Poor Devil Saloon Novels & Stories

Inside the bar, it was scorching hot and very lively. The hotel owner approached warmly and asked, "Sir, what would you like to drink?" Nathan just remembered that he had become unemployed now, his salary was still unpaid by the Sanchez, and he had very little money left. He then ordered a bottle of cheap white liquor. "Er Guo Tou, the spicier the better." The boss looked somewhat disappointed: dressed so extravagantly, yet so poor that he could only afford to drink cheap liquor. "Sir, please find a seat." The boss's enthusiasm faded away as he turned around to attend to others.

She didn’t like the idea of any staff seeing it or tampering with it. “Okay, as far as I can gather from the spirit information, we received at the Coffee Shop. That spirit is active day and night. It appears as a male. Judgemental of what women wear. If they stay to eat or drink, then they can’t become surprised by this spirit will bother them if their hair is long and not pinned up. Short skirts and shorts get the same treatment. So, I feel he doesn’t like the modern dress.” “Well, the town’s records gave me something. The original building that stood there was a saloon and brothel. The spirit liked it there. I couldn’t find any murders there, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t one or two.

"I'm fine." "You're eating half a meat pie for lunch Leo." "I said I'm fine Junior." Junior pulled it back with a long sigh. He knew better than to push. Leo's pride was the one thing that years of poverty had not managed to strip from him and everybody at the yard knew to respect that boundary even when it was painful to watch.

“Didn’t you hear? He’s being sponsored by sugar mommies these days. Unfortunately, he could not adapt to the poor life after falling from grace. Hence, he hooked up with a few wealthy ladies.” Nora could not bear to listen ahead. The man had all the right cards in his hands, but he and his father played dirty. Putting him to the back of her mind, she interacted with the surrounding people. After she was tired, she went to the corner of the hall and took a seat at the bar. Just then, a figure came and sat across from her. “Sean,” Nora whispered. Sean nodded at her. “How are you, Nora?” Nora shook her head and gave a miserable smile.

The rain had soaked us through and I felt that it was going to be a miracle if we didn't catch a cold. I pushed open the door, a bell going off indicating to the occupants of the shop the arrival of the drenched newcomers. The inside of the shop looked surprisingly well kept with high backed chairs and tables strategically placed and I could spot a few loveseats by the glasses to most likely give couples a window view. The few occupants of the shop barely gave us a second glance as they continued to sip their teas and bask in their own worries. Why would the Devil bring me here?

I am the provider and she's the one who do all the chores in the house. But everything is different now. I'm all alone now. The lights were flickering when I entered the elevator. This building is old and needs a lot of repairs. This is the cheapest apartment in the center of Oklahoma. I'd rather stay here than pay more money on five star ones. "Anything else?" The old cashier lady asked. I shook my head and gave her the money. She put my cup noodles in the paper bag and give it to me. She was about to put the canned beer there too when I stopped her.

Before Zyla walked into our lives and stole him from me. Like she and her mum stole my dad, my house and my whole life. That's why I'm here at the club, hoping to drink away my sorrows — for the night at least — but Zyla still won't let me have that. I give one last glance to the text, before I exit the message and chuck my phone back into my bag. I can always reply later. He's probably busy having a good time with Zyla while I'm sweating it out here. “One glass of Mortzrelli, please.” I wave towards the bartender, who's currently flirting with some girl at the bar and forgetting he has a duty - serving drinks.

"Come on. Out of boredom if nothing else. I promise I'm much better company than four walls." I looked at him for a moment. Thought about the locked windows and the memorized floor plan and the note folded in my pocket. "Fine," I said. "Out of boredom.” I stated. Nah—I was only hoping I could at least see a chance to escape. He laughed — loud, genuine, completely unguarded. “I would love to show you most importantly, our little underground hotel” And there was something in his smile. Dark. Like he’d already imagined how this would end for me.

The creaking of the giant double doors sent a wave of fear through the chained-up man and gestured that it was a sign for him to stop what he was doing, but the fear quickly morphed into a burning rage. The doors swung open, revealing a man whose body is chiseled to perfection. His dark suit wrapped around his body, his green eyes devoid of emotion as he surveyed the scene. This was Lucien Belucci, the man known as the Devil’s Incarnate, the most infamous name in the mafia world dubbed devil’s incarnate for being cold, merciless, and having no regard for life. “I knew you’d betray me. Bastardo!” the chained-up man snarled in a thick Italian accent, the veins in his neck standing out in rage.