And this is all a dream, and none of you are real. And I'd give anything... you know... I'd give...

[kent-whitman.livejournal.com]

Thursday, September 18th
The Tavern of Hell, late afternoon

I stood in front of that damn water tower for hours before the sun rose, staring up the rickety looking stairs to the door. All I wanted to do was go up, kick the door in, and prove to myself that it was just a old, empty husk of a water tower. That Wanda and everyone else in this backwards little town was wrong and just spooked by stories told to keep children from playing on a structure that should be torn down---

but I couldn't bring myself to get closer than a hundred yards. The air felt weird, thick the closer I got. Like someone, or something was watching me. With a muttered curse I turned and went home; half annoyed that it bothered me so, half spooked out of my wits.

The rest of the night passed quietly, Wanda was already asleep when I crawled into bed near dawn, and up and bustling about with Rose when I finally tumbled out of bed. I sat on the porch and watched the world go by for a bit, some people giving me puzzled looks, others too preoccupied with tiny dragons or the cemetery out back or bushes made of cotton candy---

None of this seems right. Nothing. Makes my seeming out of the ordinary down right normal in comparison. Everything is off, dreams have leaked into reality, at least that what Wanda believes. Dreams like me.

Too many troubling thoughts, and they are making my head ache. With a word through the door to Wanda, I leave the porch and head down to the Tavern. I suppose I might find the name just a tad ironic now, if I believe what Wanda told me. I order a glass of whiskey and find a dark corner to hide in and...

and what?

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