Tales from the Boer’s Head

It’s been busier than usual, and not the kind of busy that lends itself to stories. It’s that season again, the one where the gremlins need to be rounded up for their checkups. Teeth filed, eyes inspected, whatever passes for their health maintained before they’re shipped off for something resembling a “boarding service.” Supposedly to teach them better manners. I’ll believe that when I see one of them say “please” without their fingers crossed.

Sleep has been… difficult. That’s the polite word. The truer one is haunted, but I’ll not indulge the shadows with that. Adding to the ambiance, odd little fungal hands have been crawling about the pub. Not mushrooms with stems topped with caps, no… hands. Tiny things, sprouting from the cracks in the floorboards and making obscene gestures at me before skittering off. Fortunately, Ious has developed a taste for them. Had he not, I’d be considering some sort of antifungal spray for the pub… though I doubt it would work on creatures that giggle as they rot.

On brighter news, a new tale has been added to the library: The Fever in the Reeds. Feedback has been kind, and if you’ve ever wanted Romans and zombies to keep you company by candlelight, you may find it suits your palate. Just… mind the black stains. They linger.

And yes, the Boer’s Head remains open, even when I must step away to calibrate the laboratory. The fire does not falter, the stew does not cool, and the doors never really close.

~

The Innkeeper

Collector of Gremlins, Sleepless Watcher, Brewer of Stew and Other Necessary Evils