Ding, ding, ding.
The little bell rang as I opened the door.
A simple sound, but one that seemed hallow, as if the silvery bell had experienced -or perhaps witnessed- a great tragedy.
Something that had left the bell void of its original sweetness.
I step further into the small barber shop and scan it. The walls and floor are both a ghastly gray, something around the color of thunderclouds at night.
Dark and angry.
I noticed that the wallpaper was slightly charred as well. In the corner to my left was a large trunk, perhaps large enough to hold a grown man. Something about the chest gave me goose bumps and I shuddered and turned to the other side of the room. A small black coal over sat in the corner holding a kettle. It was also black except for a spot of….red?
I shift my gaze thinking nothing of the pot and shift my gaze to a dark oak vanity. I walk to it and run my fingers across the worn wood. On it were many things: razors, shaving cream, and other items that were essential to a barber and his profession.
The barber.
In my interest of this room I had completely forgotten about why I came here in the first place. When was the barber coming back? Should I stay here and wait? The room was making the hair on the back of my neck stand up, but being the stubborn man I am I stayed. I came here for a shave and I was going to get one.