THE INN

Chapter: 1 When Someone Visits The Inn

Stiles got himself inside and saw an old man sitting behind a small wooden counter. It looked more like a courtroom. He pictured someone entirely different judging from the old man's voice. His voice despite being low was firm. The old man was wearing a plain brown shirt and a shabby white woolen sweater. He removed his spectacles and massaged the corners of his nose.

The old man got up from his chair, making a squeaky noise. 'How can I help you?' he asked.

Stiles was surprised to see the counter of a twenty-year-old inn arranged so neatly. A blue crystal dolphin and a pen stand in the corner. His gaze went from the green A3 register to a black desk sign. He saw the name Morgan Andrews carved in golden letters.

'Wow! You have got two names. Sounds cool,' he said still eyeing the nameplate.

Stiles looked up and found Morgan staring at him. 'Are you making fun of my name, son?'

'No,' he said. 'I- I think it's cool too... you know. I have nothing to say in my defense.'

Stiles saw a painting of a sinking ship in a sea storm hanging on the wall behind the counter. He found the use of bold colors interesting. Although the painting did not match the peach color walls at all, it was the only thing that brightened up the place.

Morgan cleared his throat to grab his attention. 'You looking for something?'

'A room here,' Stiles put his bag down.

Morgan narrowed his eyes and opened the register. He licked his fingers to continue flipping through the pages. 'Never get to hear that line much around here.' said Morgan.

Stiles' watched Morgan slowly writing something in the register. He wondered how much longer it would take to scribble down a name. 'You don't have a computer?' he asked.

Morgan stopped writing and looked at Stiles. He expected a sarcastic statement from him, but on the contrary, Morgan said nothing. He pulled his spectacles closer to him and turned the register towards Stiles. 'Just write down your name down here.'

Stiles leaned forward to take the pen.

'Machines kill people, it will kill you, too,' Morgan cleaned his lenses from the long sleeves of his shirt.

It reminded him of the old man he met ten minutes ago. 'Do you have a brother by any chance? He is sort of crazy and weird.' He realized how absurd he must have sounded asking a question like this.

Morgan folded his specs and kept them beside the pen stand. 'That would be forty dollars, and you don't get to bargain.'

He looked at Morgan and then moved his gaze to the register. He saw, 'NAME AND CONTACT DETAILS' written in bold letters. He started filling the details when he realized that he wrote his real name. Not that anybody in Greywald knew who he was but he was here not as a tourist or someone who needed to spend some time away from the city, he was there as an undercover reporter. He couldn't risk getting caught or getting the people around him suspicious.

A few minutes in Greywald and he had already formed an opinion about the kind of people he would find here. First, that strange duo, Don, and Grace and not to forget the arrogant teenager he met outside the inn. If Stiles saw the three of them together, he could bet they were a family.

Maybe he was over thinking, or it was right on his part to judge those people based on the two minutes he spent talking to them. Whatever it was, he needed a fresh start. A new beginning.

Stiles wrote down his name and a made-up address. He watched Morgan from the corner of his eye, waiting for the right moment to strike a conversation with him.

'So, is this the inn... ' he trailed off.

Morgan took a step back and folded his arms across his chest. 'Are you the police or some reporter again? How many times do I need to tell you, people! This place is not haunted.'

'No, I was just curious. I've heard a lot about this town and especially about this inn.' he handed four ten- dollar bill to Morgan.

Morgan sighed and moved his head sideways. 'A year ago, two geologists went missing. They were here for some research on the lake,' he paused. 'Some ghost took them, apparently.'

'Do you not think it's the work of a ghost?' he couldn't control the curiosity in his tone.

'Kid, I'm working here for the past twenty years. I have never seen or heard anything that might make me wanna get the hell out of here.' Morgan turned around and picked a pair of keys from the owl-shaped key stand. 'Here's your key. Billy will take you to your room.' Morgan signaled to someone behind him.

Billy, the same boy he met outside.

'So, you work here.' Stiles picked up his bag.

Billy's face was hiding behind his 4.5-inch phone screen. He was continuously moving his fingers on his screen. Billy didn't say anything and started walking. He followed Billy to the metallic arched staircase. He touched the cold black railing, shaking it with his bag for safety.

Wearing sports shoes on the mini road trip seemed like a good idea until his shoes rubbed against the metal. A loud squishing noise echoed, he looked at Billy who was still busy doing something on his phone.

'Incredible,' he whispered.

Stiles couldn't keep up with the sudden increase in Billy's pace. He lost Billy on the tenth step. After fifteen seconds, he finally reached the top of the stairs. He saw Billy standing in front of an open door. The white painted room was exactly the way he pictured it. Less than twenty-four hours ago, Oliver, tried to show some pictures of the interior of the inn to him. He wanted to change Stiles' mind, he wanted him to drop the idea of doing the story. Good or bad, he didn't care about how the inn was. A part of him did, maybe.

He couldn't give up just because the rooms in the inn were small. A working tube light and clean white walls were enough for him to not give up.

'Here's your room,' Billy looked up for a second. 'If you need anything, don't bother coming to me. I'm just the luggage guy.'

'But you didn't carry my luggage,' Stiles said.

Billy scratched his chin. 'Whatever. I'm leaving. Do not disturb me.

'I will try not to,' he closed the door.

There was a single bed in the room with no side table. He opened the cupboard, there was only a single compartment, he wondered where he is going to keep his suitcase. He dumped his bag inside and closed the door. The loose handle of the cupboard hung low. Stiles tried to pull it up but ended up breaking it.

'Just perfect,' he said.

Throwing the handle on the bed, he went to check the bathroom. A warm moist smell invaded Stiles' senses. A silver shower head was attached to the top of the wall somehow he could sense that it won't work. He was too tired to eat. He was too tired to deal with another problem. He decided to leave it for the next day.

'At least there is a window,' he said.

Stiles crashed on the bed. Lying on the bed, made him realize how tired he was. He had a long day, every inch of his body screamed in pain. He considered himself lucky to have two pillows.

A white blanket smelling like mothballs lay beside his feet. He pushed the blanket aside and pulled the pillows towards him. He flipped the side of one of the pillow and put his head on it.

He turned off the lights. Thirty minutes later, he was still tossing on the bed. No side was comfortable enough. His attention went to the light coming through the windows. He could see the glowing moon hiding behind the clouds. Stiles shivered as the cold wind touched his bare skin. The window was half-opened. Getting up and closing the window looked like a lot of effort.

After tossing in bed for five minutes, he got up. He tried to pull the window but found it stuck. He tried again, and this time he used a cloth to slide it under the broken part of the window. He pulled the cloth with all the force but failed.

Accepting the defeat he went back to bed. Adjusting his jacket and pillow a few more times, he turned to face the window. He could see a dead tree with its branches staring at him from outside. The battery of his phone was dead. He forgot the charger in the car he had to wait till morning to text Oliver. The longer he stared at the branches he started to see different shapes.

The longer he stared at the branches, he started to see different shapes

Stiles' kept his phone beside him. The thought of having made the wrong decision by coming here came to his mind which made him even more restless. He cursed the inn five more times before he became calm and finally slept.