The air inside the house felt different already-- hazy, dim...and bleak. I walked to the ship slowly. It had seen better days: chipped paint, the faded color betrayed its age. I could just make out the name under the rim. Mostly all worn off now, the gold paint read:
My guide sat still and quietly paddled the boat, not with oars, but with a twist of his wrist and a sprinkle of fairy dust. Through the open folds of his cloak I saw sad and tired eyes, which stared at me in wonder. After a time, I worked up the courage to address him: "Who are you?"