Ghastly Comfort XI

Dearest Mother,

Here at this inn bequeathed to me by an unsigned letter, I can often feel as though I have traveled into the past. Perhaps it is that the unrelenting gray skies give life a sepia-toned tint. Perhaps the crashing of the waves against the cliff upon which we are perched sounds like the crackle of an ancient record player. Perhaps it is the ragged horse-drawn carriage piloted by the man with the top hat and the oddly glowing smile one often sees on particularly foggy days.

But fear not, for I am doing my best to bring us into the present day. For example, I have just hired a robot employee, so to speak. Can you believe that?

Let me explain: we are once again dealing with some turnover in the housekeeping staff. It started shortly after a group of men in robes visited and spent a week in one of the community rooms doing strange chants. Perhaps they were an acapella group or a choir, though their songbooks looked very old (and made from a material that appeared almost flesh-like). At any rate, they are not so significant to the story. What is important is that, shortly after they left (without checking out, I should add; a very troublesome group), I noticed a door along the hallway that I had not seen before.

Inside, I found a very dusty portrait gallery. The portraits coincidentally all showed men in robes, much like the ones who had just visited (although these did not appear to be singing but rather screaming in terror). I am not sure what the previous proprietor meant with this display, but I decided to honor it and sent a housekeeper in to dust. And then, when she failed to do so, I sent another in. And when she failed to do so, I sent yet another in. Making matters worse, they each quit without giving notice or even informing me. They simply ceased to show up. Meanwhile, the gallery was not only getting dustier; there were now three more paintings to look after hanging on the walls. (I am not sure where they came from; maybe Hugo brought them down from storage, though I do not remember seeing any portraits of shrieking maids last time I was up there.)

Suffice it to say, without the housekeepers, the entire inn was growing dirty, and I needed a solution. So I turned to technology! Specifically, I acquired a Shark RV761 ION Robotic Vacuum Cleaner. With three brush types–side brushes, channel brushes, and a multi-surface brushroll–as well as a user-friendly app that allows me to set a schedule, it is no wonder that Engadget called it the best overall budget robot vacuum cleaner on the market. The inn itself is a bit large for just one, whereas it would be perfect for the small farmhouse in which you and father live. Still, at least I know someone is cleaning!

Speaking of your house, mother, I was thinking, would you and father ever consider moving here to help me run the inn? Father is growing so old for farming. And that house can be awfully claustrophobic. Whereas the inn has more than enough room for us, as well as all of the guests. Why, sometimes I think there is more room every day!

Just something to consider. Give my love to father.

Sincerely,
Miranda Prillchisky
Proprietor
The Dread Inn at Death Rock