"Welcome to The Morgue. At 5 pm, we serve tea. In the evening, different drinks."
Kelly glanced at the barmaid. The nightclub, hosted in a deconsecrated church, was freezing cold, but the girl, ghastly pale with naked shoulders, seemed unaffected.
"It's midnight now."
"And that's champagne o'clock, sweety."
The girl poured and Kelly took a sip. It tasted like champagne, bubbles and everything. Only the colour wasn’t right. Carmine red.
"Where?"
"In Hell."
The barmaid's face became opalescent, her eyes glaring white. The flute morphed into a snarling serpent, fangs plunging into Kelly's wrist, blood-like tears on its snout.
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alt="Glow by Stephanie Shaw"
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>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Disgruntled by Jonathan Tolstedt"
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>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Fade to Grey by Kristin Lennox"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="In the Beginning by E.M. Eastick"
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>