Chapter IV
Entering Hell
by Faith McCann
Dominic Diffyc, the Magistrate stood in his office. He was confused, as he stood before the grand, oversized mirror in his office. Who was the dirty, disheveled man looking back at him? Was this some trick? He suddenly felt hard hands grab his arms and then he was roughly dragged backwards, his heels leaving dirty marks on the carpet. He looked over his shoulder and recognized the security guards who were dragging him back out of his building. "Franklin, Davis! It's me! Me! Your boss! I demand you let me go, now! Let me go, I say! Unhand me!"
"Haha, we're about to let you go, and we'll be happy to be gone of you. Boss? The Magistrate is our boss. Not a vagrant such as yourself." They looked at one another, and the look they exchanged as they shook their heads was obvious, 'this bloke was out of his mind!' The two guards dragged Dominic to the large fancy carved wooden doors which made up the entrance to the Town's Official Center Building.
Before he could get more than shocked, flabbergasted sputtering out of his mouth, before it occurred to him that the security guards did not recognize him! Not even in the slightest! He was thrown out onto his back. He was laying there, on the sidewalk. Like a piece of refuse. He was so confused? What was happening? Why was this happening? He sat up, feeling the anger overtake him.
Dominic brushed himself off, trying to not take close notice of his threadbare clothing, his ragged and dirty fingernails. He had just had a manicure two days prior, hadn't he? Maybe he was sleeping and this was a dream. Ahh, yes! That's it! It was all a dream! He would simply go home, go to bed and wake up in the morning and all would be right. That would explain it all!
He hurried down the sidewalk, a few blocks until he came to the center town green. It had a large central gazebo placed where wealthy locals could gather to chat while watching their children play in the park. It was a cold day so it was empty of people today. The park was surrounded by several large two and three storied, stately homes, more mansion than cottage.
He quickened his steps, and crossed the street to cut across the green. A thick fog had settled on the vast green expanse of grass. He didn't notice a quizzical rabbit, nibbling on a blade of grass, enjoying the end of the afternoon sunshine. The rabbit watched Dominic rush past.
Dominic felt confident with his plan. He simply needed a rest. A goodnight's sleep and he would awake from this nightmare. He looked through the fog looking for his home. It was the largest, most grand one surrounding the green. There was the big blue house with white trim the Sellers' lived in. Mr. Sellers was the master jeweler in the town.
The big yellow brick home, a three storied mansion was the home of the Stein brothers. They owned the large food market. The home was a family home which was large enough for both of their wives and children. It was separated into a two sided building allowing for one family to live on each side. His was larger still, being the Magistrate after all . . . wait. . . where was it?
He slowed, until he came to a stop. He slowly turned, around and around, a slowly spinning human top, with wisps of mist floating by. Where was his home? It was a big, three storied, red brick home with shiny black shutters and four entire chimneys on the top! A building that impressive didn't just disappear! or did it? He slowly turned, the Sellers', the Stein's, and there was the Sulka's, who have the wooden clapboard home, very old and classic. They both serve on the town council, primarily running town events and overseeing the parks and recreation departments. But his home, was . . . gone!
It should be right between the big blue and the yellow houses. But all that was there was a large brightly colored flower garden. Large wraiths of fog floated by, he waved irritatingly at the mist in front of his face, with little affect. He felt lost, and suddenly, quite lonely. This . . . was all wrong. It had been a very long day. Would it never come to an end?
He felt exhaustion come over him. His office staff doesn't recognize him. His home and apparently his house staff are gone. . . somewhere? He felt dejected as he walked over to the gazebo, which appeared empty. He ascended the stairs and went to one of the benches and wearily sank down. He put his head in his hands as he let out a deep sigh which seemed to come from his very soul. How will he figure this entire situation out?
"My goodness. what a deep, soulful sigh!" a soft melodic voice said.
His fingers parted and he glanced through the gap they made, and without moving another muscle glanced sideways to see if there was a corporeal person there or some floating devil spirit! He had had about all he could take of the 'woo woo' magical world and a green eyed witch!
He saw an older woman, with light gray hair, it's considerable length wrapped into a bun on the back her head, with a braid making a crown on the top of her head. She had a light blue wispy shawl wrapped around her, which didn't seem quite warm enough for the chill he knew would be coming.
She was seated across from him, her dark blue long dress hiding her shoes and her hands were wrapped in dark blue gloves. She looked, somehow 'nun like' though he knew that wasn't quite right. There were no convents for several miles from these parts and the nuns from those distant places never came this far.
"It's been a . . . difficult day, to say the very least." He didn't wish to bother a complete stranger with his troubles.
"I know Dominic. It can be very, disconcerting to find oneself drifting through the veils. You will soon get your bearings, then you can focus on the work that needs to be done."
He had been looking down, his elbows now resting on his knees. Peering at the wooden floor of the small gathering place. At her words he looked up at her, more carefully this time. Very few people called him by his first name. "Wait, do I know you? How do you know my name?'
She smiled a gentle smile, and just looked at him, knowing that was not the question he needed the answer to.
"One minute" he started to go over her few words. "Drifting through the veils?, who are you.?" He slowly got up, a look of fear crossing his face. "What do you know?" He backed away from the older woman until he was backed up against the farthest rail of the gazebo. He gripped the railing with both of his hands and felt his mouth go dry.
"Sit down Dominic. You have nothing to fear from me. My name is Shermona. I am here, taking a brief respite before heading on my way to the Home for the Homeless. I go there as often as I can to give comfort, aid and any help that I can. But right now, you need my help, if only to help you get your balance. You seem to have many questions."
The older woman spoke so calmly, with such understanding in her eyes, and such compassion he had seldom experienced, that he carefully moved away from the railing and slowly made his way to a bench a bit closer to the woman.
"Do you know what is happening to me? My house is gone! My office staff does not recognize me! It's that witch, at the Rag and Bone shop! She did this to me!! It's a trick, an evil spell I tell you! Can you help me? I'll pay you, I can make you rich." His voice trailed off in a wheedling whine.
"Are you sure you want to know?" she calmly asked, sitting there as if they were discussing which type of cake to have with their afternoon tea.
"Of course! I do! Want to know!! Also how I can reverse these evil doings! Can you see this?" He gestured to his threadbare clothing. Holding out his worn, calloused hands, the dirty, torn nails. "Look at what she did to me!"
Shermona sighed, crossed her fingers in her lap and lowered her head a bit. Was she meditating, he wondered? Doing some magic of her own? He stayed quiet, not wanting to interfere with her mojo or whatever it was called.
She looked up, with her eyes only, never moving her head, piercing his eyes with hers. He felt a shiver flash down his spine. The look she gave him was implacable and he knew it did not necessarily bode him well. At least, not an easy fix to his situation.
"It's simple, Dominic. You are exactly where you choose to be."
"What? I most certainly do not wish to be in this predicament!"
"Ah, well. we all find ourselves in places, at times, where we are given a choice. You were in charge of this town, it's people. That means all of it's people. This is an opportunity for you to get to know, really understand what the majority of your town's people experience, day to day, who struggle to survive."
"What does that mean? Where is my house?"
"You have no home, no job, no name but Dominic. All you own is on your body at this time. In your pockets. You will be welcome at the Home for the Homeless, which has suddenly received word that the closing has been rescinded. A very good thing, as you won't be subjected to sleeping out in the bitter cold this night. Do you have any coins on you?"
"No home, no job? But I am the Magistrate!"
"Well, not really. Remember that accident that happened a few nights ago, outside of your office? In the street?"
"Yes, vaguely. my office manager, Ms. Peppercorn, was all teary eyed about vagrant being run down in the street by a horse and carriage. The driver, I heard, was inebriated and shouldn't have been handling any animal. Why? What does that have to do with me?"
"That incident, was reported about in the local paper. Your generosity was the talk of villages and towns for miles!" She smiled.
Dominic couldn't remember anything other than the screams from outside his office window and his simpering office manager. What had he done? He frowned at her in concern and a growing fear.
Shermona handed him a newspaper. Where had she gotten that from? He took it and started to read the story. He read about the drunken horse and carriage driver, the man run down in the street, and the injured man being picked up and brought right away to the local herb woman who was able to treat the broken bones and heal the scrapes and bruises. The man who rescued the injured man was a Mr. Tanner, a rag and bottle man, who happened to be at the right spot, at that very tragic moment. If he hadn't brought the poor man right away to the herb woman, he wouldn't have survived.
Yet, it was what the article went on to say? That he, Dominic Diffyc, the Magistrate, was so humbled by the rag and bottle man's selfish actions to try and save someone he didn't even know in his community, that he awarded the title of honorary Magistrate to the destitute man, for the remainder of the winter months,, along with his salary! WHAT!? Declaring that he, himself would be taking a much needed vacation, trusting the Magistrates position to the humble, quiet man.
"How outrageous! I don't remember any of this! I wouldn't do such a thing. . . " his voice faded away.
"Ah, ah, ah, so it is written and it has now happened. Do you have any coins? For even a Home for the Homeless requires a nightly fee for lodging. A penny, two pennies, four pennies or if you are a traveler passing through town they have some upper rooms, much more, shall we say, luxurious, for a goodly bit more."
He could tell by her face he wasn't going to get anywhere with her. He stood up, fished in his pockets and pulled out a handful of coins. He quickly did the math in his head, He could possibly afford a private room, if it wasn't too expensive. He was just so exhausted. Nothing was making any sense. If he could only lay his head down, for a night's sleep. This would all work itself out.
He held out his hand for her inspection.
"Good, that will do for starters. I'll walk with you. Help you get familiar with your new surroundings."
Dominic felt suddenly out of his element. He followed the older woman, who walked with a regal gate down the stairs and across the green. He kept her in his sight as he was suddenly afraid she would disappear. He felt as if he had lost everything, he was feeling an urge to keep her close. As if she was the only grip on reality he had.
They walked to the Home for the Homeless where men, mostly men were gathering outside. Some women and women with children. The older woman was greeted with friendly "hallos" from many. She was obviously adored by many. She reached out and grasped every hand that reached for hers, taking each into her hands for a warm grasp. He noticed she didn't flinch, no matter how dirty, or smelly the hand proffered was. She smiled into each person's eyes and called them by name. He also noticed she was called "Mother Mona" by many.
She walked him by everyone, taking the time to introduce him to what seemed like hundreds of people. He forgot the names almost as soon as he heard them. He felt embarrassed, humiliated, ashamed. .
"Why would you feel shame?" she leaned close and said the words quietly to him, being careful none could hear.
"Do you not think every man, woman and child here has felt those very feelings? Yet, they spend their time worrying more about survival. It is far more effective an emotion. It motivates one to make the best of every day."
Shermona brought him to Mr. Smyth. They could see him arrogantly directing the crowds to this direction and that, taking pennies as the throngs passed him, and before they reached him, she whispered one last warning. "He will not recognize you. It will be futile to try and convince him you are the Magistrate. Mr. Smyth has little compassion for the mentally ill. It will be best for you to simply try to make the best of the situation, until your work has been done."
"What work?"
"Ssshhh. Mr. Smyth, I have found another patron for you. This is Dominic. He has some coins. I hope you can find accommodations for him."
"Welcome to the Home for the Homeless, Dominic. We have several options for your consideration, but each one is a nightly fee. The rates range from a penny to ten pennies a night."
Dominic didn't need to recount his coins to know he had enough for a room for maybe a week, a little more. Hopefully he could convince that evil witch to change his fortune back to where it had been before he met her before he ran out of coins.
"A room, um please, . . . sir" Simply deferring respect to another stuck in his throat. "Um . . . food?"
"Ten pennies first" the Director held his hand out. Once the coins were in his hand, he gave a twisted little grimace that was supposed to be a smile.
" We offer along with the small pay for the sleeping accommodations, the patrons receive a meager meal of bread and water for morning and a hot vegetable stew at night."
The staff will be going around soon filling bowls, you can get one for yourself at that side table over there. He gestured to the long side wall. Sit at any of the front tables and enjoy your meal.
He nodded, unable to give thanks in his current position. He sat at the long table with his steaming bowl of a dark, murky swill that may or may not have contained some type of meat within. He ate and listened and learned that no one was ever brave enough to inquire as to what type of meat it was. He also started to sharpen his mind and pay close attention to the chatter around him.
He learned if one timed the entire evening event right, one could enter at the right time and be seated far enough back or forward, depending on what direction they tended to start serving the bowls at the end of each row and get the start of a new batch of stew.
The unfortunate ones could get pottage that had been sitting unheated, with flies and other vermin infesting it overnight, if not longer until it was reheated to a lukewarm sewer of diseased broth. That always made for a painful evening. He saw some, white faced, sweating and with pained expressions barely able to sip from their spoons, looking as if they were going to be sick at any moment.
He looked around and saw more, it seemed like hundreds. Poor, sick, all without a home, some as young as eight or nine, some as old as ninety. Some women, without spouses, clutching a child or two close, eyeing the strange men suspiciously, but looking at the crusts of bread and weak stew being ladled into the tin bowls with the desire of a lover.
With a slight turn of his head he saw the line, seemingly endless, coming through the doors. How could so many be so destitute? Whether people remember him or not, this was his town! His town was affluent, prosperous and sought after for people from over the hills to travel to, to relocate, to spend summers going to the festivals, to purchase the fresh vegetables and fruits more plentiful out here than near the cities. Instead all he saw was destitution, he smelled the smell of poverty, or societal neglect from the gathering of unwashed bodies as they started to congregate. No, indeed, the truth of the poor was not kind on the senses of the well to do.
There were so many. Every face showed pain, misery and a weariness that only hardship could etch onto a face.
He slowly placed his metal spoon down and found it difficult to swallow, no matter how hungry he was. What was this place? He suddenly had a sharp thought.
My God, have I entered Hell?
To be Continued. . . 'Angel or Demon?'
From the Author: I hope you are enjoying the story of the Rag and Bottle Shop. I am enjoying sharing the adventures of Catsandra and her familiars and the community of Castlewick with you. Please feel free to share this blog link to other fans of magical, fantasy fiction.
I write my stories using the inspiration of the incomparable Charles Dickens who wrote and published his work during the 1800's in Great Britain in installments. Mr. Dickens was a strong social critic of industrialization and capitalism, as well as bringing to the public attention the need for social reform.
JAnuary 2022
Dominic Diffyc, the Magistrate stood in his office. He was confused, as he stood before the grand, oversized mirror in his office. Who was the dirty, disheveled man looking back at him? Was this some trick? He suddenly felt hard hands grab his arms and then he was roughly dragged backwards, his heels leaving dirty marks on the carpet. He looked over his shoulder and recognized the security guards who were dragging him back out of his building. "Franklin, Davis! It's me! Me! Your boss! I demand you let me go, now! Let me go, I say! Unhand me!"
"Haha, we're about to let you go, and we'll be happy to be gone of you. Boss? The Magistrate is our boss. Not a vagrant such as yourself." They looked at one another, and the look they exchanged as they shook their heads was obvious, 'this bloke was out of his mind!' The two security guards dragged Dominic to the large fancy carved wooden doors which were the entrance to the Town's Official Center Building.
Before he could get more than shocked, flabbergasted sputtering out of his mouth, before it occurred to him that the security guards did not recognize him! Not even in the slightest! He was thrown out onto his back, he was laying there, on the sidewalk. Like a piece of refuse. He was so confused? What was happening? Why was this happening? He sat up, feeling the anger overtake him.
Dominic brushed himself off, trying to not take close notice of his threadbare clothing, his ragged and dirty fingernails. He had just had a manicure two days prior, hadn't he? Maybe he was sleeping and this was a dream. Ahh, yes! That's it! It was all a dream! He would simply go home, go to bed and wake up in the morning and all would be right. That would explain it all! He hurried down the sidewalk, a few blocks until he came to the center town green. It had a large central gazebo placed where wealthy locals could gather to chat while watching their children play in the park. The park was surrounded by several large two and three storied, stately homes, more mansion than cottage. He quickened his steps, and crossed the street to cut across the green. A thick fog had settled on the vast green expanse of grass. He didn't notice a quizzical rabbit, nibbling on a blade of grass, enjoying the end of the afternoon sunshine. The rabbit watched Dominic rush past.
Dominic felt confident with his plan. He simply needed a rest. A goodnight's sleep and he would awake from this nightmare. He looked through the fog looking for his home. It was the largest, most grand one surrounding the green. There was the big blue house with white trim the Sellers' lived in. Mr. Sellers was the master jeweler in the town. The big yellow brick home, a three storied mansion was the home of the Weinstein brothers. They owned the large food market. The home was a family home which was large enough for both of their wives and children. It was separated into a two sided building allowing for one family to live on each side. His was larger still, being the Magistrate after all . . . wait. . . where was it? He slowed, until he came to a stop. He slowly turned, around and around, a slowly spinning human top, with wisps of mist floating by. Where was his home? It was a big, three storied, red brick home with shiny black shutters and four entire chimneys on the top! A building that impressive didn't just disappear! or did it? He slowly turned, the Sellers', the Weinstein's, and there was the Sulka's, who have the wooden clapboard home, very old and classic. They both serve on the town council, primarily running town events and overseeing the parks and recreation departments. But his home, was . . . gone! It should be right between the big blue and the yellow houses. But all that was there was a large brightly colored flower garden. Large wraiths of fog floated by, he waved irritatingly at the mist in front of his face, with little affect. He felt lost, and suddenly, quite lonely. This . . . was all wrong. It had been a very long day. Would it never come to an end?
He felt exhaustion come over him. His office staff doesn't recognize him. His home and apparently his house staff are gone. . . somewhere? He walked over to the gazebo, which appeared empty. He ascended the stairs and went to one of the benches and wearily sank down. He put his head in his hands as he let out a deep sigh which seemed to come from his very soul. How will he figure this entire situation out?
"My goodness. what a deep, soulful sigh!" a soft melodic voice said.
His fingers parted and he glanced through the gap they made, and without moving another muscle glanced sideways to see if there was a corporeal person there or some floating devil spirit! He had had about all he could take of the 'woo woo' magical world and a green eyed witch!
He saw an older woman, with light gray hair, it's considerable length wrapped into a bun on the back her head, with a braid making a crown on the top of her head. She had a light blue wispy shawl wrapped around her, which didn't seem quite warm enough for the chill he knew would be coming. She was seated across from him, her dark blue long dress hiding her shoes and her hands were wrapped in dark blue gloves. She looked, somehow 'nun like' though he knew that wasn't quite right. There were no convents for several miles from these parts and the nuns from those distant places never came this far.
"It's been a . . . difficult day, to say the very least." He didn't wish to bother a complete stranger with his troubles.
"I know Dominic. It can be very, disconcerting to find oneself drifting through the veils. You will soon get your bearings, then you can focus on the work that needs to be done."
He had been looking down, his elbows now resting on his knees. Peering at the wooden floor of the small gathering place. At her words he looked up at her, more carefully this time. Very few people called him by his first name. "Wait, do I know you? How do you know my name?'
She smiled a gentle smile, and just looked at him, knowing that was not the question he needed the answer to.
"One minute" he started to go over her few words. "Drifting through the veils?, who are you.?" He slowly got up, a look of fear crossing his face. "What do you know?" He backed away from the older woman until he was backed up against the farthest rail of the gazebo. He gripped the railing with both of his hands and felt his mouth go dry.
"Sit down Dominic. You have nothing to fear from me. My name is Shermona. I am here, taking a brief respite before heading on my way to the Home for the Homeless. I go there as often as I can to give comfort, aid and any help that I can. But right now, you need my help, if only to help you get your balance. You seem to have many questions."
The older woman spoke so calmly, with such understanding in her eyes, and such compassion he had seldom experienced, that he carefully moved away from the railing and slowly made his way to a bench a bit closer to the woman.
"Do you know what is happening to me? My house is gone! My office staff does not recognize me! It's that witch, at the Rag and Bone shop! She did this to me!! It's a trick, an evil spell I tell you! Can you help me? I'll pay you, I can make you rich." His voice trailed off in a wheedling whine.
"Are you sure you want to know?" she calmly asked, sitting there as if they were discussing which type of cake to have with their afternoon tea.
"Of course! I do! Want to know!! And how I can reverse these evil doings! Can you see this?" He gestured to his threadbare clothing. Holding out his worn, calloused hands, the dirty, torn nails. "Look at what she did to me!"
Shermona sighed, crossed her fingers in her lap and lowered her head a bit. Was she meditating, he wondered? Doing some magic of her own? He stayed quiet, not wanting to interfere with her mojo or whatever it was called.
She looked up, with her eyes only, never moving her head, piercing his eyes with hers. He felt a shiver flash down his spine. The look she gave him looked implacable and he knew it did not necessarily bode him well. At least, not an easy fix to his situation.
"It's simple, Dominic. You are exactly where you choose to be."
"What? I most certainly do not wish to be in this predicament!"
"Ah, well. we all find ourselves in places, at times, where we are given a choice. You were in charge of this town, it's people. That means all of it's people. This is an opportunity for you to get to know, really understand what the majority of your town's people experience, day to day, simply to survive."
"What does that mean? Where is my house?"
"You have no home, no job, no name but Dominic. All you own is on your body at this time. In your pockets. You will be welcome at the Home for the Homeless, which has suddenly received word that the closing has been rescinded. A very good thing, as you won't be subjected to sleeping out in the bitter cold this night. Do you have any coins on you?"
"No home, no job? But I am the Magistrate!"
"Well, not really. Remember that accident that happened a few nights ago, outside of your office? In the street?"
"Yes, vaguely. my office manager, Ms. peppercorn, was all teary eyed about some child being run down in the street by a horse and carriage. The driver, I heard, was inebriated and shouldn't have been handling any animal. Why? What does that have to do with me?"
"That incident, was reported about in the local paper. Your generosity was the talk of villages and towns for miles!" She smiled.
Dominic couldn't remember anything other than the screams from outside his office window and his simpering office manager. What had he done?
Shermona handed him a newspaper. Where had she gotten that from? He took it and started to read the story. He read about the drunken horse and carriage driver, the small boy run down in the street, and the boy being picked up and brought right away to the local herb woman who was able to treat the boy's broken bones and heal the scrapes and bruises. He man who rescued the boy was a Mr. Tanner, a rag and bottle man, who happened to be at the right spot, at that very tragic moment. If he hadn't brought the boy right away to the herb woman, he wouldn't have survived. But, what did the article go one to say? That he, Dominic Diffyc, the Magistrate, was so humbled by the rag and bottle man's selfish actions to try and save the boy, that he awarded the title of honorary Magistrate to the destitute man, for the remainder of the winter months,, along with his salary! WHAT!? Declaring that he, himself would be taking a much needed vacation, trusting the Magistrates position to the humble, quiet man.
"How outrageous! I don't remember any of this! I wouldn't do such a thing. . . " his voice faded away.
"But, so it is written and it is now done. Do you have any coins? For even a Home for the Homeless requires a nightly fee for lodging. A penny, two pennies, four pennies or if you are a traveler passing through town they have some upper rooms, much more, shall we say, luxurious, for a goodly bit more."
He could tell by her face he wasn't going to get anywhere with her. He stood up, fished in his pockets and pulled out a handful of coins. He quickly did the math in his head, He could possibly afford a private room, if it wasn't to expensive. He was just so exhausted. Nothing was making any sense.
He held out his hand for her inspection.
"Good, that will do for starters. I'll walk with you. Help you get familiar with your new surroundings."
Dominic felt suddenly out of his element. He followed the older woman, who walked with a regal gate down the stairs and across the green. He kept her in his sight as he was suddenly afraid she would disappear. He felt as if he had lost everything, he was feeling an urge to keep her close. As if she was the only grip on reality he had.
They walked to the Home for the Homeless where men, mostly men were gathering outside. Some women and women with children. The older woman was greeted with friendly "hallos" from many. She was obviously adored by many. She reached out and grasped every hand that reached for hers, taking each into her hands for a warm grasp. He noticed she didn't flinch, no matter how dirty, or smelly the hand proffered was. She smiled into each person's eyes and called them by name. He also noticed she was called "Mother Mona" by many.
She walked him by everyone, taking the time to introduce him to what seemed like hundreds of people. He forgot the names almost as soon as he heard them. He felt embarrassed, humiliated, ashamed. . .
"Why would you feel shame?" she leaned close and said the words quietly to him, being careful none could hear.
"Do you not think every man, woman and child here has felt those very feelings? Yet, they spend their time worrying more about survival. It is far more effective an emotion. It motivates one to make the best of every day."
Shermona brought him to Mr. Smyth. They could see him arrogantly directing the crowds to this direction and that, taking pennies as the throngs passed him, and before they reached him, she whispered one last warning. "He will not recognize you. It will be futile to try and convince him you are the Magistrate. Mr. Smyth has little compassion for the mentally ill. It will be best for you to simply try to make the best of the situation, until your work has been done."
"What work?"
"Ssshhh. Mr. Smyth, I have found another patron for you. This si Dominic. He has some coins. I hope you can find accommodations for him."
"Welcome to the Home for the Homeless, Dominic. We have several options for your consideration, but each one is a nightly fee. The rates range from a penny to ten pennies a night."
Dominic didn't need to recount his coins to know he had enough for a room for maybe a week, a little more. Hopefully he could convince that evil witch to change his fortune back to where it had been before he met her before he ran out of coins.
"A room, um please, . . . sir" Simply deferring respect to another stuck in his throat. "Is it possible to get any food?"
"Ten pennies first" the Director held his hand out. Once the coins were in his hand, he gave a twisted little grimace that was supposed to be a smile.
" We offer for the small pay for the sleeping accommodations, the patrons receive a meager meal of bread and water for morning and a watery, but a hot vegetable stew at night."
The staff will be going around soon filling bowls, you can get one for yourself at that side table over there. He gestured to the long side wall. Sit at any of the front tables and enjoy your meal.
He nodded, unable to give thanks in his current position. He sat at the long table with his steaming bowl of a dark, murky swill that may or may not have contained some type of meat within. He ate and listened and learned that no one was ever brave enough to inquire as to what type of meat it was. He also started to sharpen his mind and pay close attention to the chatter around him.
He learned if one timed the entire evening event right, one could enter at the right time and be seated far enough back or forward, depending on what direction they tended to start serving the bowls at the end of each row and get the start of a new batch of stew. The unfortunate ones could get pottage that had been sitting unheated, with flies and other vermin infesting it overnight, if not longer until it was reheated to a lukewarm sewer of diseased broth. That always made for a painful evening. He saw some, white faced, sweating and with pained expressions barely able to sip from their spoons, looking as if they were going to be sick at any moment.
My God, have I entered Hell?
