Inn

I walk down the street at midnight, my shirt clinging to me in the wind. The cold air wraps around me, chilling me to the bone. I quicken my pace. Several minutes later, I reach my destination. The rundown sign hanging by one rope, swinging idly in the breeze grimly states 'Grounding Inn'. I push the door inward and silently walk into the deathly darkened room.

I saunter over to the run-down bar to the right of the musty lobby, and I sit down at one of the dusty leather seats positioned around the bar. I wait.

I amble across the creaky floor to the old, long unkindled fireplace. I sit down to feel its empty space waltz across my parched lips.

I trip on the edge of the counter and roll into the storage closet.

I stroll over to the door to the rusty door that leads to the far back of the inn. The door creaks as I open it, and a strong, musty smell reaches my nose. I step behind the old, beaten bar. The clock strikes one, and the day has begun

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The first customer is a red-haired gentleman; he says hello, orders a drink, and then trudges off. He is jovial; I envy him. His manner is that of a younger man than I, though he seems to be almost sixty or so. I see him walk down the street, pull out a small object that shines in the moonlight, then he disappears into the forest on the other side of the street. I wonder about this for a moment, but then another person comes in, and I think no more of it. This person is a woman, dressed fully in black, as if in mourning.

"Hello", I say.

"How do you do", she replied.

"How do I do what?" I questioned, annoyed.

She did not respond to this, and simply sat there idly tapping her foot on the stone floor. I in turn leaned against the wall and thought. It went on like this for several hours. Eventually a man wandered in, looking as confused as he could be.

A long silence ensued, after which I calmly said "Howdy!", in an attempt to be jovial.

He did not look up, but responded in the same tone "Hey!"

He was an old man, and as he spoke I noticed a long scar on his neck. I asked about it, and he did not respond. The lady who had come in earlier was busy talking with another person who had just come in. Suddenly the man with the scar walked over to them and they continued talking now with the man's deep voice added to the mix. I sat down and read a book.

After some time, I came aware that the voices had become louder. I glanced up, and instead of what I expected to see, I saw a large crowd in my inn. Then, upon seeing my gaze nearly the half the crowd dispersed. Perhaps in explanation, the one who appeared the leader gave me an apologetic smile, turned, and gathered up the group once again. I did not say a word, but instead returned to my book. I had barely begun when there was a crash on the tables in front of me. I looked up. The man I saw as I looked up was of truly great bulk, and he looked at me with a look that made my brain shudder.

I saw the muscles on his arm flex, and the next thing I knew I was bumping along in what felt, and smelled, like a hayride.

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After quite a while I regained my faculties, such as they were, and sat up. It vehicle was, in facot, a hayride, its wooden wheels bouncing on the gravel road and the hay bouncing along with it. Eventually, I spotted a house in the distance. As it grew closer, I could make out a friendly looking porch with a porch swing. As the hayride got closer, I made out a friendly looking old man on the porch swing, but he was not swinging. We reached the house, and the driver of my ride, who was a young man, with black hair and a brown suit, came around and help me to the ground. I found my legs very sore from the ride, and the young man helped me to the house. I was thoroughly confused, because I was sure that the man at my inn had not been friendly. Perhaps these people had saved me. I suppose I should have been grateful, but I was still groggy from what I supposed was the night before. I couldn't be sure, because I didn't know how long I was out. We stepped past the man out front, who, as we passed by, starting swinging slowly.

The inside of the house was not at all like the outside; where the outside had been run down and homely, this inside was lavish and truly liveable. A regal couch covered half of a wall, and above it, a beautiful painting hung. A nice mahogany table squatted in front of it.

"Sit down, will you?" The young man said. I stiffly sat down on the couch. "This will take some explaining." He sat down in a chair across from me and began.

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My name is Tamen