The Grimm Dossier

Chapter 16 - The Sting

What happened 5 days ago...

West Coast
Devonshire, Dartmoor
St George, Skirrid Inn
31 November 1898, 9:04 pm.

This year's All Hallows Eve began with such a cloudy evening that even the red of the setting sun turned a pale grey. In the narrow alleys, in front of the fences as well as along the streets, lights glowed and flickered behind the grinning faces of pumpkins and turnips. Meanwhile, the children had already finished their rounds through the village from door to door and had returned home satisfied with honey sweets and toffee.

At the Skirrid Inn, the celebration did not begin until after the sun had set. People gathered in the village tavern, taking every opportunity to escape the monotonous duties for a short while. The small room had been festively decorated. Small dolls made of straw or ghosts made of cones and white sheets hung on the walls and from the ceiling. Numerous candles flickered in the parlor, most of them in hand-carved turnips and lanterns with the eerie grimaces of Jack- 'O -Lanterns and other creepy characters.

While the womenfolk had gathered in the town hall as guests of the mayor's wife to predict the marital luck of the unmarried ladies with all sorts of traditional games, the parlor in the Skirrid Inn was filled with bawling and drunken men. Here they did not peel apples in front of mirrors or eat cakes with thimbles or rings baked into the pieces. Some of the men had thrown on black cloaks for the feast and lightened their faces with chalk or white powder to appear as sinister as possible, in keeping with the traditions of this festival. Far from female giggling, it was more due to the alcohol here that many already had a noticeable blush on their cheeks and around their noses. Instead of sweet cakes, they had feasted on Elly's pumpkin soup, pumpkin bread, and pumpkin pies before egging each other on to drink.

Young Elly balanced herself among the wavering ghostly figures, trying not to spill too much when some prankster thought to frighten her that evening. Arabella Andrews had been helping in the kitchen until the evening, washing up and passing bowls and pieces of pies to Vorn for a while. But a few hours ago she had finally gone to bed because of a headache. So his wife lay lazing upstairs in the parlor while Walter Andrews and Elly slaved. It would have been a lie to say that this did not make him bitter. Ever since she had failed the last time to give them a child, she was hardly good for anything. And he was quite happy about it. The brats were nothing but trouble anyway. Tonight, the little Jäger child had even dared to knock on his door and ask for sweets.

Arabella's migraine attacks were becoming more and more frequent, but as long as Elly was helping diligently, he didn't want to complain. After all, his young, pretty waitress appealed to the clientele more than his wife did. Elly scurried around like a dervish tonight, yet there was always a call for supplies in every corner. So Walter took care of the bar. Of course, part of these evenings was to get the guests to drink as much as possible. After all, these were the festivities where he earned the most as a landlord. As was the tradition, the village headman would provide the refreshments on this night. And not only because it had been the custom since time immemorial, but also because on this evening he escaped from his house full of women and took shelter himself in the Skirrid Inn.

Admittedly, Walter had already had a little too much to drink today. Taking advantage of the free drinks and food for them, the first villagers had already gathered in the pub early in the morning and he had of course not turned down every invitation, after all, it encouraged others to drink a little more. Now, towards evening, the level became more noticeable, as the mood loosened but so did tongues.