Alcona and Hubris
28-01-2006, 05:03
Amy stepped through the door, the light outside was blinding; even more so as she stepped into the dark lobby. It smelled of old wood, and decay. She stood there for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. The lobby was actually a few stories high, balconies ran around the outside walls at each level.
There was a reception desk made of heavy dark wood. Years of use had slowly rubbed off the finish in places revealing bare wood. She rang the bell once, as her hand went down a second time it meet flesh; cold and dead as sandpaper in the artic.
Amy almost jumped, turning to view the man behind the desk. The old man didn’t smile, he just looked out at her from behind glasses large enough to use as dinner plates.
“Ah Amy Jenssen, if you’ll please sign in here…” the man turned the ledger on the desk before her. She picked up the old ink pen and wrote out her name. Amy Jenssen
She looked at it for a moment. Somehow it seemed odd, a blurred memory. “Is that right?” she asked.
“Yes…you can leave your suitcase here and enjoy the bar.”
Amy looked down at her hand, it contained a brown suitcase. She knew it was hers, but somehow she couldn’t remember ever seeing it before.
Slowly Amy put her case down and started to turn. “Ah you’ll likely find this useful…” the old man handed her a sticker.
Hello My Name is: in round happy letters printed across the top and Amy carefully written out in black pen below that. She took it, and stared for a moment. “I’ve seen these before but why is this so…”
“Don’t worry, enjoy your stay with us…”
Amy placed the name tag over her right breast pocket and turned to walk into the bar. It was a long room, darker than the lobby even. Across one wall were private booths, figures hard to make out in the dark light shifted as she entered. Some stared at her, but no one said anything; nor did those people at the tables, nursing their drinks in solemn quiet. The bar along the wall was actually fairly empty. There was another woman who was staring into the mirror across the back of the bar. With dark hair and a long, athletic body she seemed somewhat familiar.
Amy walked over and sat down at the bar a few stools away. She looked up and down the bar for the bartender. When she looked strait ahead there the bartender was. It was not a pretty sight. It wasn’t a man or woman, but a skeleton. Dressed in a rather old fashioned get up, with suspenders and a stripped shirt, it seemed almost comical.
Charon asked, “What will it be?”
Amy blinked for a second, how did she know the skeleton was named Charon? She answered “A whiskey and soda…” Charon nodded and proceeded to start making the drink. She looked at the woman also sitting at the bar. “Where am I?....wait…no…I know where I am….”
“The Dead Thread Inn…or more specifically the Hole In The Fourth Wall Bar. Your thread is dead kid…just hope someone calls you back for an encore. Before you become too much of a shadow and vanish…”
There was a reception desk made of heavy dark wood. Years of use had slowly rubbed off the finish in places revealing bare wood. She rang the bell once, as her hand went down a second time it meet flesh; cold and dead as sandpaper in the artic.
Amy almost jumped, turning to view the man behind the desk. The old man didn’t smile, he just looked out at her from behind glasses large enough to use as dinner plates.
“Ah Amy Jenssen, if you’ll please sign in here…” the man turned the ledger on the desk before her. She picked up the old ink pen and wrote out her name. Amy Jenssen
She looked at it for a moment. Somehow it seemed odd, a blurred memory. “Is that right?” she asked.
“Yes…you can leave your suitcase here and enjoy the bar.”
Amy looked down at her hand, it contained a brown suitcase. She knew it was hers, but somehow she couldn’t remember ever seeing it before.
Slowly Amy put her case down and started to turn. “Ah you’ll likely find this useful…” the old man handed her a sticker.
Hello My Name is: in round happy letters printed across the top and Amy carefully written out in black pen below that. She took it, and stared for a moment. “I’ve seen these before but why is this so…”
“Don’t worry, enjoy your stay with us…”
Amy placed the name tag over her right breast pocket and turned to walk into the bar. It was a long room, darker than the lobby even. Across one wall were private booths, figures hard to make out in the dark light shifted as she entered. Some stared at her, but no one said anything; nor did those people at the tables, nursing their drinks in solemn quiet. The bar along the wall was actually fairly empty. There was another woman who was staring into the mirror across the back of the bar. With dark hair and a long, athletic body she seemed somewhat familiar.
Amy walked over and sat down at the bar a few stools away. She looked up and down the bar for the bartender. When she looked strait ahead there the bartender was. It was not a pretty sight. It wasn’t a man or woman, but a skeleton. Dressed in a rather old fashioned get up, with suspenders and a stripped shirt, it seemed almost comical.
Charon asked, “What will it be?”
Amy blinked for a second, how did she know the skeleton was named Charon? She answered “A whiskey and soda…” Charon nodded and proceeded to start making the drink. She looked at the woman also sitting at the bar. “Where am I?....wait…no…I know where I am….”
“The Dead Thread Inn…or more specifically the Hole In The Fourth Wall Bar. Your thread is dead kid…just hope someone calls you back for an encore. Before you become too much of a shadow and vanish…”