I drivelled up a few sentences as a template for a possible story.
continue, or edit...give it a minute, have some fun.
The missing Boots
The Proprieter of the Knight’s Head pointed to the grey Cottage. “Go there, we’re full” . Well, on my travels through the irish mist I have learned at least one Thing: Don’t argue with Inn-Keepers. I thanked him with a nod, took up my Sack and stumbled through the cold Night towards the given direction.
From down the Hall the sound of a Cembalo threw tiny pieces of glass against the bare stone walls. The old Lady opened the wooden Door in front of me, handed me the Candle, bowed and left me on the threshold of an icy Night without uttering a word. I stepped into the chamber . A Four-Poster and one rustic chair shared the dim shadows of the flickering candle-light. A few shivering steps took me to the Bed and after a useless attempt to get my boots off, I squeezed myself in between musty smelling covers, closed my eyes and let the day dance its twisted steps once more through my mind.
Beach, Palms and Sunlight. A Lady with ravenblack hair and dressed in white silk bowed in front of me. She was trying to unlace my right shoe. She obviously couldn’t do it. Suddenly she raised her head and I stared into a distorted visage with bloodshot eyes. I screamed, woke up and realized where I was. The Fourposter, the darkness, the island of my Reality. My feet felt like ice. Something had changed. I couldn’t feel my Boots anymore. They were gone…