Here is the final chapter in this story. If you've read First Time Experience and Second Encounter with the Same Entity you're up to date. This story ended after I saw him for the third time. I would guess it's because his hold on me got weaker, or maybe he stretched himself too thin reaching me for a third time. Who knows. All I know for certain is that this time he didn't scare me as bad as the last two times.
John Doyle's pub situated in Phibsboro, Cabra, is a nice place for a drink. It has recently changed management, but it retains a pleasant atmosphere. Except the third floor, when I worked there.
A bit of geography, the third floor separates itself with a staircase. On the opposite side of the staircase is the male toilets (third floor) and opposite this is the storage room. It contains plates and so forth, and it's only accessible through the second floor bar, through a door on the far left corner. A small hallway with staircase, leads up to it. There are stories of what has happened in the room, but they are not mine so I won't tell them. In my opinion though, from what I did hear about these stories, it's another spirit, or because of some many differences, made up.
We were just finished for the night. I'd stopped serving, and had gone downstairs to have a smoke, and a glass of coke, leaving my lounge girl upstairs with a few stragglers, and a few tables to clear.
Having finished my smoke I started to climb back upstairs to finish closing the bar, cashing up, re stocking the fridges, and because it was a saturday, scrubbing the floors. When I was knocked aside by two guys, with a look of absolute terror on their faces. I ran up the rest of the stairs to make sure Tracy was ok. She was standing at the bar entrance looking at the far corner door (always locked) her mouth open. This wasn't the first thing I noticed. You will all understand what I felt first. Cold spots. My body passed through one. It really made me shiver. At this point of my life I'm use to this feeling. Accustomed to hearing my name called, touched, and seeing people you know shouldn't be with you. I walked over to Tracy and asked "What happened?" She shrugged at first and then in a moment of clarity she said "They knocked on the door, for a laugh I guess..." she paused, it looked like she was struggling with belief and disbelief, "then someone knocked back, NO!, kicked back". Apparently the door had been pushed out with incredible force in answer to the inebriated fools knocking. She then sat down and cried. I soothed her, told her there was nothing to worry about (at this point temperature had returned to normal and I wasn't having images screaming through my mind) and poured her a nice bacardi and coke. I've never seen anyone drink as quick as Tracy did.
After she knocked back her drink she set off upstairs to clean the toilets. If I haven't made this clear I will now, the stairs for the toilets are located in the middle of the bar, away from the other door. I said I'd clean the gents and bring down the rubbish if she left it at the top of the stairs. Once she'd done this she could go home. So off she had gone leaving me alone on the second floor. There was nothing out of place, so I went up to the male toilets. After cleaning the big urinal tank that resides in all male toilets I went to clean the only cubicle it possessed.
Just before I entered I noticed the toilet door opening, reflected in the mirror, and I informed this person that we were closed for cleaning. The guys downstairs use to send people up to use the third floor toilets as a joke on me, so I wasn't surprised, and without turning around to confront this guy I went about cleaning.
I came out of the cubicle and looked about the empty room. Looking for anything I missed, which was nothing, I turned to clean the mirror and there he was, same smile, same maliciousness. He stood roughly 5'8", with short hair, unshaved for a while it seemed, regular pair of slacks, and a blue faded shirt. His hands were balled up into fists. I was scared, but at 20 years of age, I'm not scared of these things for long. Too many encounters.
So with a bit of force I screamed at the mirror F%@k off! Nothing happened, he stayed were he was. I turned, looked at him, and walked towards him. Didn't confront him just walked past him, through the toilet door, picking up the rubbish, and listening to his laugh fade away. For the last time, but I didn't know this then.
When I was walking home that night, I started shaking. My mind was flooded with after images. I got home curled into my girlfriend at the time who knew straight away what was wrong (didn't know it was that guy, just knew I was after seeing something, same as when we were in cork together) and she made me a cup of tea, and asked about what happened. She was the best. That's the completed version of that entity. He hasn't been back since. I'm 27 now and I still visit the pub on occasion, but without encounters.