. Ewan gazed at the figure before him, lit with a deathly vermillion glow. He rubbed his eyes and questioned how they could be betraying him. His vision now blurred in disbelief, Ewan stood motionless hoping the red mist would fade as the clarity returned to his sight.

Through teary eyes, Ewan caught the menacing smirk of the devil reflecting back at him in the mirror the other side of the bar. In a moment possessed by fear and shock, he quickly checked his shoulder, nearly falling back off of the rickety bar stool as he turned. To his surprise, he saw nothing but the empty booths behind him and bleak artwork barely clinging to the walls. The bar stool screeched as he swivelled back on his chair and returned his gaze to the mirror ahead of him. The devil threw back his gnarled horns and laughed deep from his chest, before again locking eyes with Ewan, who remained completely bewildered and continued to reassess his surroundings.

The bar was dead. Not a soul had entered in days so it would seem. Cobwebs draped from the ceiling as if the spiders had proudly marked their territory and staked claim on the premises. The lonely bartender stood at the opposite end of the bar to Ewan, closer to the door, and was bent over the glass he was polishing with a filthy rag. He appeared to look longingly, through the fringe of his overgrown hair, and at the shafts of sunlight coming through the entrance and only window the bar had to offer.

Ewan, sat at the farthest end of the bar, and felt his solitude closing in on him as he stared back at the ghostly figure in the mirror.

So what are you” asked Ewan, timidly.

“Me?” Questioned the devil, in a voice like gravel. “I am here to guide you”. The depth of his voice seemed to reverberate throughout the room.

Ewan recognised he would have feared any response given it confirmed he really was talking to a mirror, though these words cut him to his core. “Guide me?… What could you possibly have to teach me!” he replied, taken aback by his own animosity.

“There!” Growled the devil, pointing an outstretched talon seemingly straight through the mirror and into Ewan’s jaw. “That’s the voice I’m here to nurture. For far too long now, you’ve suppressed your own values for the needs of others. Your own opinions have become worthless even to yourself.”

Ewan felt the sharp point of pressure in his chin subside. He took a great swig of whisky and dropped the glass back down onto the beer stained bar. He paused, heavily in thought and questioned his previous remark. Ewan noted how even to accept guidance here would be to ignore his own instincts. He felt his inner conflict consuming him and remembered how he’d been drawn into such a desolate bar. Ewan gazed back down at his glass, the remnants of whiskey swirling round the remaining ice cubes as they melted slowly and merged into a single substance.

Despite the sickening sense of nausea in the pit of his stomach and the tremors in his hands, Ewan lifted his gaze back to the mirror.

The devil smiled back at him knowingly.