The clock was well after twelve in Woodrow bay, Alaska, and in the worn down bar sat the outcasts

Authors Avatar by frejawilliams (student)

Sven EriksonsGymnasiet

IB Diploma Program

IB11 - English B HL

Freja Williams

The clock was well after twelve in Woodrow bay, Alaska, and in the worn down bar sat the outcasts, the rejects of society, drowning their lonesome sorrows that they had left in spirits and complete solitude. They sat in the dimmed down lights, while an old unknown band was playing on the jukebox, and all a cross the bar was a cloud of cigarette smoke, a mist that made its way around the foul minds, with a smell that clenched on to every piece of fabric that entered through the door. The bartender swept the table, not because of the old stains, but more of an ideal routine that he follows every night, a grim state of mind. The bartender had worked here for too long, he knows the customers like the back of his hand, he knows which ones are sociable and he knows which ones to just leave alone, some even avoid.

Join now!

But tonight was not an ordinary night at the Kings Head bar, a man unusually well dressed entered through the heavy green metal door. He wore a gray suit, one that you could clearly see was not bought in this town, he was an alien to these people, people that had never worn a suit in their lives, but spent their lives on fishing boats or working as lumberjacks. The man took off his jacket and threw it in one of the booths, and loosened his black tie, he went straight to the bar, ordered a whiskey, paid in ...

This is a preview of the whole essay