Roundhouse Depot Moonville Tunnel Mist

You stand at the mouth of a dark tunnel. In faded cracked letters it says “Moonville” just above the lip of the tunnel. You now see a distant light. As it draws near you see the visage of a man dressed like a railroader from the turn of the century holding a lantern come into view. You see clutched in his other hand is a glass of beer? “Oh, cool I’m so glad someone made it to my reclaimed space homebrew club.” the hipster railroader remarks. He goes on, “try this New England style hazy IPA I made. It’s a good balance of hop bite and sweetness.” Chuckling to yourself about the absurdity of the whole situation it occurs to you that you don’t remember any invite. Suddenly you are on the other end of the tunnel and a ghostly voice whispers in your ear “even ghosts like brewing beer”.