The Inn 🛣

Chapter: 1 When Someone Visits The Inn

Stiles got himself inside and saw an old man sitting behind a small wooden counter. It looked more like a courtroom. He pictured someone entirely different judging from the old man's voice. His voice despite being low was firm. The old man was wearing a plain brown shirt and a shabby white woolen sweater. He removed his spectacles and massaged the corners of his nose.

The old man got up from his chair, making a squeaky noise. 'How can I help you?' he asked.

Stiles was surprised to see the counter of a twenty-year-old inn arranged so neatly. A blue crystal dolphin and a pen stand in the corner. His gaze went from the green A3 register to a black desk sign. He saw the name Morgan Andrews carved in golden letters.

'Wow! You have got two names. Sounds cool,' he said still eyeing the nameplate.

Stiles looked up and found Morgan staring at him. 'Are you making fun of my name, son?'

'No,' he said. 'I- I think it's cool too... you know. I have nothing to say in my defense.'

Stiles saw a painting of a sinking ship in a sea storm hanging on the wall behind the counter. He found the use of bold colors interesting. Although the painting did not match the peach color walls at all, it was the only thing that brightened up the place.

Morgan cleared his throat to grab his attention. 'You looking for something?'

'A room here,' Stiles put his bag down.

Morgan narrowed his eyes and opened the register. He licked his fingers to continue flipping through the pages. 'Never get to hear that line much around here.' said Morgan.

Stiles' watched Morgan slowly writing something in the register. He wondered how much longer it would take to scribble down a name. 'You don't have a computer?' he asked.

Morgan stopped writing and looked at Stiles. He expected a sarcastic statement from him, but on the contrary, Morgan said nothing. He pulled his spectacles closer to him and turned the register towards Stiles. 'Just write down your name down here.'

Stiles leaned forward to take the pen.

'Machines kill people, it will kill you, too,' Morgan cleaned his lenses from the long sleeves of his shirt.

It reminded him of the old man he met ten minutes ago. 'Do you have a brother by any chance? He is sort of crazy and weird.' He realized how absurd he must have sounded asking a question like this.

Morgan folded his specs and kept them beside the pen stand. 'That would be forty dollars, and you don't get to bargain.'

He looked at Morgan and then moved his gaze to the register. He saw, 'NAME AND CONTACT DETAILS' written in bold letters. He started filling the details when he realized that he wrote his real name. Not that anybody in Greywald knew who he was but he was here not as a tourist or someone who needed to spend some time away from the city, he was there as an undercover reporter. He couldn't risk getting caught or getting the people around him suspicious.

A few minutes in Greywald and he had already formed an opinion about the kind of people he would find here. First, that strange duo, Don, and Grace and not to forget the arrogant teenager he met outside the inn. If Stiles saw the three of them together, he could bet they were a family.

Maybe he was over thinking, or it was right on his part to judge those people based on the two minutes he spent talking to them. Whatever it was, he needed a fresh start. A new beginning.

Stiles wrote down his name and a made-up address. He watched Morgan from the corner of his eye, waiting for the right moment to strike a conversation with him.