met a girl.”

Mara leaned closer.

“What happened to her?”

“Life, I guess.”

Oscar thought about it for a moment.

“Haven’t gotten the full story. He’s hesitant to share it. But she blamed Leon for something. Something unforgivable.”

Martin sighed loudly.

“A tale as old as time… I’ve seen too many men fall for temptation.”

“No, it wasn’t like that,” Oscar said quickly. “He was devoted to her. Could never get him to stop talking about his damn Sofia.”

He took a breath.

“Someone close to her died. And she blamed Leon for it. Made that very clear to him.”

“And then she left.”

He stared into his beer.

“Doesn’t seem like she’s coming back.”

The room fell silent.

“Sebastian had it even worse,” Oscar continued, the alcohol doing most of the talking now.

“He always did everything right. School, career, marriage… the guy decided he wanted to become an auditor before he finished elementary school.”

Oscar shook his head.

Then he remembered the story he was telling.

“House fire.”

He swallowed.

“Wife. Daughter. Even his fucking dog.”

Oscar’s eyes watered slightly.

“He was on a business trip overseas when it happened. Learned about it when his plane landed.”

He stared at the counter.

“Everyone else rushed to get off the plane. He just sat there by the window.”

“They had to carry him out.”

Oscar finally looked up.

Mara was studying him intently, which made him uncomfortable.

To his right, Martin breathed heavily, staring down into the amber liquid in his glass.

Oscar hadn’t really considered how heavy those stories sounded out loud.

“What about you?” Mara asked.

Oscar blinked.

“What about me?”

“What did you lose?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Guess I’m the lucky one.”

Mara’s eyes lingered for a moment before softening.

“Your friends lost people,” she said quietly. “That’s obvious.”

“But loss doesn’t always mean someone died.”

Oscar shifted in his seat.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mara reached for her cider.

“Some people have lost things they never had.”

She took a slow drink.

The bar stayed quiet.

“That’s not really losing something… is it?”

Oscar was too drunk to decide whether what she had said made any sense.

“I’m just a guy in a bar having a few drinks,” he said.

“Maybe,” Mara replied.

Her eyes drifted toward the darkness outside the window.

“Stillwater has a way of bringing certain things to the surface.”

Oscar stared at her blankly.

“Well,” Mara said suddenly, her cheerful tone returning, “I think that about wraps up our lovely night together.”

“I got so caught up in our conversation that I forgot to watch the time. The bar usually closes by now.”

Oscar looked around.

Only him and Martin remained.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow,” Oscar said, smiling at her.

“I’m afraid I won’t be here tomorrow,” she replied. “I have an errand I must see to.”

Oscar’s heart sank.

“But I hope you and your friends enjoy your time in Stillwater.”

She paused.

“It’s an interesting… choice… for a reunion.”

Martin had already shuffled toward the door.

Mara gestured that Oscar should head out as well.

So he did.

---

The November night embraced him with cold arms.

The first snowfall couldn’t be far away.

Oscar swayed slightly as he walked through the quiet streets.

There was something strangely nostalgic about walking home drunk.

It reminded him of the good old days.

The days when no one cared if he partied every weekend.

When the boys met up and talked about women.

The good old days before—

Oscar stopped walking.

Mara’s words echoed in his mind.

Some people have lost things they never had.

He stood there for a moment, staring down the dark street.

He was already halfway back to the hotel.

But he didn’t want to go to bed yet.

There was one more thing he needed to do.

He turned around.

---

He knocked on the door.

No answer.

He knocked again.

The third time, just as he was about to knock again, the door opened.

Mara stood there, looking surprised.

“Can I come in?” Oscar asked.

“The bar is closed, we were just—”

“It’s important,” Oscar interrupted. “I need to ask you something.”

Mara stood there in the doorway.

“Ask away.”

“I’m going to the cave,” Oscar said. “I’ve decided.”

He met her eyes.

“But I don’t know where it is.”

Mara studied him for a moment.

“The cave,” she repeated quietly.

Oscar nodded.

“Yes.”

She stepped aside.

The bar was dim now. Only a single lamp above the counter remained lit, casting long shadows across the room.

Mara walked behind the bar and picked up the cider bottle again.

“You couldn’t stop thinking about it, huh?”

Oscar shrugged.

“I guess. Sounds more interesting than going to bed.”

Mara didn’t respond right away. She took a slow drink, then set the bottle down.

“If you’re serious,” she said, “you’ll want to head toward Crystal Lake.”

Oscar leaned on the counter.

“The lake?”

Mara nodded.

“The town sits southwest of it. The cave is somewhere along the western shore.”

She grabbed a napkin and a pen and sketched a quick map.

“There’s a road that curves around to the eastern side,” she said. “It’s a long walk though.”

“And I wouldn’t recommend cutting through the forest.”

She slid the napkin toward him.

“It’s not a place for a city boy.”

Oscar studied the rough lines.

“And the cave?”

Mara shrugged slightly.

“You’ll know it when you see it.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

For a moment neither of them spoke.

The bar felt strangely quiet with the town asleep outside.

Oscar noticed how close she was standing now. The faint smell of cider and something floral lingered in her hair.

She hadn’t pushed him out.

She had let him back in.

Maybe she liked him.

Or maybe he just wanted to believe that.

Oscar took a slow breath.

“You know,” he said softly, “you didn’t have to let me in.”

Mara tilted her head.

“You said it was important.”

Oscar smiled.

“It was.”

Before he could overthink it, he leaned forward and tried to kiss her.

Mara recoiled immediately.

Her hand pressed against his chest and pushed him back.

“Oscar.”

Her voice wasn’t angry.

Just firm.

“That’s not what this is.”

The warmth drained from his face.

“Oh.”

He stepped back, suddenly aware of the room again.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I just thought…”

He stopped himself.

“Never mind.”

Mara watched him quietly.

Oscar folded the napkin with the map.

“Well,” he said awkwardly, “thanks for the directions.”

He headed for the door.

“Good luck with the cave,” Mara said softly.

Oscar paused for half a second, but didn’t turn around.

Outside, the cold air hit him like a slap.

He shoved the napkin into his pocket and started walking toward the hotel.

Of course she pushed him away.

Why wouldn’t she?

Oscar laughed quietly to himself as he walked down the empty street.

Leon would’ve pulled that off without even trying.

Sebastian probably wouldn’t have tried at all.

Oscar kicked a loose stone along the road.

Story of his life.

He kept walking.

Somewhere out there, beyond the dark streets, the lake waited.

And the cave.

Oscar smiled faintly to himself.

Tomorrow would be interesting.