Town roads are closed since the plague. No one wants to come to this place.
I found a ferryman for smuggle myself one way or another. I paid a heavy price for it. This is my only chance to find my sister and my nephews. So long I didn't hear from them... Her last letter made no sense, at all. Either way, I will adopt the twins, She is sick, like our father and uncle.
As we approach to the abandoned warehouse, which ferrymans "friend" left us a lantern for finding our way in the fog, we passed the signature statue of the town, a weeping widow, like my sister who lost her husband to the ocean.
The stink of dead fish and rot grabs me. Under the welcome sign, barrels of fish spread. Ferryman didn't pay attention to the stink, he seems he got used to it. He continues smoking his pipe. Even the smell and darkness, this fog and salt and tobacco was... serene.
Innsmouth is different. Remote but centered, hard to find, easy to reach. Like something sleeping and waiting. Waiting for me.