The Immigrant

Chapter 22| November 18- November 20 1798

I yawned as my muscles ached as the sun shone strait up. I was deep in the thickets of the oak forest approximately thirty to forty miles form New York City. I thanked the lord that I wasn't   hundred degree heat with mosquitoes buzzing around my face for hours. I was only about ten miles form the Pensilvania border and about thirty miles more to Philadelphia. The road was relatively empty with an occasional wagon or spiffy carriage transporting aristocrats all over the country. I was shrouded in my thoughts about Burr and what he knew nothing of me.
I knew if I went back to Italy nothing would be waiting for me, no one would embrace me in their loving arms but it still didn't stop me from stirring the horse forward.
A couple hours past as I crossed the Pensilvania border. The sun was now at  my left as I looked wearily at my surroundings. It was much different being locked up in a carriage doing at least twice as fast and not having a care in the world. Now I had to really watch, a man in a horse with a one shot pistol was a easy target for thieves or wild animals.
The forest opened out a little as I crossed bridges after bridges of bubbling springs.
I past a few torn houses that were blown apart by cannon and gun fire from the war that left its deadly scar over the hills and through valleys.
The sun sank low between the trees as it casted shadows across the road. The cold air settled down from the darkening sky. It's frosty bite stung my face and lungs. I looked up at the twinkling stars above, looking back at the North Star at my back as I took a reassuring breath. The horse neighed softly as I could hear distance howling of wolves. I patted the horses side as the hair on my neck bristled up as the howls echoed for miles.
Finally I stopped atop of a hill as the rather large city of Philadelphia sat below me. Lights of the city flickered warmly up at me. I whistled to the horse as we declined into the city. The streets were a lot wider than in New York. The city looked a lot richer too with a lot of the house stood with purely white marble structures. The few people that were out looked up at me with weary eyes.
My eyes begged for sleep as the horses footsteps echoed off the buildings. I past through the city and made my way to the other side. To my relief a old inn stood at the end of the street.
I got off my horse and led it to the inn. I tied it to a post as I fed it a apple. I patted his back before heading into the inn.
The air smelled of smoke and tobacco. A few drunken men sat around some tables murmuring sluggish words to each other. I walked over to the main desk as a lady in her latter years looked up form her chair with a toothy smile.
"Hello mister." The lady's voice rasped.
"What can I do for you?"
I shifted my weight to the other foot as I looked down at the stout lady.
"I was wondering if-" I was cut off.
"A room sure and for one night I reckon and you'll be needing a supper and a pint of whiskey too." The lady laughed looking me straight in the eye.
"Uh, yeah." I stammered.
The lady got up form her chair as she went to the back.
"Here's your key and some extra blankets, your room is just to the left once ye get upstairs." The lady said handing me the key and some damp blankets.
I thanked her as I walked upstairs and into my room. The room wasn't too larger than a closet. A rickety bed laid at one corner with a candle besides it. A chamber pot on the other side of the room.
"Charming." I said disgustingly as I plopped my bag onto my bed.
I walked down stairs as the lady was setting down a plate of food and a cup of whiskey. I thanked as she gave me a wink, retreating back behind the desk. A cold wind blew through the rafters as the candles around the tables flickered slightly. I looked down at my plate. There was a slice of uncooked pork, with a stale biscuit on the side. My hunger was bigger than my Brian so I dug into the chunky, blood soaked pork. Trying to keep the foul taste of the pork down I chugged down my pint of whiskey. While I was eating I could hear the men from the other table talk in low voices.
"Ya heard of that ship that went down in the Caribbean Islands?" One man hissed.
"No what about it?" The other replied.
"People say that a ship with black sails came from the fog and sunk the poor
ship in seconds." The man hissed.
The other laughed.
"Black sails you say...are you a little old to be telling fairy tales?" The man laughed.
"I'm telling ye, I'm not making this up!" The first man retorted.
"Ah well, we must get going before you talk about dragons in the Appalachians." The other laughed.
Both men got up as they walked out of the inn. I could feel their cold stares as they past me. I finished off my meal with the biscuit. Full but an unsettlingly stomach I got up and retreated back to my room. The window clung with frost as I sighed sitting down on my bed. My eyes heavy, brain fuzzy I decided not to write tonight. I laid sleepless most of the night, looking up at the cracked ceiling. My thoughts were scrambled as I couldn't think straight. I sighed as I finally fell into darkness.