The Collected Tales

The Inn at World's End

I am the Keeper of the Inn at World's End. I would say I'm old beyond reckoning, since the beginning of humankind itself. As the Innkeeper, I welcome souls on their long journey from death to the afterlife. The Inn serves as a brief respite, a haven of peace for these souls before they cross over to the other side.

Situated in one of the few White Places, the boundaries between universes, the Inn is surrounded by a semblance of winter all year long, sprawled atop a mountain, its silver-white gables leaning over the edge of a precipice.

I would admit it's a place no one would want to leave for fear of the next unknown. I often tell them there's nothing to fear, that they've reached the end of all pain, all sorrow. But humans are stubborn creatures. They cling so tenaciously to what they've lost. I've never understood it, but sometimes I couldn't help but wonder, if there's something more to their life's struggles, something I'm missing.

"It's love, that's what you're missing," said an old man sitting at the end of the bar as he heartily slugged his tankard of ale.

I scoffed at him, refilling his cup. "Love is just another word to me. It has no special meaning. Besides, I don't have a heart."

This is why I was chosen, why I am the Innkeeper.

I inwardly scolded myself. Why did I even broach the subject again, after—I tried to recall the last time this was a topic of conversation—but I couldn't remember.

I was created without a heart, in the literal sense. In its place is a star, again in the literal sense. As a dweller of the White Places, I have a lifespan equivalent to that of stars—immortal, or as close to immortality as anyone can hope to achieve.

The old man looked me square in the eye. "What if I give you a heart?"

I stared at him, wondering if the drink had gone to his head. Souls don't get inebriated however much they guzzle that thing. But it helps calm them down for when it's time to cross over.

"Get out, old man." I chuckled. "Isn't it about time you cross over? The Inn is a great place, but it isn't as great as the other side."

"I mean it. Would you give up your star for a heart?"

The man leaned on the bar table, and that was when I noticed his midnight-blue eyes, the pupils lost in its fathomless depths, and trapped within those orbs were countless of stars. I blinked. I must have imagined it. When I looked again his eyes were an unassuming, lighter shade of blue.

Shrugging, I tilted my head as I considered his question. I had lived a long time, too long I think. Am I tired of this life? No. It's a quiet, monotonous existence, but at the same time, rewarding.

"I can't answer that, sir." I shook my head. "I've been the Innkeeper since before your world was created, I can't begin to understand what it's like to have a heart. To be...mortal."

To this day, I often wondered if I must have voiced an inner desire and he must have seen through it. But I was in too much pain as I woke up in a white place. Not the White Place, but a different kind of white with an overwhelming smell of—antiseptic.

Something thudded in my chest, it's incessant beat thrumming in my ears.

"You're awake, thank God," a tired voice breathed. "I'm Dr. Erinne Grey. You were found collapsed on the street without a pulse. We've been keeping a close eye on you, since your heart kept wanting to give out on us."

She smiled in relief. Her green eyes a stark contrast to the white around her.

If I find that sly old man again, I swear, I'm—I'm going to kill him.

Written for the Weekly Writing Contest 2024-2025
Word count: 653