Last Call
I worked as a bar manager at a sports bar in Tampa, Florida.I follow the Goth lifestyle.
At 2:00 a.m. I cashed out the servers and sent them home and closed down the kitchen.
The bar itself closed at 3:00 a.m., but my last few barflies stumbled out before 2:30 a.m.
I closed out the credit cards, counted the register, abused my free credits on the jukebox, and sat down to wait out the clock.
At about 2:50 a.m., a couple walked in.
I told them it was the last call and cash only at this point, and locked the doors behind them, not even really paying attention to them.
Rude, I know, but after 12 hours, give me a break.
When I did notice them, I began to feel uneasy.
Neither one of them sat down on the stools in front of the bar.
They each ordered a non alcoholic beer, and then just stood there holding their drinks, about 2 stools apart.
Then I noticed how they were dressed.
The man, who appeared older than the woman, maybe about 40ish, wore a black double breasted suit of an outdated cut.
I'd say maybe 1950s style, with a rumpled black shirt and a crooked black tie.
I'd say he was about 5' 9" with a thin build.
He had incredibly pale skin that showed blue veins underneath.
I had turned on all of the house lights by this point, so they stood out in stark contrast.
A very high forehead, prominent cheekbones, and deep set, large, brilliant blue eyes, possibly the most vibrant blue I have ever seen.
He had thin, dry, unhealthy looking silvery/grey hair pulled back in a ponytail, with seemingly random dark brown patches in it, as if he gave a half assed attempt to dye it and gave up halfway through the process.
The woman, who was about 5' 6", emaciated, and looked about mid 20s, wore a black evening gown with elbow length satin gloves and had a clashing bright green knit shawl around her shoulders.
She had a short bob haircut with bangs, though it really looked like a poorly cared for wig.
She had the same high forehead, cheekbones, and blue eyes as her partner, although her eyes were more narrow and slightly slanted.
Neither had eyebrows.
As I started cleaning up behind the bar, the woman began clearing her throat impatiently, so I walked over to see what they wanted.
I wanted them to get the Hell out of my bar.
That's when I noticed the stench emanating from this woman.
Not only did she smell like she hadn't bathed in a month, but she also smelled like chemicals.
I used to apprentice as an embalmer, and I swear that woman smelled just like formalin/formaldehyde.
We're still not over:
When I walked over, the man beckoned me to him and placed a black leather satchel on the bar, from which he removed several photographs and asked me if I knew any of the subjects in those pictures.
I decided I would humor him.
Part of me suspected this must be a police investigation, but when I looked at the pictures I became truly terrified.
As I said, I am in the Goth culture here in Tampa, and as I am sure you know, that subculture attracts many paranormal enthusiasts.
Some of the people in these photographs were my friends.
Most of the photos looked candid and snapped from hiding, and some of them bore time stamps and were obviously stills from CCTV footage.
As I looked over the photos, she kept staring and grinning at me.
I had the feeling that even though the man was talking, she was the one in charge.
I have no idea why I knew this, but I did.
I feigned ignorance and told them I had no idea who those people were, and that I was closing now, so they needed to leave.
Mind you, they never sat down during this entire period.
They both grinned at me like they knew I was lying, the man unlocked the door, and both quietly walked out.
They had not even taken a sip from their beers.
The whole experience seemed dream like to me, and I almost wanted to believe I had hallucinated it.
Remember how I said I abused my free credits on the jukebox?
Well, once they left I realized the juke was dead.
I even remember what bands were playing before the two walked in:
Iron Maiden followed by Siouxsie and the Banshees.
That particular model of a jukebox cannot be shut off by the remote, it would only die like that in the event of a power outage or if it had been unplugged.
It was still plugged in, and no power outage had occurred.
The bar closed 2 months later and I never saw the couple again.
I contacted my former assistant manager and the one server I still keep in contact with, and asked them, nonchalantly, if they had experienced any odd occurrences involving black cars or odd phone calls.
I did not tell them why I was asking.
Neither I nor they had any experiences with black cars, but they both told me that someone kept calling the bar on my nights off, asking for me by my full name.
These calls only occurred in the 2 weeks prior to my encounter, or whatever you want to call it.
No one outside of my family, close friends, or lawyer know my middle name.
It's not even on my social security card.
Both the assistant manager and server told me that after they said I was not working that night, the voice on the other end, always female, would giggle and hang up.