The faded sign, depicting a strange creature armed with a lethal looking cleaver, swung noisily on its rusty hinges in the evening storm. The shutters rattled at the windows and the candles flickered in the many draughts which made "The Kobold and Cleaver " a rather uncomfortable place to while the autumn nights away. The few customers huddled over their ale and gossiped as was their custom.A solitary figure struck up a popular song but soon grew quiet in the face of overwhelming apathy...In the cellar it sat ,lapping at the milk left for it in a tin saucer. It had travelled across the sea from Tradgardland with the men,yet unknown to them,and now was the Spirit of this house. It moaned away contentedly to itself aware of others like it yet different in the woods and clearings nearby. Like the men upstairs it was a stranger in a strange land with much to learn and little time to do it in.
Ahhhh, this reads like you should be telling it at night over a campfire.
ReplyDeleteI eagerly await more.
-- Jeff