This is part of the #MAYnia challenge run by the Hive account@freewritehouse. Today I have written 2802 words. The first 200 or so were written using the following prompts

deplete

and

Storm

Check out Hive account@mariannewest’s and the Maynia prompt here:
@freewritehouse/maynia-day-one

…

The door of the bar flew open and a man dressed head to toe in bright yellow waterproof clothing fell into the bar, along with several gallons of water. Krip, the landlord tutted loudly and motioned with his eyes at Jenny. The mop he was saying. Clean the floor.

Christ, the man was so lazy! Not only wouldn't he do the cleaning but he couldn't even be arsed to use words to ask someone else to do it.

Jenny smiled sweetly picked up the mop and went around the bar. After a short battle with the wind, the man managed to close the door behind him.

"Some storm!" Jenny said as she arrived at his side. "Why don't you take off your waterproof clothing here. I can hang them up for you." The man smiled.

"Thank you," he said. "I didn't think I was going to make it. All my strength was depleted from fighting against that wind!"

Jenny smiled and took the man's hat and waited patiently for him to remove his yellow jacket and then the waterproof trousers.
…

There was something strange about the man, Jenny thought. Not just Not Local, although it was immediately clear he was not from around here. His clothes, the way he wore them, and the way he held himself all of that screamed Not Local. His accent was difficult to place. And that strange way of talking “all my strength was depleted”.

Who talks like that?

But there was something else about him that was strange but Jenny couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Here for the weekend?” she asked brightly as she took his waterproofs from him and hung them on a hook beside the door. She began mopping up the excess water.

“Sorry,” the man said. “Is it that obvious? That I’m not local?”

“Not many locals out on a night like this, sir,” Jenny said. She nodded at the empty bar stools. “Even Old Jeff hasn’t braved it. First time he hasn’t been in for twenty-five years.”

“Actually,” the man said. “I’m moving here. So I’ll be local soon.”

Jenny smiled politely. People who weren’t born and bredHumpbucklers were always considered Not Local. Even Jenny was considered an outsider and she had been born in Waghorn, a small village on the outskirts of Humpbuckle-On-Sea. She’d lived in the town for almost fifteen years. People treated her right, mostly. But she knew she was considered Not Local by most people.

“That’s nice,” she said. “Welcome to Humpbuckle-on-Sea.” She offered the man her hand, which he shook. His hand was warm and dry, despite the storm. “My name’s Jenny. The miserable git behind the bar is Arthur Krip, the landlord.” Krip screwed up his face and shook his head. The other barstaff wouldn’t speak about Krip like that - at least not to his face. He didn’t seem to mind Jenny doing so. Well, as far as she could tell.

“I go by the name of Poppery,” the man said. “Zack Poppery.”

“Well then, Mr Zack Poppery, what can I get you?”

The man looked at the row of pumps and tapped the middle one.

“Humpbuckler’s Delight sounds wonderful,” he said.

“It certainly does sound nice,” Jenny nodded. She leaned the mop against the wall and returned behind the bar to pour the pint.

“Do you serve food?” Poppery asked, after a moment of looking at the various blackboards.

Jenny shook her head.

“I’m afraid not.” She looked over at Krip. “Not that kind of pub,” she said. “Mr Krip doesn’t agree with the whole gastropub thing.” Krip scowled and Jenny smiled. Krip didn’t even like the word. “We do have crisps. And nuts.” She looked at the row of snacks pinned to the board behind her. “Oh, and pork scratchings.”

Poppery settled for a packet of cheese and onion and a bag of nuts.

“Sit by the fire,” Jenny said, popping the crisps and nuts on the bar and taking the note, Poppery had left there. “I’ll bring your beer, and your change, over in a second. Humpbuckler’s Delight benefits from a short rest.” It would benefit more from being thrown down the sink, in Jenny’s view. It was a tourist beer. Not even brewed in Humpbuckle-on-Sea. The locals wouldn’t use it to wash their boots in.

“Bloody tourist,” Krip mumbled as Jenny topped up the Humpbucker’s Delight.

“Be nice,” Jenny said out of the corner of her mouth. “You can’t afford to chase away any more customers.”

Poppery sat down in the armchair closest to the fire. He removed his boots and stretched his feet out. The fire wasn’t exactly raging. As well as being lazy Krip was a bit tight. Jenny teased him calling him Scrooge. “I’m not mean,” he would say. “I’m just careful with my money. And just as well, or this place would have gone under years ago.”

He was well dressed, this Poppery. His clothes fitting well, and of good material. His hair was blond, straight and shoulder length. An unusual cut for around here. There was something about him that made Jenny want to look at him. If her friend Mindy was here she would probably tell Jenny about his aura. Jenny had never been able to see peoples auras. At least not in the way that Mindy described them (glowing colours that radiated from people pulsating in time with their thoughts). Mindy said that it was as much a curse as a gift. She wouldn’t wish it on anyone, she said. Jenny wondered what the colours were of Poppery’s aura.

“Stop gaping at him,” Krip said. “Take the man his pint.”

The lights flickered and Jenny could see the brightness of lightning through the windows. A rumble of thunder came a moment later. She picked up Poppery’s pint and took it to him. He looked up and smiled as she approached.

“Nice fire,” he said.

“I’ll put another log on. We didn’t know if we’d have anyone in tonight, so Mr Krip didn’t want to put too much wood on.”

Another flicker of the lights, this time the crack of thunder followed more swiftly.

“It’s getting closer,” Poppery said. He smiled, and his eyes twinkled in the firelight. “Do you have many powercuts?”

Jenny nodded. “The electricity system around here needs updating. Everything does, really. I hope you aren’t used to modern technology from wherever you are from.”

“What?” Poppery asked, the glass at his lips. He took a sip, grimaced and put the beer down. “Oh. No, I don’t get on with technology.”

Jenny smiled.

“You’ll get on just fine in Humpbuckle,” she said. “Things in this town haven’t moved on much since Victorian times.”

“Part of its charm,” Poppery said.

Jenny opened the glass door of the fire, poked the glowing embers with the old pair of tongs and then hefted a log into it. She closed the door.

“I’ll leave you to your pint.”

“Please,” Poppery said. “Sit with me for a moment. I could do with the company. I would love to know more about the town. See if I can fit in a bit more.”

“There are people who have lived here for fifty years, Mr Poppery and they are still called outsiders!”

They both laughed.

“Please. Sit with me,” Poppery said. He glanced over at the bar. “Unless you have things to do?”

Jenny looked over at Krip. He rolled his eyes and went back to reading the newspaper. Jenny looked back at Poppery.

“I think I can spare a few moments!”

As Jenny flopped down into the armchair, on the other side of the fire, the lights flickered again. She blinked because around Poppery’s head she saw something odd. Nothing like the auras Mindy had described to her. Rather than bright colours pulsating with life, the thing that clung around Poppery was made of shadows. She shivered as the thunder boomed. The thing had gone. Perhaps it had never been there at all. A trick played on her eyes by the flickering light and the lightning.

“Are you afraid of the storm?” Poppery said. Jenny shivered again. She swallowed down the strange feelings and forced a smile onto her lips.

“Normally,” she said. “No. But tonight, I must confess, things seem different.”

I must confess? Where did that phrase come from? That wasn’t the sort of thing that would normally tumble out of her mouth.

“Indeed,” Poppery said. He leaned back in the chair and the old leather squeaked. An unfortunate sound that reminded Jenny of the time her old cat Griff had brought a frog in from the rain. She had never heard a frog scream until that night. She hadn’t even known it was possible. “Indeed,” Poppery repeated. “There does seem to be a strange energy here tonight.”

“What brings you to Humpbuckle-on-Sea, Mr Poppery? Of all the places to move to… why here?”

Poppery laughed. The sound sent a shiver up Jenny’s spine and, suddenly - and for no good reason, she could identify - she suddenly felt unsafe. She glanced over to the bar, to check that Krip was still sat on his stall. On occation he had been known to slope off for a few hours when it was quiet. But no. Not this time. He was sat has she had seen him last, his newspaper in his hand.

“I have work to do here,” he said. “Things I need to see to.”

It was an odd way to say things, Jenny thought.

“But I don’t want to bore you with my life. Tell me about life in Humpbuckle-on-Sea. Tell me about you.”

“Oh, there really isn’t much to tell, Mr Poppery,” Jenny said. “Humpbuckle-on-Sea is a quiet coastal town. For many centuries it was a simple fishing village, but the Victorians used to come here to ‘take the air’ as they used to say. For a while it was quite a popular holiday destination. But its heyday has been and gone, I’m afraid. Even with the train line to London we don’t get that many visitors outside of the summer months.”

“And what about you?”

The lights flickered and Jenny saw the strange shape clinging to Poppery like a strange black inky octopus. It was gone as soon as she blinked. She glanced over towards Krip. He was still absorbed in his newspaper.

“Oh, there is nothing really to tell. I have a boyfriend, called Rod.” It wouldn’t have been the first thing Jenny would normally tell someone about herself. But for some reason she wanted Poppery to know she had someone who would miss her. “I have lived here for most of my life.” She laughed and gestured around the bar. “And I work here.”

“I bet this place has seen some things?” Poppery said looking around him. “Are there ghosts here? It looks like the kind of place where there would be ghosts.”

Jenny wasn’t sure she believed in ghosts. Mindy did, of course. She said she had felt things in the bar. She didn’t like coming in here after dark.

“I wouldn’t know about that,” Jenny said.

“And do you like your life?” Poppery said. He leant forward as he asked the question and Jenny felt there might be a wrong way to answer the question.

“Oh yes,” she said. “Would you like something else to drink?” she asked hurriedly, standing up. “I see you haven’t really touched your beer. Humbuckler’s Delight can be an acquired taste.”

Poppery shook his head.

“No, no,” he said, picking up the glass and taking another sip. “This is…” he seemed to think about it, searching perhaps for the correct word to describe the beer. “Adequate,” he finished eventually.

“I had better get back to the bar,” Jenny said.

Poppery smiled.

“Yes, of course. You have things to do.”

Jenny nodded and walked back to the bar. Krip was no longer sitting on his chair. The newspaper had vanished too. He was probably in the toilet. And if experience was anything to go by, he might be sometime.

She took a cloth and began to wipe down surfaces that were already clean. She wished that someone else would be idiot enough to brave the storm and come out for a drink. For some reason Poppery’s presence was giving her the creeps.

Jenny kept an eye on him as she cleaned. He sat in the chair, his feet stretched out, his gaze fixed on the flames of the fire. After a moment, Jenny stepped through the door that led to the corridor behind the bar. The staff only area. The door to the toilet was not closed, as Jenny had expected. Krip was not there. She stood at the bottom of the stairs and called up.

“Mr Krip?”

No answer. He might have disappeared upstairs to watch television. She looked back through the doorway. Poppery was still sat by the fire. She turned away and climbed the stairs to Krip’s quarters.

Krip might be a lazy, miserable, bastard. But he was protective of his staff. Once one of the Not Locals, up from London for a ‘boys weekend’ had tried to grab Jenny’s arse as she had walked past, both hands full of empty glasses. Krip had launched himself over the bar - quite a feat for a man of his size and had grabbed the man by his collar and thrown him out of the bar. His friends had protested, and Krip had chucked them out too.

“No one touches my staff!” he had shouted.

If Krip knew Jenny felt uncomfortable in Poppery’s company she was certain he wouldn’t have left her alone with him. And when she found him she knew he would be downstairs like a shot, throwing Poppery distrusting looks.

“Mr Krip?” Jenny called again, slowly climbing the stairs. It wasn’t forbiddon to disturb Krip in his flat above the pub. But he didn’t encourage visits. He never had friends go up stairs. Any socialising would happen in the bar. In fact, thinking about it, Jenny realised she had never been above the third step.

At the top of the stairs was a door. It was pulled to, but not firmly closed. Jenny knocked on the door. First softly, and then harder. No answer. She pushed it and it swung open to reveal a small room that Krip seemed to use as a living room and kitchen. There was a small stove, a sink, a work surface, with cupboards above it, lining the wall to the left. In the centre of the room was a worn-looking armchair and facing that a small portable television with a coathanger ariel sticking out of the top. The television was on, but there was no picture, just an ever shifting snow storm of static. The volume was on high, the sound of white noise filled the room.

“Mr Krip?” No answer.

Jenny looked down the stairs, suddenly worried about leaving the strange Mr Poppery alone. She was torn between seeking help from Krip and going and checking on the man in the bar. She took another step into the room.

“Mr Krip?”

There was another door on the other side of the room. Presumably, Jenny thought, leading to the bedroom, and bathroom. She really didn’t want to disturb Krip if he was in either of those rooms. But perhaps if she just opened the door and gave him a shout. She looked back down the stairs, and then made a decision and walked quickly across the room and opened the door.

“Mr Krip?”

Still nothing. She put one step forward and gasped. Her foot was in a puddle of water. There was water running from under the door at the end of the corridor she was standing in.

“Mr Krip?” Now she was worried. Had something happened to him? Perhaps he had had a heart attack. Rob always said he looked like he was headed that way. She ran across the hall way her shoes sinking into the soaking wet carpet. She pounded on the door and then tried the handle. It was locked. She hammered again.

“Mr Krip?” she shouted. “Are you alright?”

Suddenly, the door swung open. Krip was lying in the bath, naked. Water poured over the sides of the bath, red with the blood that flowed from his open wounds.

She ran to him and tried to pull him out of the bath, but he was too fat, too slippery.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and then she felt the life leave his body.

“Is this a private party?”

Jenny swung round to find Poppery standing in the doorway. He was wearing the black shadow thing like a living cloak. In his hand, he held a knife.

Jenny opened her mouth to scream but never had time to make a sound.