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Chapter 65: Halwayat House

The inn is tucked under a canopy of trees that grow on the outer edge of the Black Woods. I imagine this is the house young Hansel and Gretel stumbled upon. A grand estate, it is reminiscent of a gingerbread house, fitted with an aggressively sharp triangular roof with decorative fascia with fanciful swoops and swirls like royal icing, small windows you can see out of but never escape from with fanciful filigrees, opaque windows that look like poured sugar. Plus it’s quite possible a cannibalistic old witch hag lives inside it. The thought of it makes me giggle to myself.

The house itself, once inside, is far too boring to be described in a fairytale. It feels like a flophouse, one inhabited by passing travelers, and not a good one either. It smells of old beer and cheap cigars, I don't imagine the rooms will be much better.

An old woman approaches us, just as round as she is short, dressed in a plain brown frock and white apron.

“Good Evening, Madame. Welcome to Halwayat House.
Lola Everson

I hope you have enjoyed it!

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