Strange Reflections - Ken Lehnig - Bog

The night is chilly and the full moon shines down, casting sharp shadows where invisible things crouch, and watch the comings and goings of the living. The jongleur pulls up his collar and walks into the warmth and golden light of the inn. He unstraps his sack and pulls out an old guitar. The dour patrons are quiet, and perhaps a little fearful of a stranger in their midst. A bright and happy song is offered but does little to change the somber mood. So he puts down his guitar and begins to spin tales, and poetry to entertain, and perhaps even to send a shiver up a spine of two. He stands upon the bar and recites; "I pick proper strings and let the rim shot fire against the cracked plaster's calloused ear. So many loud, drunken tales, and stories told. Some haunt, lingering still in smokey shadows...