The Visitor

         Rain fell through the air in heavy silver threads, drenching the ground in torrents of the sky’s blood. The trees themselves seemed to shiver in dread, shedding vast streams of their tears upon the forest floor. Into this dismal place, a single solitary figure intruded. He was concealed in a black cloak which he grasped firmly around himself as he hurried through the dark woods. He swept forward silently until at last he reached a small cottage. It emerged from the deep gloom like a ghost from its grave; a pale, spectral form in the night.

          The figure’s long strides brought him quickly to the door. He hesitated, glancing hastily over his shoulder before knocking thrice in rapid succession, pausing, and then knocking twice more. There was a moment of silence before a small click sounded and a narrow slat of light intruded upon the darkness. It dimmed as a figure moved on the far side of the opening.

          “Who’s there?!” The question was gruff and suspicious. There was silence for another moment as the first figure glanced once more at the forest behind him. Seeming slightly reassured, he turned back to the door and, raising his hands to his hood, he let it fall about his shoulders. Dark hair plastered the sharp visage of the man’s face as he gazed towards the figure on the far side of the door. There was an audible gasp followed by the rattling of a latch before the door swung open. The man slid silently inside as his cool blue gaze swept the forest a final time.

          Inside, the cottage was dimly lit by the glowing of the hearth’s coals and a single candle resting on the heavy table setting in the center of the open room. The newcomer moved forward into the room, sliding the drenched cloak from his shoulders as his eyes flicked towards the shuttered windows.

          “Are there any lodgers staying here?” The man’s voice was barely a whisper and his eyes never strayed from their survey of the room.

          “No. I never ‘ave business this time o’ year… But ya know that, sir.”

          The newcomer’s eyes flashed back to the meet the innkeeper’s as he handed the man his coat. The sound of the storm filled the silence for a moment. The innkeeper broke away first, moving towards the dying fire in the hearth.

         “Come, sit and I’ll get ya some fresh clothes.” He said as he hung the coat on a nearby peg to dry. "Ya must be soaked through after a bout in that storm."

          The man at the door hesitated for a moment before seeming to resigned himself with a wary sigh. He approached the fire and slid heavily into the chair that the owner offered.

          “Thank you, Everett.” He said quietly watched the innkeeper throw another log onto the fire.

          “‘Snothin’,” Everett replied, “only the name’s Ev to all my friends, past and present.” He shot his guest a meaningful look before he left the room.



When he returned he found the man deep in thought as he into the fire. The flickering light cast strange shadows across the man’s sharp features, giving them an unfamiliar quality. The look unsettled the innkeeper.

          “These should fit ya.” He handed the bundle of clothes he had retrieved to his vistor. Their eyes met for a silent moment.

          “You don’t want to be a part of this.”

          “I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

          They watched each other quietly, for the moment uncertain. This time the man broke away first, turning his gaze to the scared and callused hands in his lap. “My story’s long, Ev, and once I start, I don’t think that there is anyway back.”

          “Then it’s a good thing you came on a night like this Jasper.”