The Hooded Figure

This is my first story on Wattpad, so pls read, vote, and comment to tell me if you enjoy it, thanks!

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She walked briskly, her dark cloak billowing behind her, her boots tapping quietly on the brick path. The night streets were silent, and a thin fog hung low, undisturbed by her passing figure. Aldonia was always like this; a bustling market town by day, and a deserted dead town at night. Just as the sun is setting, the citizens would hurriedly pack up their stalls, gather up their children, and rush inside. The windows would all be bolted shut and the doors locked firmly. Then the villagers would all go to bed without a whisper, leaving the streets deserted and silent, without a trace of the market it had harboured just minutes before. The reason for this strange behaviour is obvious. A story, from long ago, that grew from being an urban legend to everyday gossip, then to somehow being the truth.

The lone figure now hastened her pace, as she dodged into an alley, knowing it to be a short cut to her destination, the Grande Hall. She had hoped to reach here earlier to check into an inn for the night, but now it was too late, all the inns being locked down just as the sun sets was a great inconvenience of this town, especially for weary travellers like herself. The figure turned back onto the main road, the fog here was thicker, making it almost impossible to see her own feet, let alone where she was going. Yet through the fog, to the north, she could see a blurry glow, light! She knew instantly that she was going the right way, the only place that would have lights at the dead of night would be the Grande Hall, all the other villagers wouldn’t dare; they fear the legend.

As she drew nearer, forcing her tired legs to go yet quicker, she could hear noise, people yelling, laughing, shifting and banging; the general commotion you would hear in a bar or market place. The glow was much brighter now, lighting the way as she half ran through the empty road. The houses and stores near the Grande hall were extra protected, the windows were barred with metal instead of wood and the doors locked many times over. It seemed like the houses were trying to isolate themselves, trembling and cowering in fear of the Grande Hall; whose residents ignored the legends and are still alive with noise and light at the dead of night.

The figure stopped abruptly at the entrance, thankful to the brave, or perhaps ignorant, people, whose presence led her through the streets of Aldonia like a fly attracted to a light. Her hand reached out from under her cloak and prepared to knock, then hesitated. She doubted they would hear her over their own ruckus, so she reached for the large doorknob instead, which was almost higher than her shoulder.  The roar of laughter and yelling rushed out like a wave as she pushed the door open, and she couldn’t help but stumble back a little. She stood frozen in the doorway, one hand still on the doorknob. The room was enormous, which was to be expected from its name.

Tables lined the whole interior, men took up almost every seat, holding cups of beer or whiskey, or slurping down food as if there was no tomorrow. The ceiling was high, with beams of wood crossing this way and that covered in paintings of sunsets and beaches that caught her eye. The back wall had two doors from which waitresses and waiters rushed in and out, carrying plates piled with food or trays holding cups of beer. Between the two doors stood a large stage, with a single pedestal in the middle. While she was busy surveying the room she didn’t notice a waiter coming towards her, but her defensive instincts kicked in and she turned sharply towards him,

“Hello, may I please ask you to step inside, the neighbours get very angry when we let too much noise out,” he said, frozen a few feet away, trying hard not to sound like he was ordering her. Her mouth curved into a slight smile, just visible underneath her hood. She said nothing, but stepped forward, letting the door swing shut behind her.