Tales from the Boer’s Head

The weekend stirs once more, and with it I descend again into the calibration pit, a place not unlike the frey-pits of old, where sweat and precision are traded in equal measure. I had intentions, honest ones, of adding more to the library this week. Perhaps the pub had other plans.

One of the gremlins fell ill, you see. A rare event, but when it happens, the whole structure hums a little differently. She’s a nasty little nibbler when frightened… bit clean through the side of my boot and left a rather artistic crescent in my calf. I’m told that’s how they show affection.

As for myself, I’ve only just clawed my way free of a strange affliction. Something took up residence in my throat earlier this week and began renovating with rusty nails. I suspect it was a guest I shouldn’t have shaken hands with, but such is the price of hospitality.

I’ve survived, more or less, with only a few bite marks and a new caution around shadows that giggle.

You’ll be glad to know she’s been released back into the pub’s walls. But, you may want to watch your ankles if you linger near the baseboards.

Now, for brighter tales and darker ones:A new story is nearly ready to take its place upon the library shelves. “Whispers in the Well” is a horror short concerning the Grayson family, who thought they’d purchased a quiet patch of earth to rebuild their lives. But beneath that farm, deep beneath it, something waits. And it has not forgotten the taste of voices.

More soon, if the gremlins behave.

~

P.H. Boer

Innkeeper. Slightly Chewed. Unapologetically Breathing.