Rate my short horror story

This is my first try at this sort of thing. So be nice, but be honest. I don't really care if it sucks because I have no interest in being an author but personally I thought I did ok.

ETA: Please excuse the cliche opening sentence. That exact phrase was required.

It was a dark and stormy night. The lively sounds of the village died down as the rain fell and the villagers retired for the night. The village and its people may have been considered a bit odd to an outsider. There was a nightly custom in this village. As the villagers left the tavern and went into their cottages, they made sure to douse their welcome mat with a cup of vinegar. Nobody knows why they do this, not even the villagers. Their mothers and fathers always told them to douse the mat with vinegar and to not leave the cottage until the sun came up. When they asked why, the adults told them that their mothers and fathers had said the same.

As the villagers were settling in for the night, a weary traveler arrived in the town on horseback. The traveler was not familiar with the village. He hitched his horse and stumbled into the tavern to find it was empty. There was no one to buy a room from, so the traveler checked behind the desk. He grabbed the key to cottage #13 and grabbed an ale from the bar and left a few coins on the desk for them in the morning. As he crossed the street looking for cottage #13, the traveler was deep in thought, wondering why there were no people around or carriages on the road. He found all this very curious but tried to not let his mind wander. After all, he’d only be here for one night, and he was just passing through. The traveler fit the rusty key into the door of the cottage and walked through the door. As he entered, he noticed a bucket of water right by the door frame. The traveler spread his coat across the bed and stripped off his only set of clothes. He grabbed a towel and the bucket of water and headed for the bathtub in the corner of the room. He wet the towel and was about to apply it to his hair when his nose caught a whiff and he realized the substance in the bucket was actually vinegar. Bewildered, he got out of the tub and decided to go to sleep before the night got any stranger. As he was falling asleep, he thought about how odd it was that there were no windows in the small cottage. “Oh well, at least I can sleep in.” he thought as he closed his eyes.

The next morning, a young girl named Mary opened up the tavern. She was fifteen years old and had been essentially running the tavern since her boss, Mr. Bell, had gone to France for business. She immediately noticed the coins on the desk. She checked behind the desk and found the key to cottage #13 was missing. She knew it had to be Mr. Adams. For the last several months, Henry Adams had been sneaking around with other women behind his wife’s back and had been using the cottage’s owned by the tavern. Irritated, Mary walked across the street and knocked on the door to the cottage multiple times. There was no response. Even more exasperated, Mary pulled a master key from her pocket and slowly opened the door. She screamed. There was blood stained all over the walls, floor and bed. All that was left of the weary traveler was an entire skeleton of bones on the bed. The police were called in and of course, they could not identify the man. None of the villagers were missing. The only clue they found in the cottage was a tiny trail of yellow slime on the rug. To this day, the villagers still didn’t know why they pour vinegar on their mats, but every single one made sure to use a full bucket that following night.