I know what you think. Same like all these…
Same like me, fore I come here. Fore I learn. I think same like you. Yes.
Flasks. Flasks, each with spirit. Spirits calling, calling, pleading: Oh! Release me!
And you think: I free this. This. You think: Spirit glad be free. Him reward me. Make me – what – brave? Yes? Joy-filled? Rich? Yes?
Spirit give some, but him take too. Take from you heart. What in you heart? You know? Maybe spirit give you joy. Maybe give you woe. Bad woe. You weep, maybe you want die.
Spirits in them flasks not what you think.
The above was written for the Friday Fictioneers flash fiction forum. The prompt: a photograph of a well-stocked bar.