Why does O'Sullivan's password change every night based on events that haven't happened yet, and what's in those unmarked bottles behind the bar? Which patrons have been drinking here since Prohibition officially ended, and why do conversations stop whenever certain names are mentioned? What's behind that basement door marked 'Private Stock Only'?
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Roscoe was spiritually illegal, a bootlegger of the soul, a mythic creature made of words and wit and wild deeds and boundless memory.
William Kennedy, Roscoe
Welcome to O’Sullivan’s Speakeasy!
The speakeasy was supposed to be empty late at night, but when I arrived, I found the doors unlocked and lights still glowing within. Curiosity and more than a little trepidation compelled me to enter and take a look around.
What I found would haunt my dreams for nights to come. The main room where the jazz band usually played was silent, the stage dark and instruments stilled. But as my flashlight beam panned across the empty tables and bar, I saw streaks in the dust as if something—or someone—had recently dragged across the floor.
My heart pounding, I made my way to the VIP lounge, hoping for some rational explanation. But the plush couches and curtains did little to dispel the sense of lurking menace. On the lounge wall, a single word had been scrawled in what looked disturbingly like dried blood: “Run.”
Panic rising in my throat, I fled to the smaller casino area, searching for another soul. But all I found was an unnatural chill and the flickering glow of slot machines frozen in time. As I raised my light to the mirrored back wall, a glimpse in the dark glass stopped my breath: a gaunt figure standing just behind me.
I whipped around, but nothing was there. Shadows seemed to crowd the edges of my vision. Something was very wrong in O’Sullivan’s Speakeasy. As I bolted for the exit, abandoning flashlight and plans, I vowed never to return after dark. Whatever evil haunts this place of ill repute and past sins, I want no part of it. The speakeasy’s secrets are best left undisturbed.
