Morning has broken and the last of my customers have left trough the gate. If anypony of them dared to look back, they would have seen this building gradually disappear in fog until it is like “The Inn of The World” was never there in the first place.
Soon, the memories of this place will fade as they each go their separate ways on their own separate roads. But their stories will remain with me, my children, and if you are lucky, figments of their tales will appear in one of your dreams.
Who knows, maybe you will In the world of imagination, anything is possible, and you haven't even begun to realize the terrible truth of that statement. I will see you in your nightmares, children...
THE END