I woke up to the sunrise stabbing into my eyes through the window. I never get to sleep in this late...and there no window in my room? I open my eyes confused. “What the hell..” then I see the blood and everything comes rushing back. I stagger to my feet and head to the bar. I down a pint. Then another. Footsteps on the stairs. A man comes downstairs, one of our guests. “Breakfast is gonna be a little longer” I tell him. The guest grunts and sits at the counter. I numbly change out of my bloodstained clothes. In the kitchen I start going through the motions, skipping the bread. The morning blurs by and soon the all the guests are gone and I lock the front door and settle in front of my own plate with another mug of beer.
“I should clean that up.” I mutter to myself but stay seated with my drink, sliding my unfocused gaze from the crimson tableau. I don’t really have an appetite, only getting a few bites down before abandoning the attempt to eat. Soon I switch to Pop’s stock of Pictin Whiskey.
The days flew by like this. I keep the inn closed, turning away a few customers. Some of the kinder townspeople tried to come by with food or condolences. I turned them away all the same. On the fifth day I have to drag myself out of the bottle and to the edge of town. I wash and change my clothes for the first time in days. I don’t want to go anywhere but I have to be at Pops funeral, I can’t show up unpresentable and dishonor his memory.
Most of the town is here. Everyone knew Pop, he was a cheery fellow and well liked. People keep coming up to try and console me but I don’t hear anything they’re saying. The village elder is saying a few words about the gods. I don’t hear those either. Finally they start lower him in and start filling the hole. “No!” I find myself yelling out. Everyone looks at me confused. “I’ll do it myself.” I grab a shovel and start heaving dirt into the hole. It doesn’t take long for everyone to shuffle away. I’m out there for hours, slowly saying my final goodbye and sobering up finally.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
The sun is setting by the time the last of the dirt and tears have fallen. I start slowly making my way home, exhausted. It takes me longer than it should to get back to the inn, almost falling asleep standing and wary of climbing the stairs to the guest rooms let alone the ladder to mine, I stumble to my pops room and collapse on the bed.
I don’t know how long I slept before waking up slowly. I somehow feel like I slept for days but also like it was only a few minutes. There is no window in this room so it is just as dark as it was when I fell asleep. My head is pounding and I am starving. My head is screaming at my body for water while my heart yells back for whiskey. Forcing myself to a sitting position at the edge of the bed I pressed the heels of my palms to my eyes, letting out a light groan. Pushing to my feet I begin making my way from the dark room. I walked slowly, arms out trying to feel the things around me. I had been much to tired the night before to remember the layout and I hadn’t entered Pop’s room in I don’t even know how long before then. I made it a few steps only before, “grrrrmotherfuckinfucker!!” I leaned down to rub the toes I had just stubbed and *crash* toppled over. “Goddammit.” I stayed prone on the ground for a minute or two before pushing my way up. Fortunately I made it to the door without further incident. I, still a little angry and annoyed, yanked the door open to let in the soft light from the window in the kitchen and spun around to identify my attacker.
It was a medium sized chest. But sturdier and more decretive than anything I could imagine Pop using. Too small for his clothes and too large, by far with our finances, to be a cashbox. I wondered at it for a moment before starting to remember something. “The key!” I had forgotten all about it. Hunger and headache forgotten for the moment, I race up my ladder in search of my bloodstained clothes and the key that sits with them. I was consumed with thoughts of finding out what Pop spent his final moments wanting me to know.