After hearing all the ghostly tales concerning the old King’s Inn, Scott Dunlap decided to take it upon himself to investigate such matters that night. Scot was an expert when it came to breaking and entering, having the reputation of not ever getting caught. He grinned; at least this job would be a piece of cake. Scott placed the glass cutter in his left back jean pocket, and slipped into his black hoodie. Grabbing the flashlight off the dresser, Scott shoved it in the inner pocket of the hoodie and went on his way.
He arrived at the King’s Inn shortly after one AM, knowing that most of the nearby residents would be tucked into bed. After checking that the street was void of vehicles and pedestrians, Scott removed the glass cutter from the back pocket of his jeans. Using the beam of the flashlight, he cut a large enough hole in the door glass that he could reach through and opened the door. He entered shutting the door behind him. Using the beam from the flashlight, he walked into the bar area. Scott noticed a repugnant odor similar to rotting flesh and began to retch.
After a few moments, he grew accustomed to the smell, and walked over to the bar. Placing his left hand on the bar, he sat down on the dilapidated stool. Within seconds, he felt something very hairy and light crawl across his hand. He quickly removed his hand from the bar, shaking it, hoping to rid himself of the crawling sensations. Shinning the flashlight beam, on the bar, Scott noticed a rather large hairy wolf-spider crawling towards the end of the bar. His ears picked up the sound of something scurrying across the glass shelving behind the bar. Aiming the flashlight beam, at the shelf area, he noticed all types and sizes of bottles, some empty and half full. The bottles were bathed in various types of webbing, which obscured his vision of what scurried across the shelf.
As he stood there, he felt as though someone was whispering in his left ear, whispering his name, while caressing the back of his neck; sending icy chills down his spine. He gasped for air, and quickly swallowed the bile that rose up in his throat. Scott quickly left the bar area, hoping that it was just his wild imagination.
As he walked towards the main dinning room, he could hear the sound of soft music, chatter, and the clicking of silverware against plates. Scott knew for certain, that he was the only one in the building, and thought that his imagination was playing tricks because of the various tales that he had heard. He entered the dinning room, shinning the flashlight about, no one there, just silence.
Again he felt, his neck being caressed, and someone softly calling his name. Shinning the light into the large mirror along the left wall, he saw a hideous figure, probably that of a woman with skeleton-like features. She was standing to the right of him, a repulsive grin on her thin lips making kissing sounds. Scot turned from the mirror and glanced towards his right, and saw no one. Scott left out a curdling scream and ran towards the door, promising himself never to enter the Kings Inn ever again.
When he arose, the following morning, and looked into the mirror, he found that his coal black hair turned white, and his face was that of an old man. What had been a piece of cake, had taken a toll on his life.