November the 12th 1939. Autumn. The hotel....

... November the 12th 1939. Autumn. The hotel.... We pulled up outside the hotel, the rain bouncing down on to the muddy track. The icy wind rattled the trees and blew the dead rotting leaves. The hotel was half covered in the gloomy fog, which hang like the black ripper's cloak. This fog had been looming around for many days, but it seemed to be getting heavier. Through the heavy fog, we could see the black cut out shape of where the door used to be, now the door laid alone on the timber floor, decaying and covered in woodworm and an unusual fungus has start to move itself on to the door. "That's the front entrance for the hotel, I think?" I said to my fellow partner. Has we look up the mist was so heavy we could only see the entries and the first floor of

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