John clutched his eldritch libation, sorrow etched into the furrows of his weary countenance. The enigmatic stranger, shrouded in an otherworldly aura, materialized before him, unsettling him from his melancholic reverie. "Greetings," spoke the stranger in an unsettling tone. John glanced upward, feigning a semblance of cheer. "Salutations." The stranger gestured towards a vacant stool; John acquiesced. "Double whiskey, if you please," the stranger intoned after seating himself.

"What fate guides you to this abyssal haunt?"

"I'd venture a dalliance with fortune and games of chance...," the stranger mused, eyes surveying the dismal confines, "...but chance shall suffice."

"What plagues your thoughts?" inquired the stranger, nonchalant yet possessing an eerie prescience, having just received his chosen elixir. John sighed, granting his psyche a moment to select his reply. He gazed at the stranger, and something about the man's visage, worn and ancient, or perhaps the influence of the libation, prompted John to lower his defenses. The stranger became an entity with whom to confide. Commencing with a hesitant, "Well...," John embarked on recounting that juncture - the precise moment in his existence when the tides shifted. The remorse that had sculpted John's essence. The haunting moment. The stranger required minimal prodding - a sagely nod here, a comforting phrase there.

"And that, essentially, is my chronicle," John concluded, suppressing a tear. "Curious... I... I seldom bare my soul so freely." He emitted a nervous chuckle. The stranger half-smiled. There was a transient metamorphosis in his countenance. He sipped from his second whiskey. Gazing towards a realm beyond sight, he intoned, "Well, John, this might mark your fortuitous eve." He shifted his gaze back to face John. "What if I proffered a resolution? A means to regress... and amend your fateful choice?" "I'd deem you ensnared by delusions," John responded, toying with a playful veneer. The stranger grinned and hesitated, as if contemplating his next course. He delved into a pocket, withdrawing a stygian leather wallet and slid it along the counter to rest before John. "Unveil its secrets." John unfastened it with his unoccupied hand. His mouth turned arid. His heartbeat faltered and then surged, grappling to decipher what lay within. A seething mélange of emotions seized him. Fear, trepidation, and eventually, a fervor as he grappled with the revelation. Abruptly sobered, he stammered, "Ho...w... how might we enact this?"

The alley was a stygian abyss, pain slicing through the darkness. John heard the shattering of his skull, time elongating. His existence post that juncture began unfurling before him like a feverish, aberrantly edited tapestry. Chronological flashes of memories, evoking love and friendships, danced through his mental recesses, recounting chance encounters that had bloomed into felicitous moments. He witnessed their vanishing. He tasted loss. He bore witness to the demise of the person he had metamorphosed into.

John awoke. A rejuvenated John, bereft of many temporal scars.

 

John clutched his drink, sorrow drawn on his lined face. The stranger startled him from his ruminations. “Hi there”. John looked up and faked a smile, “Hey”. The stranger gestured to the stool; John nodded. “Double whiskey please”, the stranger ordered his poison after seating himself.

“What brings you to this dive?”

“I’d like to say woman and gambling…”. The stranger looked around the bar, ”…but I’ll settle for gambling”.

“What’s got you worried?” the stranger asked, nonchalantly and knowingly, after taking first purchase of his drink. John sighed, giving his mind a moment to choose a response. He looked up at the stranger. Maybe it was his worn and wordly face, or perhaps it was the drink, but John felt his defenses lift. The stranger became easy to talk to. After a brief opening of “Well…”, John began telling him about the moment - the moment in his life when everything changed. The regret that made John whom he is. The moment that haunted him. The stranger had to do little work- a knowing nod here, a reassuring word there.

“And yeah, that’s pretty much my story” John concluded, holding back a tear. “Strange…I… I’m not usually so open”. He gave a nervous chuckle. The stranger half smiled. Something about his face changed briefly. He sipped on his second whiskey. Looking up to something that wasn’t there he said, “Well John, it might be your lucky night.” He turned his head to face John. “What if I told you that I have a solution for you? A way to go back... and change your decision?”. “I’d say you’re deluded”, John responded with a playful tone. The stranger smiled and paused as if deciding on what to do next. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a dark leather wallet and slid it along the counter to rest in front of John. “Open it”. John flipped it open with his free hand. His mouth went dry. His heart halted and then began to race as his mind struggled to process what he saw. A seething mix of emotion crept over him. Fear, anxiety and then excitement as he came to terms with realization. Suddenly feeling sober, he uttered “Wh..h…how would you…we do this?”

The alley was dark, the pain was sharp. John heard his head crack before time seemed to slow. His life following that day started playing back to him like a madly edited movie. Chronologized episodic memories of relationships he had had, first encounters with the people he had come to love and relived happy coincidences echoed through his minds eye, giving him witness to incidental joy. He saw them disappear. He felt loss. He watched the person he had become die.

 

John awoke. A younger John, with less lines.