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Post by Deleted on Jan 21, 2012 1:06:19 GMT -5
Rhonda Anderson
Rhonda shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She didn’t like being this far from home. Why she agreed to meet him here, she didn’t know. The restaurant was nearly deserted, a few people scattered through the large room; talking quietly amongst themselves. She noticed she was the only one sitting alone. Her wrinkled silk shirt and jeans were just as out of place as she felt. Everyone else wore slacks and button down shirts or expensive looking dresses. The room was dark and warm; with red velvet chairs surrounding small tables draped in delicate lace with beautiful bouquets of flowers lightly scenting the air. Rain lashed against the windows, blocking the view into field next to the parking lot.
“Come on Zack. Don’t let me down again.” She thought to herself.
She checked the letter he sent her again. ‘Be at the restaurant of the Sterling Hotel at 5:00’ it said. It was now 5:25 and there was no sign of her brother. The lights flickered.
“Oh great, now I’m going to have to deal with a power outage too?” She mumbled.
Smoothing the letter out on the table, she re-read it for the hundredth time; curling her long auburn hair around her fingers.
Hey sis. I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from, but I could use your help. I’m getting released soon and I need a ride home. I can get as far as the Sterling Hotel, so if you could pick me up there, that would be great. Be there at 5:00 on Saturday the 29th. We can meet up in the restaurant and catch up over dinner.
Zack
He was being released from the mental institution and he didn’t want her to pick him up there, which was odd, but didn’t bother her too much because she hated that place. The few times she had been forced to go there, it made her feel…wrong.
Living with her older brother had been hard. Rhonda had grown up listening to their dad constantly yelling at him for various things. He always used to get drunk and sneak in after curfew. The problem with that was he was a clumsy drunk and would inevitably knock something over and wake their parents up. He would skip class to hang out in graveyards and got into fights almost everywhere he went. Eventually his behavior got so bad that a court ordered him to be institutionalized until he turned 21. Their parents had stopped talking to him last year, after Rhonda turned 18. She still wrote to him, but the letters where always strained.
The lights flashed again.
The restaurant manager glided to the front of the room and cleared his throat. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I am sorry for this interruption, but it looks as if we may lose power soon. Our severing staff will be coming to each table to light candles for you. Your food will still be cooked and served with the same quality you expect from us.”
He smiled and nodded to the servers, who immediately began placing and lighting candles on the tables, their flickering glow calming Rhonda’s nerves. As the servers returned to their normal duties, the other guests’ conversations picked up; their voices getting louder. Rhonda caught snatched of conversation here and there.
“Didn’t they say they weren’t leaving until tomorrow?”
“We were supposed to meet up for drinks. You’d think a guy staying here by himself wouldn’t run out on a potential score.”
“I heard a scream from her room two nights ago, and haven’t seen her since. Keith, the desk clerk, said she checked out in the middle of the night but it’s not like my sister to just leave like that without saying anything”
Two minutes later, a nice looking, slightly harried couple walked in and was seated at the table next to her.
“Hello,” The woman said, turning to her.
“Hi,” Rhonda flashed an uncomfortable smile.
“I’m Hillary, and this is my husband Patrick.” The woman smiled, indicating herself and the man with her.
Rhonda smiled again and introduced herself. Even if she didn’t want to talk to them that much, her mother had raised her to at least be polite in such circumstances. The waiter sidled up to her table. “Would you like to order now Miss?”
Rhonda huffed. If Zack wasn’t going to show up on time, she wasn’t going to wait for him so she could eat. “Yeah, I’ll have the Chicken Marsalis with Caesar Salad.”
“Very good.” The waiter jotted down her order, tucked her menu under his arm, and marched off to the kitchen.
The couple next to her kept up an incessant chatter, occasionally asking her questions. Trying to be nice, Rhonda kept up as best she could, nodding occasionally with a weak smile plastered to her face. It seemed like they had been sitting there forever when the waiter finally delivered her food and refilled her coffee. She used the plate as an excuse not to speak, and keep her eyes down. She would prefer being alone to being stuck in a pointless conversation with someone she didn’t know.
The bellhop walked up to them half way through her meal, a girl not much younger than Rhonda in tow. She looked scared out of her wits, and the bellhop seemed furious. It seemed the girl was caught wondering around somewhere out of bounds, and from her parent’s reactions, this wasn’t unusual. The father introduced them:
“Rhonda, this is Mary. Mary, this is Rhonda.”
“Coffee steals souls, you know” Mary joked.
Her mother scolded her lightly.
“No, it’s alright. In a way it’s true. I am a slave to the bean juice.” Rhonda’s smile brightened a bit. This kid was ok.
She had met people who scared her (the mental hospital her brother stayed in was full of them), people who depressed her, like the couple next to her, and people she honestly wanted to stab in the genitals (some people simply should not procreate) but this kid had some potential. She was obviously scared, yet she kept the truth from her parents to protect them, or herself. It didn’t matter. What did matter was that, like herself, Mary knew went to lie.
After two hours, she knew he wouldn't be coming. She tried not to let it get to her. She'd known from the beginning that there was a very slim chance that he would actually show up, but still she's allowed herself to hope. Her eyes burned from hold back tears, and there was a lump in her throat that felt like a ball of barbed wire. But she refused to cry. She had sworn a long time ago that she would never shed tears over him again. But damn if she didn't want to. damn if it didn't feel as if a part of her was dying. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all. How could she invest so much of her happiness into the whims of the one person who was always hurting her.
Rhonda lay in bed awake, the raging storm outside keeping her awake. Under the sound of the rain pelting her window, she heard a soft noise like labored breathing. At first she thought it was coming from the room next door, but then she realized it was much closer. It sounded like it was in the room with her. The seconds ticked by, her watched slowed to a crawl. Finally, it took one long, ragged breath in then stopped. Something clicked, like claws against wood. It clicked again, closer. Another click, louder this time. It was under the bed! She cowered under the sheets, too afraid to move. She wanted desperately to turn on the light, but the power was still out. Whatever it was shifted and grabbed onto the bedframe. She could hear its claws creeping closer. It slithered onto the bed, a long appendage reaching toward her. Throwing off the covers, Rhonda bolted from the bed, smacking into the wall. She wrenched open the door and threw herself into the hall, sprinting to the lobby. Skidding to a halt at the desk, she stared wide eyed at the clerk.
“Something’s…in my…room” She panted
“What is in your room Ma’am?” The man asked.
“Don’t know…couldn’t see…too dark.” “Then how do you know something was in there?” He raised an eyebrow at her.
Rhonda wanted to throttle him. “Because I heard it!” She growled, finding her breath.
“I’ll have someone check it out. Please, have a seat.” He nodded towards the sitting area.
Rhonda crossed the room slowly and lowered herself, still shaking, into a huge wing backed chair. Fifteen minutes ticked by with Rhonda jumping every time a lightning bolt illuminated the bay windows behind her, casting eerie shadows along the Persian rug. A large older woman hobbled into the room, a flashlight clutched in one wrinkled hand.
“Nothing in room,” she said in a thick Russian accent. “I check all over. Only way in and out is door. Come, I take you back there.” She turned and headed back the way she came.
The flashlight’s beam danced in front of the two women as they made their way to Rhonda’s room. The old woman pointed the light inside.
“Maybe animal come in out of storm. With ruckus you cause, no animal want to be in whole side of building.” She smiled weakly. “I leave candle and matches on bedside just in case.” She pointed an unsteady finger to the flickering candle on the nightstand. “You need anything else?”
“No,” Rhonda said softly. She felt sorry for dragging the poor woman out of bed.
“Nighty night then.” She replied wearily, and then trudged off.
Rhonda closed the door quietly behind her and climbed into bed. She was exhausted. The last thing she saw before the candle snuffed out was a huge pale gray, winged figure, its bones jutting out at sharp angles from its thin skin and thick strings of saliva dripping from long, shinning white fangs.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 21, 2012 1:09:46 GMT -5
The Harvells
“Where did all this rain come from? The weatherman said it was supposed to be clear all weekend!” Charlotte complained as she and her husband Dan ran inside the lobby, heads covered by the morning newspaper.
Charlotte unfastened the buttons on her black trench coat, revealing a floral patterned knee length dress, slightly damp from the rain. Her normally curly black hair hung lank and soaked around her shoulders.
“Don’t look at me. I didn’t call this storm up.” Dan replied, his voice much drier than his clothes.
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Well at least we arrived at the hotel safely.”
Still dripping on the carpet, they walked up to the front desk to check in. The interior was decorated in Victorian style. Tall pillars lined the entryway, surrounded by ornate gold and silver framed mirrors and paintings. An enormous fireplace dominated one wall, with comfortable wing-backed chairs arranged around it in a semi-circle, a Persian rug protecting the wooden floor of the sitting area. The mahogany front desk was small and elegantly carved. Random flashes of lightning bathed the furnishings in pale white, momentarily turning the whole lobby into a parade of hovering ghosts and reaching monsters. At once they felt out of place in the opulence and completely at home in the mysterious, forgotten feel of the room. It was as if the building was pulled, completely intact, from the pages of a history book, its’ sprawling, vaulted rooms more at home in high-end London in the late 1800’s than 2011 Kansas farmland.
“Good evening Ma’am, Sir. Do you have a reservation?” The man at the desk asked.
“Yes we do. Dan Harvell. We booked last month.” Dan said, pulling out the receipt from his jacket pocket.
His black slacks were soaked to the knee; his white dress shirt dotted with moisture. He ran his hand through his light brown hair, shaking out the rain.
“Very good Sir,” The clerk stated after studying the paper carefully. He typed a few keystrokes into his computer, then handed the couple their keys. “Sam!” He called, ringing a small bell on the counter.
A pimple faced teenage bellhop appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, ready to take their bags; he led them to their room, not speaking. Sam would occasionally leer at them out of the corner of his eye, smirking to himself.
Charlotte felt uneasy at the teen’s creepy demeanor. Dan snickered behind his hand upon seeing his wife’s discomfort, not having noticed Sam’s expressions. Charlotte gave him a dirty look.
“Some second honeymoon this is turning out to be.” She grumbled once the Sam had left and Dan had closed the door.
“Oh don’t start that. This weekend still has a lot of potential left. Give it a chance will you?” Dan sighed, hanging his jacket next to his wives’ to dry.
Charlotte wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck, kissing him gently on the lips. She laced her fingers through his still damp blond hair, letting the tiny rivulets of water run down her delicate wrists.
“I know you’re trying, it’s just so different being in a place like this. I feel like we would be better suited in a tent in the woods.” she whispered. “How about we make good use of this bed?” smiling seductively, she pulled Dan to the bed and pushed him onto it.
Hand in hand, they walked down to the restaurant, finally dry and warm. Whispers had been circulating around the hotel that some of the other guests had gone missing, disappearing in the middle of the night without a word to their friends or family. Charlotte voiced her concern to her husband. She could handle monsters in the middle of no-where, but suggest a serial killer, or kidnaper, and she was shaking in her boots.
“That’s nothing to worry about Charlotte, people are probably just checking out in the middle of the night, or even during the day and not telling the people whom they just met. Besides, it couldn’t possibly be worse than the Sal’awa attacks.” Dan replied, patting her hand. “Let’s just focus on having fun this weekend.”
A few glasses of wine with dinner, and Charlotte had loosened up enough to no longer care about the rumors. The power-outage and subsequent lighting of many candles around the restaurant only added to the romantic feelings the alcohol instilled in her. Tipsy, she had made her way to the lobby to join some of the other guests around the roaring fireplace on the arm of a slightly buzzed Dan.
“I love you and all those crazy things you get us to do when hunting down monsters.” She said, smiling up at him, her eyes glassy.
Dan smirked. “I love you too sweet cheeks!”
Sitting by the fire, Charlotte curled herself into Dan’s lap, utterly relaxed.
“Hi!” Another couple beamed at them. They had been drinking as well.
“Hi!” They both waved.
“Oh my God, Dan, with the power out and the rain and us sitting around a fire, this would be the perfect time to tell ghost stories!” Charlotte said a little too loudly, giggling.
The other guests perked up.
“Ghosts stories? I haven’t heard a good ghost story since I went to camp!” one man said.
He leaned forward into the light, and Dan could see he was dressed in a black dress shirt with the first few buttons undone, revealing a muscular chest. His hair was arranged just so in a shark-fin style and his teeth shone pearly white, even in the dim lighting.
Excited chatter picked up, everyone wanted to hear a truly terrifying ghost story.
“Who has the best story?” the man asked.
“Well, the lady suggested it, so why don’t we let her go first?” someone said.
Charlotte smiled evilly, cleared her throat, and began: “The reports had been on the radio all day, though Amy hadn't paid much attention to them. Some crazy man had escaped from the state asylum, the reports said. They were calling him the Hook Man because he had lost his right arm in a horrible accident and had it replaced with a large hook. He had killed over a dozen people before being locked up, and everyone in the region was warned to keep watch and report anything suspicious. But this didn't interest her. She was more worried about what to wear on her date.
After several consultation calls with friends, she chose a pink, tightfitting outfit with a pink leopard print faux leather jacket and was ready and waiting on the porch when her boyfriend Rory came to pick her up in his soft-top Mustang. They went to a drive-in movie with another couple, then dropped them off and went parking in the local lover's lane. The pink outfit was a hit, and she cuddled close to her boyfriend as they kissed to the sound of romantic music on the radio.
Then the announcer came on and repeated the warning she had heard that afternoon. An insane killer with a hook in place of his right hand was loose in the area. Suddenly, the dark, moonless night didn't seem so romantic to her. The lover's lane was secluded and off the beaten track. A perfect spot for a deranged mad-man to lurk, she thought, pushing her amorous boyfriend away.
"Maybe we should get out of here," she said. "That Hook Man sounds dangerous."
"Awe, c'mon babe, it's nothing," her boyfriend said, trying to get in another kiss. She pushed him away again.
"No, really. We're all alone out here. I'm scared," she said.
They argued for a moment. A screeching sound scraped along the side of the car, then the whole frame shook lightly for a moment, as if something…or someone…had scraped against it, trying to get it.
She gave a shriek and said: "Get us out of here now!"
"Jeeze," her boyfriend said in disgust, but he turned the key and went roaring out of the lover's lane with a screeching of his tires.
They drove home in stony silence, and when they pulled into her driveway, he refused to help her out of the car.
‘He is being so freaking unreasonable!’ she fumed to herself.
She opened the door indignantly and stepped into her driveway with her chin up and her lips set. Whirling around, she slammed the door as hard as she could. And then she screamed.
Her boyfriend leapt out of the car and caught her in his arms. "What is it? What's wrong?" he shouted.
Then he saw it. A bloody hook hung from the handle of the passenger-side door.”
Everyone shivered.
“Good one!” The man said, “I haven’t heard that since I was eight. You tell it quiet well.” The group nodded in agreement.
Charlotte beamed at him. “Thank you.”
“May I be permitted to go next?” he asked.
Waiters passed around complementary cups of hot cocoa and marshmallows as the stranger began his story.
“There once was a girl I knew who had a sweet golden lab that would lie under her bed at night. Whenever she was frightened, she would put her hand over the side of the bed, and the dog would lick it, meaning everything was all right.
One night, the girl was home alone and had been watching horror movies in the dark. She kept hearing strange noises coming from different rooms, like someone was creeping around the house, but thought it was just her overactive imagination reacting to the scary movie. Just before bed, she watched the news and saw a report on a man who had escaped from a near-by prison. The noise she kept hearing seemed to follow her to her room, so she put her hand over the side of the bed, and the dog licked it.
The next morning, she searched high and low for her beloved dog, but found no sign of him. Worried he might be sick, she went back upstairs to look under her bed. Next to her bed, on the side she didn’t use, lay a bloody knife, and the butchered body of her beloved pet. On the dog was a note, scrawled in an untidy hand that said:
“Humans can lick, too.””
The group shivered again. The woman across from Charlotte and Dan held her hand to her mouth, like she was afraid she might throw up.
“Nice one,” Dan winked at him.
“How about the story of the woman who died on the altar right after she said ‘I Do’?” A woman said.
“Oh, I think I’ve heard this one!” A few other women said, eager.
“Well, as you know, there was a woman about to get married, but she couldn’t afford to get an expensive dress, but she found a stunningly beautiful one at a thrift store. She tried it on, and if fit like a glove, so she bought it.
When she walked down the aisle, she knew she was sweating more than normal, but she thought it was just nerves. During the vows, she started to get uncomfortable but again, she thought it was nerves and didn’t say anything. The couple said their ‘I Do’s’ and just when the preacher said it was time to kiss the bride, she collapsed, dead before she hit the floor. The coroner discovered she had died by absorbing formaldehyde through her skin, and found trace amounts of it all over her dress. The police questioned the thrift shop she bought it from and after a little digging, found out that the people who donated the dress to them, had pulled it off a corpse just before it was buried!”
Women all over the room wiped away tears, saddened by the idea that the poor woman in the story died during her wedding. “Nice.” Charlotte smiled. “Anyone else have a good story?” She asked.
“I do,” a voice said from just outside the light.
“Well then step forward and tell your tale,” the man said.
A woman in a maid’s uniform walked slowly forward.
“If I tell you this, you may not be able to go to sleep tonight.” She said, smirking.
“That only makes us want to hear it more!” someone piped up.
“All right then. This is a story my Babushka told me, who saw it first hand in the old country when she was a child. In Russia, legend has it that a monster stalks the forests and farms near towns, killing and eating people whenever it can. If you were smart, you could control one.
In a village not far from where my family lived, people would occasionally go missing, arts of their bodies sometimes would be found in the forest, but usually no one ever saw any part of a person once they disappeared. In my Babushka’s village, there was a tavern famous for its wonderful soups roasts. When she was twelve, her parents sent her to work for the tavern cleaning dishes. Her mother, who was very jealous of the cook there, told Babushka that she must watch the cook, and find out how she made her food so delicious.
Babushka watched and waited for a long time, trying to be a good girl for her mother and find out the cook’s secret, but the food would already be set out or cooking when she got to work. One day, when she had been told she could go home for the night, she hid outside by the back door to watch. When she thought no one was around, the cook walked outside, right past Babushka and called to something in the dark.
“Come to me my pet!” She said.
And out of the shadows came a huge, gray creature with dripping white fangs. The creature was carrying a ripped up body in its sharp claws. The cook took the body inside and told the creature to go away.
“I’ll give you your scraps in the morning.” She said.
Inside, the cook set to work chopping up what was left of the body, filleting the skin away from the meat with a skilled hand. She put wrapped large sections of meat in paper to keep out the flies, and put its eyes and fingers and organs into the giant stew pot on the fire to cook over night. All that was left was the person’s head.
Babushka ran all the way home, horrified by what she had seen. She told her mother, who called the police. That night, the police raided the tavern and uncovered not one head, but several tucked away in a dark cupboard. The cook and her husband, the tavern owner, were arrested and flogged in public. The villagers were sickened and outraged that the cook and the tavern owner would feed them, their neighbors, human meat. And investigation into the disappearances from the other towns revealed that the severed heads belonged to all the people who had gone missing in the last month.”
She finished her story amid gaping faces. Everyone was terrified. Some of them knew that people had gone missing from here, and that the food was very good.
“And where is your grandmother now?” The man sitting across from the Harvells asked, holding his wife tight.
“Come on sis, we need to say goodnight to Grandma,” Sam the bellhop said, his face half lit by the fire, the other half plunged into darkness.
“Oh, she’s the cook here.” The maid said, grinning from ear to ear. “Good night everybody.” She waved as she walked away.
Every person in the group sat staring wide eyed at each other, stunned into silence.
“That was…the…best…story…ever!” Charlotte exclaimed. “You don’t hear stories like that anymore! Oh Dan, we must tell our backer about it so we can go to Russia!”
A few people looked confused.
“Umm, what do you two do for a living?” Someone asked.
“We’re monster hunters.” Dan said matter-of-factly.
“Yeah, right,” the stranger with the hair fin said.
“Really,” Charlotte smiled sweetly at him. “We hunt monsters. Someone pays us to go all over the world to see if the legends about local monsters are real. We’ve gone to Egypt and Japan and Cambodia and Guam and a lot of other places too.”
The man looked impressed. “So you’re like the guys from that show on SYFY, but without the TV cameras.”
“That’s it, exactly!” Dan and Charlotte said together.
“Tell us about some of your expeditions!” he suggested.
A playful glint shone in the man’s eye as he adjusted himself in his chair. He was like a little boy asking for another scary story before bed, delighted to be regaled with tales of monsters and creatures that go bump in the night.
“Where should we start?” Charlotte asked her husband.
“Hmm,” Dan thought. “How about Guam?”
“Guam it is then!” She replied. “We had been sent to the jungle in Guam to look for zombies. Well, zombie-like ghosts. They are known as The Toatoamona we had to ask a local tribesman from the Chamora to do a ritual for us to protect us, and help us see the Taotoamona. The jungle was treacherous, and we barely escaped unscathed. We had to make sure we didn’t touch certain trees or rocks.
We kept hearing strange squeaking noises, but the ever resourceful Dan discovered it was only the wind shaking the trees. Our EMF detector went nuts when we set it on a rock, and our EVP recorder caught moaning several times! Halfway through the first night, we found a huge cave lined in spiders and cockroaches. It was dark and hot inside, and when we entered, we heard a loud, bone rattling moan. It couldn’t have been the wind because there was no breeze at the time. Something was in the dark, waiting for us. We had to abseil into a lower part of the cave, but we couldn’t find the bottom. We went back outside, and tried talking to the spirits using a K2 meter, and when we were about to stop, one of our crew felt a hand on his back, like he had been pushed.” She paused for effect. This, she said slowly: “When we looked on his back with our thermal imager, it showed a giant, red handprint.”
Random ‘woahs’ popped up around the crowd. Everyone was captivated.
“In Egypt, we came face to face with the Sal’awa” Dan said, his voice lowered into a spooky drawl. “In several villages near Luxor, people were reporting Sal’awa attacks Sal’awa means ‘scary wolf’. These people were terrified of the big dog that would sneak into their village and eat people. It most loved children, who couldn’t fight back.
The creature attacking these people was said to live in fields with a lot of cover around, like sugar cane and farmland. A group of men in one village reportedly chased a Sal’awa into a sugar cane field after it mauled a local child. For two nights, we searched and for two nights, we heard loud howls and menacing growling. As each night progressed, the growling would become louder and louder as we approached the animal’s den. On the second night, we were closing in on it, having seen huge, dark shadows run around us, just out of sight. The growling got even louder as we surrounded its den. Just as we reached the entrance, it jumped out at us!”
The rapt group jumped.
“It was hideous. Large and furry with pointed ears and stripped fir, its muscular back legs, which were longer than its front, propelled it toward us, its’ snapping jaws inches away from taking out my arm and Charlottes’ ear. It tried to run off, but we gave chase. It tore off into the village. We tried to stop it, to direct it anywhere but toward civilization, but it was too late. It burst through the field and onto a village road where it was shot by a game warden. He tried to convince us it was just a rabid dog, but we know better.” Dan and Charlotte exchanged knowing looks.
The man with the hair fin glanced down at his watch. “Wow!” he said, “It’s past midnight. I should be turning in so I don’t fall asleep on the road tomorrow.”
He yawned, rose to his feet, and stretched, his joints popping like pieces of chalk snapping in half. There was a general murmur of agreement as others followed suit. When most of the guests had wondered off in the direction of their rooms, Charlotte turned to her husband.
“What do you say we go to our room and continue the fun in bed?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows.
Dan grinned at her, stood up, and carried his wife in his arms all the way to their pitch black room. Fumbling around in the dark, he searched for the stand that held the couples’ luggage and pulled the miniature battery operated lantern he always packed out of his suitcase, setting it on the bed side table.
Coming to stand behind Charlotte, he swept her hair to one side and kissed the side of her neck tenderly. His firm hands slid down her shoulders, caressing her smooth skin. She leaned into him, a soft moan escaping her lips. His hands slowly traced her back; unzipping her dress deftly, he kissed a line down her now exposed spine. She shuddered. Dan gripped her hips, holding her in place as he licked the hollow of her lower back. Charlotte reached up, slipping her dress from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Turning to face him, she lifted his chin gently, bringing him back up to a standing position. She guided his hands to her waist, letting his fingers trail down to her lacy black underwear. They kissed passionately, their lips mashing together in their fevered embrace.
Dan slowly unclasped Charlotte’s bra as she unbuttoned his shirt, letting her hands linger on the smooth expanse of his abdomen. She stepped back and allowed him to pull her bra off and toss it onto the desk. Still hungry for his lips, she pressed herself into him, her arms threading around his neck, pulling him closer. They fell to the bed, giggling in their buzzed, highly aroused state. Dan stood, kicking off his shoes and socks, he yanked down his pants, his erect member straining against the fabric of his boxers. Climbing to her knees, Charlotte stroked the bulge with a feather-light touch, teasing him. Dan sighed, his eyes half closed in bliss. Holding Dan’s hips in a firm grip, Charlotte leaned forward and pulled his boxers off with her teeth. His erection sprung out like a jack out of its box, making her giggle again. She leaned back, letting him tug her panties down her slender legs, leaving only her stockings.
They rolled around on the bed, their bodies intertwine, their hands everywhere. Charlotte pinned Dan beneath her, mounting him. She was rocking back and forth, relishing in the sensation of him inside of her when a muffled bang made them jump.
“What was that?” Charlotte asked.
“It’s nothing. Probably someone in the next room getting a little rough.” Dan said, sitting up and stroking her sides.
The bang sounded again, this time shaking the wall slightly. Dan stopped, realizing this wasn’t just two people having fun.
Hurriedly throwing on some clothes, the couple grabbed a flashlight each, and rushed out the door. Worried someone might be hurt, Dan knocked on the door of the next room.
“Hello? Is anyone in there?” He said.
There was no answer. He knocked again, louder this time. Still there was no answer.
“If you don’t answer, I’m coming in!” He shouted over the rolling thunder.
When no one answered, he threw open the door, flashlight held high, like a weapon. The beam of Charlotte’s flashlight danced around the room, searching for the source of the disturbance. There was nothing there.
An old woman came hobbling into view, her wrinkled face clearly annoyed.
“What now? What are you doing?” She said in a thick Russian accent.
“We just heard a noise in this room, something made the wall rattle. We were making sure no one was hurt.” Charlotte said.
“No one in room. Girl check out half hour ago. You go back to own room now.” The woman said, shooing them back toward their room.
Dan cast one last confused look back in the room as he and his wife walked back to bed, the woman staring at them, hands on hips, until they closed the door firmly behind them. They hardly slept that night, their senses on red alert. Every noise was a potential threat, every flash of lightning stinging their tired eyes. The rain finally stopped around three am, and they fell asleep shortly afterwards, wrapped in each other’s arms.
Charlotte shifted in her sleep, dreams flooding her head. She was standing in front of a mirror, brushing her hair. She noticed a black spot on her cheek, and touched it. As her finger pressed lightly to the spot, it grew, weeding out over her face and covering it in vines and patches of necrotized flesh. The dead skin was deep black, shaded with purple and green, oozing a yellowish liquid from her muscles, but they too soon turned black and flaked off when she desperately tried to make it stop. She stared at herself, horrified, utterly speechless. She tried to scream, but no noise came out. Reaching out with a fist, she smashed the mirror, letting the glass fall down around her. A single shard remained in the frame and in it she could see a sliver of her face, completely normal. Turning this way and that, she inspected her skin, unblemished and tanned as usual. Something moved behind her; she spun around, not knowing what to expect next, but nothing was there: absolutely nothing. Not a single piece of furniture or floor or wall. White light glowed around her, making her shield her eyes from the brightness. The light pulsed, getting brighter and brighter, before going completely black. Her heart pounded, her breath caught in her throat. Something was in the darkness, staring at her. Something large and slightly lighter than the darkness surrounding her bounded forward, its’ hot putrid breath making her skin crawl. A scream ripped from her mouth and the thing disappeared, letting her sleep in relative peace.
While Charlotte slept, Dan had a nightmare of his own: He was in a dark house at night, alone; it was too quiet. A thundering sound echoed from the roof like hundreds of small feet stomping down in a line, landing with deep thuds on the ground outside the window
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Post by Deleted on Jan 21, 2012 1:11:36 GMT -5
He tiptoed forward, afraid to look, knowing he must. Highly visible in the light of the full moon, was a snow drift. He laughed at himself, scared by a falling snow drift. Soft footsteps padded behind him. He turned around expecting to see Charlotte’s smiling face, a cup of cocoa with extra marshmallows in each hand. Instead, a short figure dressed all in blood red, with a ski mask pulled low over their face stood staring at him. Something in their hand glimmered in the light reflecting off the snow, a scalpel. Dan ran for his life, but every time he turned a corner, or opened a door, the figure was there, brandishing the scalpel at him. He blinked and he was lying naked on a table, the cold metal making him shiver. Leather straps on his wrists, ankles, and neck held him in place, restricting his movement. The figure stood over him, and although he couldn’t see their face, he knew who ever it was, was smiling widely. He screamed, but the figure pulled another leather strap over his mouth, silencing him. The figure stood there for a long time, smiling under their mast, before lowering their scalpel to his arm and peeling the flesh away from his muscles, working their way around his body. His skin lay in in bloody heaps by his feet, glistening wetly while the figure set to work ripping his muscles from his bones. Tears streamed from his eyes, stinging the bloody mess that was his face. The figure threw the muscles to the floor, and then tore his organs away, letting each connection rip slowly from its mate. They saved his eyes for last, using a moldy wooden spoon to scoop them out, lifting their mask just high enough to place each one in their mouth and chew, grinning the whole time. His skeleton still screamed wordlessly, agony overtaking it.
The morning dawned cold and gray. They were stiff from sleeping sitting up; the battery powered lantern’s light was dimmed low with draining power. The early morning silence was unnerving. Having traveled the world and heard hundreds of sound that would scare even the most skeptical of people, the only thing that disturbed them was the unnatural, ungodly silence that rang through their ears after the storm died down. Nothing good ever happened in silence like that. Hearing a commotion from coming from the front of the building, they dashed into the lobby to find a mob of frantic guests trying to escape through the front door, which wouldn’t budge. The flustered clerk that checked them in last night was attempting to be herd over the cacophony.
“The doors are automated. Without power, they won’t open.” He said.
The room exploded with fearful conversation. It seemed another woman had disappeared in the middle of the night, and since no one could get out, everyone’s thoughts had turned to someone or something taking the guests.
“Did anyone know what room she stayed in?” Charlotte called over the din.
No one did. She turned to the clerk.
“Can you tell us what room? Keith.” She said, reading his nametag.
“No. Revealing anything about our guests is against our policy. Suffice it to say she checked out last night when the power temporarily flashed back on.”
Whispers threaded themselves through the group. No one had seen the power come back on, even for a short time. Events at the hotel were becoming more and more worrisome to the monster hunting Harvells. In hushed tones, they discussed all the disappearances with the other guests, trying to garner as much information as they could.
“It started Friday” A blond woman in a track suit said. “I spoke to a few guests that were here before me. Everything was fine Thursday, but Friday night was when the first person went missing.”
“Saturday morning, three more people disappeared. They had just checked in when I met them, and we made plans to meet for lunch. They never showed. I asked the clerk if he knew where they were, and he said they had to leave.” Said a redheaded man in jeans and a green t-shirt.
A woman in a short blue dress spoke next, “I was supposed to meet a cute guy for drinks last night, but he never showed up.”
“Then that woman disappeared last night. She was meeting her brother, but he didn’t show up so she was going to wait out the storm here before looking for him.” Said the woman they had met last night. “And I haven’t seen that guy we met last night. You know, the one with the hair-fin?”
A few people looked around, noticed he wasn’t there, and nodded in agreement.
“So that’s seven people, at least, vanishing in the last two days. Does anyone know what rooms these people stayed in?” Dan said.
No one did. The crowd fell deathly quiet. The realization that so many people had gone missing in such a short span of time hit them like wrecking ball to the chest.
“Ok everyone, we’ll formulate a plan, then take a look around. Everyone needs to stay together. Don’t go wondering off alone.” Charlotte said.
She and Dan walked back to their room, whispering under their breath to each other.
“So what angle are we going for? Ghost or cryptid? Charlotte whispered.
“Cryptid. A ghost wouldn’t have been able to make the wall shake like that.” Dan said.
“damn. I just realized we don’t have our normal equipment.” Charlotte cursed.
“It’s ok. Our flashlights will have to do. We should probably also find some sort of weapons. If we find this thing, we’re going to have to act fast.”
“If it made the wall shake, and can take down several people in two days without anyone seeing it, a weapon probably won’t do us any good. I say we look for a possible hiding place, and clues to what exactly it could be before we go looking for the thing itself.”
Dan nodded, formulating a search plan in his head. “Ok. We get our flashlights, then you head upstairs and search the two uppermost levels, I’ll take the bottom two and find out if there’s a basement. We’ll meet back in the lobby in two hours’ time.”
“Got it. Have you ever noticed that we go looking for things that people say kill people all the time? It happens to be the reason you’re a walking, talking example of ‘so crazy, it just might work’.” Charlotte said, walking a little faster.
“Thank you.” Dan grinned down at her. “I think.”
Flashlights in hand, Charlotte kissed Dan lightly on the mouth and headed off to search her designated floors. They crept from room to room, searching every nook and cranny they could find, as quickly as possible. Dan finished first, having found that the ‘basement’ was a small storage area below the lobby, accessible by a trap door in a service corridor. Charlotte continued on, slowly working her way down from the uppermost floor. She had searched her last room when she found a narrow staircase hidden behind a thick drape. It was tight and dusty, and led to the floor below, directly into a dark, windowless room. The door at the small landing was slightly ajar, revealing a glimpse of pitch blackness behind it.
Charlotte pressed lightly against the wood with her fingertips; it swung open with a high pitched creak. Steeling herself, she shone the flashlight into the room and stepped forward. The light barely penetrated the thick darkness, illuminating only the ground in front of her. Tilting the beam up, the contents of the room slowly came into view. Hanging from large meat hooks attached to runners in the celling where the bloody, torn up bodies of no less than twelve people. Blood decorated the floor in a swirling, spotted pattern like a grotesque Jackson Pollock painting.
She choked back a scream. The body nearest to her was that of a young man, no older than 25. His short black hair stood out in stark contrast to his sallow alabaster skin. Shreds of a white t-shirt clung to his scrawny frame, blue jeans hung in tattered ribbons from his waist and a single dirty tennis shoe dangled limply beneath him, the other foot had been viciously ripped off. He looked like a malnourished child; someone who hadn’t seen the sun in a long time. He was someone who desperately needed a mother’s love. Charlotte tried frantically to wipe the stream of tears from her eyes and clear her vision. The state of this poor man was so distressing she almost forgot about the other corpses. Sticking out from his pocket was a neatly folded piece of paper, the only thing on him that appeared to be intact. She reached out for it, hand trembling. Clutching the paper between her fingers, she dashed toward a door on the adjacent wall, praying it would lead into the hall. It did. She bolted out, slamming the door behind her.
Unfolding the paper with trembling hands, she began to read, sniffling into the near silence.
Zack,
I got your letter, and will be happy to pick you up. Only, why have us meet at a hotel? Why don’t you want me to pick you up at the hospital? Not that I’m complaining too much, that place gives me the creeps. Will you be ok getting to the hotel by yourself? Do you need me to bring you anything? Call me before you leave. It will be wonderful to see you again outside that wretched hospital. Do Mom and Dad know you’ve been released? Oh wait, stupid question. I’m sorry.
Lots of love, Rhonda
Tears stung her eyes, her chest heaved; Charlotte sank to the floor in a quivering heap. The horror of that room, the condition the bodies were in, burned into her eyelids. She knew she would never forget it for as long as she lived.
Her flashlight abandoned on the floor, she let her feet guide her to the lobby like a zombie. Her hand trailed on the wall beside her, the bumps and splinters the only thing keeping her from going completely numb.
Lightning flashed again, several bolts chasing the darkness, bathing the room in bright white light. Charlotte’s shaking frame appeared in the doorway like an apparition out of mist. Thunder drowned out the scream of the unsuspecting woman who spotted her out of the corner of her eye. Dan, who had been fidgeting with a fire poker, looked up. Realizing who was standing there, he sprinted to her, throwing the fire poker against the wall with a loud clatter.
“Charlotte, baby! Are you OK?” He held her tight in his arms. “What happened? You’re shaking like a leaf!”
He gently wiped the tears from her face, tilting her chin up to meet her gaze.
“I…I found…bodies. They were dismembered.” She whispered. “One of them had this,” She pulled the note out.
“Who are Rhonda and Zack?” He asked, scanning the paper.
Hillary’s head snapped up. “Rhonda and Zack? I met her in the restaurant last night. She had been waiting for her brother Zack. He never showed up and she disappeared last night.”
Dan carefully folded the paper back up, placing it in his back pocket. “I see. Honey, could you show me where you found this?”
She nodded meekly, still shivering. “Wait,” She paused, looking up at his face. “You aren’t thinking of going in there are you? It’s not safe! What if whoever killed those people catches us?” Her lip trembled.
“Charlotte, if someone is killing people, we’ll need more proof than a note. Besides, I’ll protect you.” He smiled, picking the fire poker back up.
“You realize this is a colossally stupid idea right?” Charlotte said, reluctantly leading her husband back to the room, keeping herself a respectable distance from the door in question.
Dan ignored her and crept forward, bent slightly; ready for a fight with the fire poker raised in both hands. He reached out, fingers hesitating inches from the knob. Inhaling deeply, he threw the door open, his hand returning to the poker. Staring into the room, confusion flashed across his face. He pulled a flashlight out of his side pocket and shone in through the door. Straightening up, he looked over at his wife.
“Are you sure this is the right room?”
“Positive.” She nodded.
“There’s nothing in here except some dirty meat hooks.”
Charlotte gave him a quizzical look.
“See for yourself if you don’t believe me.”
She took a step backwards, still frightened of seeing those bodies again.
“I’m telling you, there is nothing in here.” He held his hand out to her.
She took it cautiously, not sure if she completely believed him. He pointed the beam of light back into the room for her. Her tense shoulders fell, shock registering on her face.
“See?” He asked, looking down at her.
She stepped in, confused. “But…I saw them!” She turned, facing him.
Something huge and gray flashed past the open door, knocking Dan off his feet.
“Wha…?” He managed just before he was yanked violently out of view. A bloodcurdling scream ripped through the night, echoing down the halls after him.
“Dan!” Charlotte yelled, running to the door. It slammed shut in her face. “DAN!” She screamed, panic sending her voice several octaves higher.
She rattled the door knob furiously, banging her other fist against the hard wood, stabbing pain shooting down her wrist with each desperate knock.
“Someone help!!!!!!” She screeched. “DAN!!!!!!” She was sobbing now, her pitiful cries unheard by anyone who cared.
She threw her body against the door and she tumbled through, much to the surprise of the hotel employee standing by it.
“What are you doing in there Ma’am?” The woman asked. “Guests are not allowed to be back here.”
“I don’t care if I’m allowed to be back here or not! Something took my husband!” Charlotte wept, her voice cracking.
“Some…thing? Are you saying a nonhuman being took your husband?” The woman asked, her eyebrows creeping underneath the poof of bangs covering her forehead.
“You had to have seen it! It was huge and gray and CARRYING MY HUSBAND!” Charlotte cried.
She straightened up and ran flat out in the direction Dan had been drug, screaming his name and leaving the woman stunned behind her. Not knowing where he had been taken, Charlotte ran through halls and rooms, trying in vain to find him.
In a blackened room, guided only by occasional flashes of lightning in the long row of windows on one side, she sped forward. Tears still streaming down her cheeks, she stumbled over furniture again and again. Glass shattered next to her and cold air whipped through the room, water splattering against the floor and upholstery. Shards of the window glass lay glittering like jagged diamonds over every surface it could find. The gray creature shot in, clinging to the ceiling with long sinewy fingers ending in razor sharp claws; its hideous, expressionless face staring down at her from its high perch.
It jumped, flinging itself at her with inhuman strength to land directly in front of her, its clawed hands on either side of her trembling body. It scooped her up in a solid grip and Charlotte fainted, her head lolling back like a dolls as it climbed back out the window.
The sound of water was so overpowering, she thought for sure she was going to drown. Footsteps slapped wetly against the ground.
“How did I get outside?” She thought, trying to look around but seeing only darkness. She could feel the rain assailing her, each heavy drop like a pin prick against her skin. Her shirt had been ripped in two, her bra torn off and cast aside. Her hands slowly searched around her, trying not to draw attention to herself, feeling the soaked ground and ruined clothes.
“Stop it! You know you aren’t supposed to eat them outside where people can see you!” Someone shouted over the rain and thunder.
Who was talking? And why did they say that? It made no sense to her. The thing growled, its’ head lowering over her. She could feel its’ hot breath tickling her bare chest; steaming the air around them.
“I said stop! Take her somewhere else!” The voice said.
Sharp teeth sunk into her stomach; she tried to scream but nothing would come out. It bit down, splintering her spine. Charlotte coughed, blood trickling out of her mouth to join, swirling, together with the crimson river gushing from her belly. The blood pooled around her, carried by the rain to soak what was left of her clothes a deep red; her hair floating around her head in a riot of lank curls saturated with gore. A ripping noise. The creature tore a chunk of flesh from her side. She held on a moment longer, whispering Dan’s name before the pain overtook her and she blacked out.
The creature continued to eat her, chewing the soft flesh hungrily, lapping up her blood with its long tongue.
The owner of the anonymous feet left, grumbling:
“Stupid animal won’t even do as it’s told. What good is it? We should just send it back, we can live without its ‘help’.”
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Post by Deleted on Jan 21, 2012 1:12:34 GMT -5
The Browns
Mary huffed, exasperated. “This is sooooo boring!” She said loudly from the bed she had sprawled out across.
Being stuck in some stupid hotel in the middle of a storm with her parents was not her idea of a vacation. She could be in Florida with her best friend right now, but nooooo. Her mother just had to insist on going on some stupid trip to the middle of nowhere Kansas during storm season. The room wasn’t even interesting, just a bunch of wood and bad wallpaper that someone with absolutely no taste picked out. Who chooses white wallpaper with panels of pink and red flowers? The only good thing about it was that the storm and low lighting made it easier to ignore.
“Anna is probably lounging in the sun right now and I’m stuck here!” She started again when no one replied. “Gee mom, some great trip!”
“All right young lady, I’ve had quite enough of you for tonight. Why don’t you go explore or something? Give your mother and me some peace.” Her father responded.
“Whatever.” She mumbled, rolling off the bed and onto her feet.
“Meet us in the restaurant at 7!” Her mother called after her.
“ALLONS-Y!” Mary yelled, slamming the door behind her.
She shuffled off in the direction of the lobby, hoping to come across something interesting; her torn up jeans and scuffed combat boots scraping against the floor, keeping time with her steps. It wasn’t until she had wandered near the kitchen that she found anything she deemed worthy of her time. Her iPod was malfunctioning, playing only static when she stopped midway down a hall. The battery went dead and Mary sighed, annoyed. She had just been in the middle of Scars from Papa Roach which was one of their best songs, after Last Resort. Something thumped against a door next to her. She stared at it, startled when it thumped again. A female giggled inside. “Eeewwwwww!” She thought. “Someone’s getting it on in there!” She grinned wickedly. “Oh man, if I could get video of this, Anna would be so jealous!”
The thumping sounded like it was now on another wall, and Mary took her chance. She turned on the video function on her cellphone and slowly cracked the door open. Angling her phone, she tried to get a good shot, but all the screen was showing was shelves lined with bottles and cans. The woman giggled again, and then started to moan. Mary opened the door a little wider. The moans turned to soft screams as Mary found her mark. A woman’s arm and leg came into focus, both wrapped around a tall man standing in front of her, her skirt hitched up around her waist.
“Now this,” her face lit up like the flash of a bomb blast, “This is what’ I’m talking about.”
The two people where grinding together quickly, the woman’s screams getting louder. Metal crunched and something large and pale gray flashed by the camera, obscuring the view. The woman let out an ear-piercing scream, muffled slightly by the thick walls. Thinking she was about to be found, Mary closed the door as quietly and quickly as she could, and dashed down the hall, smirking the whole way.
The sound of approaching footsteps made her slow down. Mary tried to look as innocent as was possible for a somewhat demented teenage girl could be. Rounding the corner, she peeked out, checking to see if the coast was clear. A man and woman were walking in the opposite direction, talking to each-other and holding hands.
“Dan, did you hear what some of the other guests are saying? People have been disappearing from here lately!” The woman said, wide eyed
“That’s nothing to worry about Charlotte, people are probably just checking out in the middle of the night, or even during the day and not telling the people whom they just met. Besides, it couldn’t possibly be worse than the Sal’awa attacks.” Dan replied, sounding like this sort of conversation was not unusual to him.
She rolled her eyes and slipped out. Some people got worked up over nothing. But then it hit her, he said ‘Sal’awa’. Mary had seen Destination Truth enough times to know exactly what the Sal’awa was. Had the couple really been in Egypt and lived through the attacks? She would have to try to find out more later. The clock on her phone read five o’clock, plenty of time to do more snooping.
Mary didn’t hesitate to go through a door marked ‘off limits’ the second she saw it. It was in her nature to disobey rules and ignore warnings. She had wandered through the forbidden corridors for an hour, listening at keyholes for signs of life. The rooms were mostly empty on the second floor except for the occasional stack of chairs or pile of boxes filled with old linens. She spent the next ten minutes looking for some sort of library or something to pass the time. Even an old ballroom would have been nice, since the encroaching darkness would fill it with an eerie light, any furniture covered in sheets only enhancing the ghostly effect.
Then she found it, a giant room that must have taken up half the third floor. The once glistening floor now lay under an inch of dust, tables and chairs stacked against one wall, all hidden beneath graying sheets. Windows lined one wall, from floor to ceiling, allowing the lightning to show occasional glimpses of the overgrown field below. A bandstand jutted out of the far wall, an old microphone standing solitary on it, and Mary imagined a beautiful woman standing there in a silk dress, crooning to the dancers as the band played.
The unmistakable sounds of Toccata and Fugue in D minor blared from her pocket. Somehow, her IPod had turned itself back on. She stared at it for a moment, wondering how the song could possibly be playing on it. She didn’t remember downloading it. The music quickly overtook her and she began to dance and twirl along the floor, leaving swirls of dust clouds in her wake. For nine blissful minutes she was a princess dancing among her people, a ballerina in The Phantom of the Opera, reliving her childhood dreams, remembering tea parties and playing princess, the time before high school started, and she had to grow up. When the song was over, her friend Anna’s voice popped up.
“Hey Mar, I put this song on here to torture you. JK, JK. Really, I found it and thought of you because it’s so dark. Besides, didn’t you used to play it when you were in band?” She snickered and the track stopped.
Mary glared down at the little device. They had agreed to never mention her being in band ever again. It clashed horribly with the new image she was trying to achieve. She turned it off and stuffed it back into her pocket as she stalked angrily out of the room, muttering to herself about getting revenge.
“I should remind her of that video I have of her wearing her brother’s clothes and singing I like big butts” She said as she yanked the heavy door closed.
It was 6:40 and Mary was having trouble finding her way back to the lobby. All the hallways looked the same, and the only doorway that had sounds of life near it lead to the kitchen, in which she would most certainly be caught if she tried to sneak through. The only choice she thought she had was to go up.
The fourth floor proved slightly more fruitful for mischief, being the floor that housed the hotel staff. Room after room of neatly made beds, shelves filled with books and dressers with carefully folded clothes made up the first half of the level. They all appeared very similar, except one. The last bedroom Mary search had a large homemade quilt draped across the bed. The books on the shelf were written in some strange language she couldn’t understand. She was just about to move on to the next room when something under the bed caught her eye. It was a very old, very large book. The words where written in the same strange language, but the drawings where familiar.
“Oh, sweet!” She said, taking out her cell to take photos. “Someone around here has a serious hard-on for monsters.”
Having watched more than her fair share of horror movies, Mary could easily point out the werewolves, vampires, and ghosts. She may not have been able to read the captions, but some things transcend language. She flipped through the pages, finding different variations of the well-known monsters and ghouls she had come to love; Demons, Ghosts, Zombies and Vampires where the most commonly repeated entry, having about 10 variations each. The Woman in white, a Hook Man, some variation of Bloody Mary, Land and Water Spirits, Death Apparitions, even the Vanir where easily identified in the Ghost section, though why the Vanir was there, Mary didn’t know, because it was actually an old world God. Moving on to the next section, she recognized the Wendigo, shapeshifters (among them being the Werewolf), and what looked like a Rakshasa.
Pausing on a page labeled Shtriga, Mary scratched her head. This was something she had never seen before. It was hooded and pockmarked, with white eyes and something coming out of its mouth, possibly in reference to how it ate. Eleven pages where dedicated to just one Vampire entry, which had notes written in the margins in the same foreign language. It didn’t have a drawing, but clearly there was a vast description on it.
In the back of the book seemed to be a list of herbs and their uses. There where over one hundred listed, with little drawings next to each. Mary decided that either someone thought they were a witch, or they were really freaking boring.
Putting the book back, she stood up and walked back into the hall. Something in the next room moved. A box fell to the floor, clattering loudly. Mary jumped. She stood at the door and listened, holding her breath. Everything was quiet for several minutes when she finally decided to enter.
Opening the door, Mary reached inside, her hand tracing along the wall, probing for the light switch. It seemed like she was searching forever when her fingers finally touched the cold plastic. She flicked it. Nothing happened. She flicked it again, and the light spluttered, flickering weakly. Mary felt uneasy, like something could pop out of the darkness at any moment. The light flared slowly to life.
The room was stark; the few pieces of furniture left had been covered in white sheets. She stepped forward. Something dark flitted past the wall to her left, just out of sight. Turning quickly, she looked for its source. Nothing was in the room with her, at least, nothing that she could see. Another shadow moved. Mary squeaked and backed out, leaving the door open and thundered down the hall. For all her bravery watching horror movies and getting into trouble, she was a wimp when it came to real potential danger.
With a loud pop, the lights went out and she was plunged into total darkness.
“Oh great,” She whispered to herself. If being lost wasn’t bad enough, now she’d have to find her way in the dark.
She stepped forward, the floor creaking beneath her feet. The soft patter of small footsteps started up behind her. She stopped and the footsteps stopped too. Heart pounding, she waited. Nothing. Quietly, she started walking again, ears straining for any noise behind her. She hadn’t taken more than three steps when the footsteps started again, quicker this time. It was getting closer. Something swatted her ankle. Mary looked down and saw a pair of luminous yellow eyes staring back at her. With a strangled yelp, she jumped and ran flat out down the hall; whatever it was didn’t follow. Glancing behind her, Mary didn’t see the ripple in the carpet runner and tripped. She landed on her stomach with a crash and scrambled against the wall as quickly as she could. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as she stared wide eyed down the hall, expecting to see some small monster creeping toward her. Lightning flashed in the window a foot behind her, momentarily illuminating her surroundings. Sitting halfway down the hall was a large black cat, its fur sparkling with raindrops. Mary laughed at herself.
“I’m getting spooked by a stupid old cat! How lame is that?”
Lightning flashed again, throwing a long, oddly shaped shadow across the floor. Turning, Mary’s eyes grew wide. Her voice caught in her throat. Clinging to the window was a giant form with pearly white fangs, staring menacingly at her. She crawled backward, horrified. She didn’t know what it was, but she knew she didn’t want to be its dinner. The thing scratched at the window, ropes of saliva dripping from its mouth. Mary managed to spring to her feet and tear down the hall, her feet slipping on the carpet. Rounding the corner, Mary stumbled. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest; her breath quickening. She crashed through hallways and staircases, trying desperately to find her way back to her parents. She burst through a set of double doors and slammed into the bellhop, Sam. It was like hitting a very small brick wall. Mary lost her balance, tottering on one foot before landing hard on her butt. She looked up at him and cringed under his withering glare.
“What are you doing in the service corridor?” He growled.
“I…I…” She stuttered.
“Well?”
“I was looking around upstairs and was lost the power went out. Something big was in the window and I was trying to get away from it.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Stupid kid, you probably thought it was a monster didn’t you? Now get up, I’m taking you back to your parents and I had better not catch you around here again.”
Mary was too frightened to argue. She rose slowly, dusted her jeans off, and followed him into the dining hall. She felt like a little girl again, in trouble for getting into mischief The walls where lined with gas lights, candles flickered in holders on tables set out of the way, adding to Mary’s unease. People stared at her as she was guided through the halls and rooms. Looking down, she noticed why. Her black t-shirt was twisted around her hips, exposing large sections of flesh; she fumbled with the fabric, yanking it down.
In the restaurant, she spotted her parents talking happily with a young woman. They had no idea what horrors lay just outside the building. Sam prodded her forward at her their table.
“Where have you been? You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago!” Her mother said, then spotting Sam frowning behind her: “Oh Mary, what trouble have you gotten into now?”
“Ma’am, Sir. I found your daughter in a service corridor. Please try to make sure she does not go into an area off limits to guests again. Thank you.” Sam said.
“I am so sorry about this.” Her father replied, “We won’t let her out of our site again.” He gave Mary a hard look.
Sam nodded and skulked off, ‘probably back to whatever cave he crawled out of’ Mary thought.
“Well young lady, what do you have to say for yourself?” Her mother asked, tight lipped.
Mary sat quietly for a moment, thinking, then finally: “I got lost. I’m sorry.” It was probably best not to mention what she saw; she was in enough trouble already without them getting angry about something she ‘made up’. They would never believe her.
Her father’s shoulders fell. “I’m sorry you had to meet our daughter like this.” He said to the woman he had been talking to. “Rhonda, this is Mary, Mary, this is Rhonda.” The woman nodded at Mary and smiled. She was pretty, but sadness tainted her dark eyes. “Hi,” She said.
Mary flashed a nervous smile “Hi.”
Rhonda took a sip of coffee, sighing almost inaudibly into the cup.
“Coffee steals souls, you know.” Mary tried to joke. Her parents just shook their heads, rolling their eyes at her.
“What? I’m not allowed to be funny?” she asked.
“That wasn’t funny. That wasn’t even in the same zip code as funny” Her mother said, winking slyly at her.
“No, it’s alright. In a way it’s true. I am a slave to the bean juice.” Rhonda’s smile brightened a bit.
“Awesome! They have potato fritters!” Mary said, pulling a menu towards her.
Dinner passed at an excruciatingly slow crawl, the only action coming from the flickering flames fighting to stay lit as waiters whisked by with mouthwatering food atop silver serving platters. When everyone had finished their meals, they said their good-byes and Mary trudged back to the room, careful to keep her parents in sight.
Grabbing her pajamas, she locked herself in the bathroom to change.
“Get ahold of yourself!” She said to her reflection. “You didn’t see anything you need to be worried about. It was just your imagination. It was just your imagination.” She chanted, pulling her nightshirt over her head. “Just your imagination.” She said again, taking a deep breath and walking back to her bed.
She flopped down, exhausted and fell into a fitful sleep within seconds. Her dreams were haunted by images of glowing eyes an claws tapping against windows, their razor edges scraping loudly against the glass, leaving long, deep gouges. Gouges that could easily draw blood. The monster taunted her, keeping pace as she hurled herself through hallway after hallway, never finding her way to safety. At one point she dreamt she had burst through a random door and smacked face first into the eviscerated body of a girl who looked uncannily like herself, right down to the scuffed combat boots. Her face however was cut and bloody, a mask of pain and torment from the unspeakable horrors she had been forced to witness. Entrails hung almost comically from her stomach, dripping too bright blood onto the checkerboard floor. Her parents hung on oversized meat hooks behind this hauntingly similar body, they too disemboweled and grotesque, almost harlequin-like with swirls of blood on their cheeks and patterned across their remaining clothes.
In a moment of utter horror, the bodies began to jerk and sway to a nonexistent tune. They danced like cartoon skeletons, their arms and legs rising and extending at odd moments, the gore dangling from them trailing behind them, undulating in sickening patterns beneath their feet. Her heart felt like it was going to explode the whole night, and her sheets were soaked through with sweat.
The next morning dawned just as cold and dreary as the day preceding it. The power still hadn’t come back on when the Browns walked bleary-eyed into the lobby. Whispers of another disappearance quickly reached the ears of a tired, sluggish Mary as she grabbed a muffin from the breakfast bar, whispers that Rhonda was the latest person to go missing. She froze, muffin clutched loosely in her hand.
“Keep moving kiddo, you’re holding up the line” Her father said.
“What’s wrong?” Her mother asked, noting the stunned look on her daughters’ face.
“Didn’t you just hear them? Rhonda’s missing.” Mary said.
“Oh, dear! Well, maybe she left after her brother didn’t show up.”
“No, she said she would stay here for another day, just in case.”
“Maybe her brother called her last night and asked to be picked up somewhere else.” Her father said, walking around her to continue getting food.
Mary sat in silence, picking at her muffin as her parents chatted about whatever it is parents chat about. She didn’t know why she was so upset. Maybe it was because Rhonda wasn’t much older than she was; maybe it was because in the short amount of time she had spent with her they had created a sort of bond, an unlikely friendship in this horrid place.
“What do you say Mary? Mary? I’m talking to you. Earth to Mary.” Her mother’s voice pierced her thoughts like a needle to an overinflated balloon.
“Hmmm? What do I say about what?” Mary said, dragging herself out of her reverie.
“Do you want to pack it up and go find someplace else to stay? Somewhere with power?”
Mary nodded, “Yeah, sure.”
Walking back to their room, Mary was still deep in thought. Hillary struggled to insure nothing was forgotten in the steely glow from the window; although it had temporarily stopped raining, the thick cloud cover offered little chance for sunlight to trickle through, let alone enough light to see properly by.
In the lobby, Mary lowered herself into a chair, staring deeply into the fire while her parents stood in a sizeable line, trying to check out.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” The exasperated voice of the desk clerk floated above the babble of the guests. “My sincerest apologies, but we cannot allow you to check out at this time. With no power, our computer systems are down and therefor can make no changes to your account.”
“What about letting us check out without the computer?” Someone in the crowd shouted.
“That is not possible. Any change in occupancy must be registered with the system. I’m afraid you cannot leave.”
A woman rushed to the door, baggage in hand. “There is nothing stopping me from leaving right now!” She said, yanking on the door.
Nothing happened. She pulled and shoved, but the door wouldn’t budge.
“What’s wrong with this door? Why can’t I get out?” She asked.
“The doors are automated. Without power, they won’t open.” The desk clerk said.
“That’s a fire hazard! We’re trapped!” someone else in the crowd shouted.
There was a pause, as if the whole world was holding its’ breath, anchoring everyone in their places. Then panic broke out amongst the guests, they stampeded to the door like a herd of angry rhinos, pounding fists and suitcases against it in a desperate attempt to flee.
The double pained glass doors didn’t give. The rain soaked reflections of the guests mocked the terror driven crowd. Screams erupted, making Mary clap her hands to her ears in pain.
“People, people please! Remain calm! There is nothing to be done but to wait for the power to return. If you would return to your rooms or the dining area, we would be happy to serve warm tea, coffee and hot chocolate. You will not be charged for the inconvenience of staying here longer than the check-out time.” The clerk shouted over the din.
The frightened face of Mary’s mother popped into view, followed closely by her father. “Let’s get out of this area before these people start rioting!” she said, grabbing Mary by the arm and towing her down the hall.
Mary followed obediently behind her. This was starting to remind her more and more of a horror movie. All the clichéd characters, disappearances, the power-outage, being trapped inside; with what she swore she had seen last night in that window, this had to be some bad horror movie. There was no other explanation for it.
‘Next thing you know, the employees here are going to start killing people. Or maybe they already are. Or that thing she saw was doing the killing and the employees were covering it up for some sick reason.’ She thought.
“Ladies and Gentlemen welcome to your inevitable demise” She mumbled to herself.
“Did you say something?” Her father asked.
“No Dad.” She said. He wouldn’t understand.
They stayed huddled in their room for hours, attempting to get a signal on any of their cell phones.
“Patrick, anything on your phone yet?” Her mother asked.
“Not a damned thing, you?” He said.
“Nothing. Mary, give me your phone.”
She handed it over, knowing full well there wouldn’t be a signal. There never was in situations like this. Her mother carried the cell phone to the window, staring intently at the tiny screen, she moved it around, getting low then climbing onto a chair to hold it at the top of the frame. A beep, the screen flashed for a moment, they had a faint signal but then it was gone just as quickly as it came.
“damn it!” her mother swore, her fist pounding angrily against the wall.
“Hillary dear, let’s take a break. It can’t be that bad. All we have to do is wait for the power to come back on then we can leave.” Her father said.
“I just want to go home now. Forget this vacation ever happened.” She said.
“I know dear, I know.” He threw his arms around her, pulling her close.
Mary stood and crossed the room to her parents, curling unabashedly into their loving arms. They all wanted to go home, none more so than the quietly sobbing Mary. She had the overwhelming suspicion they wouldn’t make it out alive.
The clock on her dying phone read 4:00 before any of them moved. They stretched, groaning as their joints popped.
“Let’s get something to eat. No point staying in here all night.” Her father said.
Mary wiped the tears from her read, puffy eyes as she trudged resolutely into the restaurant, her mind focused solely on obtaining a steaming cup of tea and something to quell her growling stomach. The lobby and restaurant were still both crammed with the few remaining guests, all taking up much more room than normal in their nervous pacing, their many bags kept at their feet, ready to escape the moment the power returned.
At a table in a secluded corner of the restaurant, Mary and her parents settled into their seats, watching the tense crowed from afar. The wait staff rushed to serve them, smiling a little to widely for the situation. It disturbed Mary out to no end.
“It’s like a freaking horror movie, I swear.” she grumbled under her breath.
All thoughts of movies, horror or otherwise, were driven far from her mind as her tea arrived, steaming and fragrant, with mouthwatering finger sandwiches and something the waiter called pamplemousse that turned out to be grapefruit. She bathed in the luxury that was the hot cup, holding it closely to her face in both hands.
Finally relaxed enough to spend time in the lobby, the family gravitated toward a group of unoccupied chairs directly next to the fire. The crackling flames blocking out the uneasy ranting of their fellow guests, drawing their attention away from the incessant pacing, the worried looks and upset faces melting away in the flickering blaze before them. Mary pulled a small paperback she bought just before they got to the hotel out of her back pocket, curled up in her chair, and started to read, wishing the story would transport her mind far away from her current situation.
“What are you reading kid?” her father asked.
“Uhhh, it’s supposed to be the true experiences of a ghost hunter.” She said, looking up from the first page.
“Why don’t you read some of it out loud? It could give us something else to think about.”
Mary coughed, clearing her throat, and read:
“It all started as a young child. I knew things I couldn’t possibly know. Many times, I could tell you what someone was going to say before they said it, even if I didn’t know them. I could sometimes foretell events, both every day and abnormal. It didn’t happen all the time, but often enough to make me sit up and take notice.
I recall occasionally going to my great grandparents’ home, in a location I no longer remember. The Crumes’ house was fairly small, but cozy. It was also a hotspot for the paranormal. Generations of my family have had many experiences but none as prevalent as at the Crumes’ home. It housed what most believed to be a very active poltergeist. It was like a scene out of the movie of the same name: chairs would stack themselves on the table in the blink of an eye, the refrigerator would move, the door would slam on its own, and footsteps could be heard at all hours. In other words, I loved it. Yeah, I really was that strange kid that watched horror movies without batting an eye and was comfortable with the paranormal before I was old enough to go to school.
When I was in the sixth grade, I had a strange and vivid dream. I clearly saw my friends and myself sitting in our favorite spot on the playground, talking. The unusual thing about it was that we were talking about something we had never spoken about before. Some of them were wearing clothes they didn’t own, and expressed opinions about something that hadn’t happened. For a week, I could recall every detail about this dream, and then it happened. One random day, we were wearing the clothes I saw, the event we had spoken about in the dream had just happened, and we were sitting in the exact same positions I had seen. It has been years since that happened, so I don’t remember everything, but I do remember being confused. I knew what everyone was going to say, even though I knew, and everyone else insisted, we had NEVER had a conversation like this before. Ever. Walking back to class, I pulled my then best friend aside.
“Did we really never talk about this before?” I asked her.
“Of course we didn’t. How could we? It just happened.” She told me. “And how did you know what we were going to say?”
I couldn’t tell her. She wouldn’t believe me. I barely believed myself.
Over the years, I would continue to have prophetic dreams and witness strange events, most of which seem rather pointless and ordinary. I grew to accept it as everyday life, never stopping to think that maybe I was unusual or in any way different. I thought everyone my age had these experiences. I thought every family had many lifetimes of true ghost stories and psychic events.
In junior high, I had a sleepover birthday party that started out normal, but turned into something I will never forget. By then, I was already into spirituality, and reincarnation. I had the feeling I had lived before. That night my friends and I were messing around, and tried to remember our past lives. I closed my eyes, and cleared my mind. My best friend Magy and I linked hands, and concentrated on the past. Flashes of memories flooded my mind. I tried harder. The images of an Egyptian palace swam into focus. I saw both of us together as sisters with a handsome man, a man we both loved. We were servants to the pharaoh’s family and in a secret relationship with his son, but it didn’t stay secret for long. The Queen found out about us, and did her best to stop it. When she couldn’t turn us against each other, she ordered us killed. After a blissful night with the son who’s name I never found out (in this lifetime), guards stormed the room, dragging us into the desert. They sealed us into a structure, where we were thrown into a pit of scorpions and snakes. It was a struggle to escape the pit, and impossible to escape the structure. We died in our bid for freedom. Magy and I still remember that night, and even though we may be separated by many hundreds of miles, we are still very connected to each other.”
“Wait,” a man in black slacks and a cream button down shirt with slick backed hair interrupted. “Are we supposed to believe this wack-job really sees her past life and has dreams of the future?”
“A lot of people believe a lot of things” Mary replied. “Who are we to say whether or not they are insane? What may be fiction to you is another person’s reality.”
“But ghosts aren’t real! They can’t be. It defies logic and physics.”
“What’s your name?” Mary raised an eyebrow.
“Harry.”
“You’re a wizard, Harry. You take one view of the world, and apply it to everyone and everything. You’re a real wizard at being a jerk.”
Harry glared at her for a moment and stalked off.
She cleared her throat again, loudly, effectively ending the argument.
“ Fast forward to my senior year in high school: my friends and I try to develop our psychic abilities by doing simple ‘receiving and sending’ exorcises. Someone focuses on a specific word or item, and the other person ‘reads’ what it is. I get every answer right. Later that school year, my friend Jon tells me about the strange things that happen at his Dad’s house. They have all noticed phantom smells, footsteps, and his little sister was screamed at while in the bathroom. He also tells me that when he is at home, and calls our fellow friend Kate with his cell phone, the two cells have connection issues. They both get a lot of static and strange sounds. They get new cellphones, and the same thing happens. He can be anywhere else in town, and get perfect reception, he can call someone else while he’s home, and gets perfect reception, it us just those two people that have problems. Towards the end of the school year, we decided to all go see the school production of Grease together. We go to his house afterwards for a while, and since his dad isn’t home, we try to contact whatever spirit or spirits may be lurking there and boy howdy do we ever contact them!
We set up one cell phone in the living room, on the back of a corduroy chair with the mouth piece facing the hallway. We had the other phone with us in his room, and from there, we could see the first phone. They were both on speaker, so we could hear well. We asked for a sign of its presence. We heard boot steps. Not only on the phone, but through the hall with our own ears. I looked out into the living room and nothing was there. We tried talking to it, and although we never heard any words, we could get static and footsteps in response to our questions. Eventually the footsteps got louder, and we all heard some loud bang from the living room. I poked my head out again, and saw the cell phone on the back of the chair rotate one hundred and eighty degrees. Needless to say, I was freaked. I hadn’t seen something move like that since I was about five. I gave a sort of high pitched yelp, and ducked back inside Jon’s room, holding on to him for dear life. After a minute or two of cowering, I plucked up the courage to drag my friends into the living room to look at the phone. They were more frightened than I was, so this was quite a feat to me, though why they were more afraid, I don’t know because they didn’t see it move. There we stood in the living room, looking down on a phone that had very clearly moved from its original position. We searched high and low for something that would make it move. There were no drafts anywhere, and the chair was solid. Satisfied that we did all we could to debunk it, we went back into his room to try to contact the spirit again. With more footsteps, we thought it would just be more of the same, until we heard the voice. It didn’t scare me, but instead intrigued me. A voice that we could all hear? Yes please. My friends were still terrified, so I walked back into the living room and stood next to the chair. I asked it if it could touch me, and my back went ice cold. I told my friends they needed to get in there to validate what I was feeling, and after almost screaming at them that they needed to get the f**k in there, they finally darted in next to me. Jon, being the tallest, felt around my back, and noticed the cold was in a specific shape. He used his hand to outline the cold in the shape of a person a foot taller than me, head, shoulders, legs and all. When he indicated the height of the form by putting his hand directly on top of the cold spot, my right cheek suddenly became extremely hot. It felt like it was burning my flesh! I’m normally a fairly cold person, skin-wise, so I don’t radiate that much heat, but when prompted to see if she could feel the hot spot, Kate could feel it a full foot away from me. Shock and even greater fear registered on her face as she squeaked:
“There’s a red mark on your face! It looks like a handprint!”
I wanted it to stop. I was afraid. So it stopped. Everything felt normal again. It had gone away just as quickly as it had come. Rattled, I walked back into Jon’s room in a sort of daze, a dizzying high brought on by knowing the people around me were feeling exactly what I was feeling.
I sat down, my back to the door, and held out my arms straight out on either side of me.
“Can you touch me again?” I asked.
Right on cue, I felt pressure on my arms, like hands pressing them down, but without discernible fingers just solid pressure. My friends jumped, frightened again.
“What now?” I asked, afraid to look behind me.
“Your medallion just flipped over!” They said in unison.
I looked down. The heavy metal medallion I used to wear every day before it broke had flipped over, and was now facing backwards. This medallion was not known for moving by itself. The feeling went away again, and I was drawn back toward the chair the cell phone was sitting on. I don’t know why, but I felt the urge to stand there and talk to it again.
“Can you talk through me?” I heard myself asking.
“Yes.” A voice said in my ear.
Jon’s father made the rather annoying decision to come home at just that moment. Since he didn’t approve of things like this, we had to call it quits.
Kate and I lived about half an hour’s drive from Jon’s house by way of freeway, and it was near 10:00 at night, so we headed home together with Kate driving. On the road, we both felt a pressure on our legs. Kate had sped up, which was disconcerting to say the least. On a freeway known for deer accidents and in pitch darkness, I wasn’t that comfortable with her going the speed limit, let alone speeding.
“What the hell are you doing? Slow down!” I said.
She looked at me, eyes wide. “It’s not me! Something is pushing my foot down!”
Summoning my years of knowledge in all things paranormal, I pulled the energy she was feeling toward me with my own energy. It’s hard to explain, so I won’t blame you if you don’t understand. The feeling left her, and made its way up my legs, pinning my arms down, and then crawling up my chest to my neck. The feeling tightened and solidified into what I knew was a rope. I’d had rope around my neck before, and could tell you without a doubt that is exactly what it felt like. The sensation was so real that my hand shot up to my throat, fingers digging through air in a futile attempt to pull it off of me. Once again using my energy against it, I banished the spirit from me, telling it flat out that it was not allowed to follow me or Kate home. An hour later while lying in bed, I tried to sit up to readjust my pillow, but something held my head down. Now I was angry. I imagined the spirit locked in a very heavy metal box, wrapped in chains and buried several miles below ground. It served the thing right. I was not about to be attacked in any way in my own home. If you think I was experiencing sleep paralysis or something similar, know this: I don’t really sleep at night, never have, and this was happening minutes after I turned out the light. I finally drifted off into a dead sleep, and woke a few hours later, much earlier than I normally do. Glancing at my clock, I saw that it was 6 am, and rolled over to go back to sleep. When I stopped moving, I heard a voice very clearly in my ear say:
“Wristband.”
No one else was wake in the house, and no one was outside. The walls were thin enough that you could easily tell if someone was trying to mess with you, or were just talking to someone, or if a TV was on both inside the house, or outside. I shrugged it off and went back to sleep.
Monday morning, I told my friends about what had happened while I was in bed, and Kate and I told Jon about what happened in the car. As it turned out, Kate had left her wrist warmer at Jon’s house (she calls it a wristband) and that a document search from city hall reviled that a former owner had hanged themself in the house.
In the spring of 2009, word got out that ‘Ghost Hunters’ would be coming to town to investigate the allegedly haunted Hotel Mount Lassen. The newspaper said it would be TAPS coming to investigate, when in reality, it was a TAPS family group. Either way, the hotel held a ‘ghost hunting night’ the night before the group was set to arrive. They told stories of all the paranormal experiences guests and employees had, as well as some of the deaths that happened on the premises. A different paranormal research group was staying the night there, and happily gave tours of the upper floors, and showed those who asked how to use the equipment. Hotel staff gave tours of the lower level. Upstairs in room 300, the hotel manager had been murdered in around 1990 by two staff members. Back then, rooms 300 and 301 were combined to give the manager a suit. The manager had the day’s take with him, intending to deposit it in the bank, when he was murdered in his room. I don’t know all the details, but when the guide had everyone standing in room 301, and said that it was were the body was found, I, who had been standing in the doorway connecting to two rooms, said: “No, he was found in room 300. It’s where all the blood was.”
Room 300, much like half the building, had not been renovated. It fell into disrepair and was so badly damaged that one could not really identify what the wallpaper or paint had looked like.
“That’s true, but when staff members here talk about the murder, they refer to these two rooms as one.” The guide said.
I hadn’t actually known that. I just felt myself saying it.
Downstairs, there had been at least three violent, tragic deaths. A manager and a bartender had died in a fire that had burned down the building, and in the boiler room, a staff member had been burned to death while trying to fix said boiler.
The boiler room was large, and made mostly of concrete, with an approximately 6 or 7 foot drop into the concrete pit that housed the giant metal boiler. The walkways were narrow and difficult to traverse in a large group. The wooden ceiling was still charred black from the fire that killed the employee. While walking on one of the narrow walkways to the side of the boiler, several large women decided to get pushy knocked me sideways. My right leg slipped off and I found myself falling rapidly into the pit. I reached out to the boiler, trying desperately to push myself back up, but it was no use. I was so afraid that I would break my leg or back, or even my neck and die, that I silently prayed for someone to help me. I had fallen so far that my knee was level with the walkway when I felt a hand on my ankle firmly push me back up and place my foot on solid ground. I immediately looked down to thank the person that helped me, and realized no one was down there. Not one person in that large group had noticed I almost fell to my death. I said a silent thank you, and walked as quickly as I could out the door and back into the hall.
The next day, I went to Reno with my family, and was unable to great the ghost hunting team that was set to investigate, but did meet them the day after. Sitting in the billiard room, waiting for one of my friends, one of the members passed through and struck up a short conversation with me. He was rather pleasant and gave me advice on the proper use of voice recorders while doing EVP sessions. Just before the group left, a chief from the hotel’s restaurant came up to me and asked for my autograph. Confused, I asked him why.
“You’re part of the Ghost Hunting group, aren’t you?” He said.
“Afraid not.” I told him.
I don’t think he believed me, because he started staring at my shirt, probably expecting to see a ghost on it (it was a black shirt with a black and white portrait on it). He seemed disappointed. I was rather proud of myself because apparently I give off the air of a professional Ghost Hunter.”
“I think that’s enough of that.” Mary’s mother said.
“Hillary?” her father asked.
She gestured to the group at large, most of whom were fidgeting uncomfortably.
“Your mom’s right. This book may be making others here uneasy.”
Time stood still for them at last, finally relaxed and forgetting their problems, their reservations. That was, until a woman screamed. In the open doorway leading to the service corridors, stood a frightened woman. The same woman Mary had seen last night after she took that video of the people in the store room. A man ran to her, the same man Mary had seen with her before. Reaching her, he threw down the fire poker he had been absentmindedly picking at just moments before.
“Charlotte, baby! Are you OK?” He held her tight in his arms. “What happened? You’re shaking like a leaf!”
“I…I found…bodies. They were dismembered.” She whispered. “One of them had this,” She pulled the note out.
“Who are Rhonda and Zack?” He asked, scanning the paper.
Hillary’s head snapped up. “Rhonda and Zack? I met her in the restaurant last night. She had been waiting for her brother Zack. He never showed up, then she disappeared last night.”
Dan carefully folded the paper back up, placing it in his back pocket. “I see. Honey, could you show me where you found this?”
She nodded meekly, still shivering. “Wait,” She paused, looking up at his face. “You aren’t thinking of going in there are you? It’s not safe! What if whoever killed those people catches us?” Her lip trembled.
“Charlotte, if someone is killing people, we’ll need more proof than a note. Besides, I’ll protect you.” He smiled, picking the fire poker back up.
They wandered off, apparently back in the direction she had come from. They had been gone for what seemed like hours, everyone terrified of Dan coming back to confirm his wife had indeed found the missing guests dead, but in reality it had only been about half an hour when Charlotte came galloping through the room, screaming Dan’s name, her face a mask of fear.
Everyone was stunned. Charlotte was completely off her rocker and now it seemed that Dan was missing. What was happening?
An old man limped into the middle of the room, his wild mane of hair puffed out around his face, a face that was scarred and battle weary. He wore a tattered old Army jacket and battered boots over faded blue jeans and a yellowing white t-shirt. Each of his fingers showed years of nicotine stains and the destructive habit of picking at his nails. His eyes were bugging out of his head, his mouth set in a twisted line.
“We’re all going to die in here! We have to revolt! We must get out of this building!” He screamed.
Mary waited for the desk clerk to do something about him, to make him stop, but he didn’t say a word. She looked around for him. Keith the desk clerk was nowhere to be seen. How long had he been gone? Why would he leave his post with all these panicked people hanging around? Mary didn’t know. Her fear was growing, morphing into something uncontrollable. Now she really did feel like she was going to die there; that there was no hope of escape.
“Worst. Vacation. Ever.” She thought.
The old man was talking to himself now, crying and waving his arms around, screaming at anyone who dared come near him. He was terrifying the already petrified guests, which was quite an accomplishment.
The candles flickered violently then extinguished, the fire blowing out with a great whooshing noise, sending flames out in a mushroom cloud of heat, plunging the building into complete darkness. The only sound was the torrent of rain pelting the walls. In the deathly quiet, the room seemed to be breathing, the furniture taking on a life of their own. Glass crashed in the next room, its high pitched crack making the lobby dwelling guests jump a foot in the air. Cold pierced the room. The people in the restaurant screamed, their footsteps thundered toward the door, but something stopped them. More screams echoed down the hall. Their tormented wails sending shivers down the spines of those listening.
“NOOOO! For the love of God, NO! Someone help us!”
A roar, something wet splattering against the floor and walls, several low thuds, then silence. Horrifying, shocking silence. The sound of rain increased a hundred fold, it was deafening in the darkness. No one wanted to move, no one wanted to see the carnage in the next room. Something huge moved in the darkness, invisible in the inky black. Claws clicked loudly against wood, slinking closer to the fearful crowed. It was overhead, stalking closer, closer, its putrid breath filling the room. A low growl emanated directly above her. Her mind flashed back to last night, and the horrible creature hanging onto the windowsill. Her heart stopped. Saliva dripped down into a gooey puddle in the center of the room, making her gag. The air around her gave way with a hiss as the creature dived down, pinning several people beneath it. They groaned in agony, everyone else too frightened to move.
Mary grabbed her parents’ wrists, dragging them away as silently as she could. The thing whipped around, sensing their movement. A voice sobbed on the other side of the room, heavy footsteps tried to flee and the creature rounded on them, lunging forward. Chaos. People running in all directions with the monster close behind. Mary tugged harder, forcing her parents to retreat further into the night.
“Don’t make a sound!” She whispered.
They tiptoed through the halls, searching for sanctuary. More screams rang out from the lobby, but there was nothing they could do. Finding a broom closet, Mary stuffed her family inside, squeezing in next to them.
“Where are all the employees? Aren’t they supposed to help in situations like this?” Her mother squeaked.
“Situations like this? You think there’s a section in the training manual about giant man eating creature attacks? Would it be right next to the ‘Zombie Apocalypse’ section?” Her father shot.
“Shut up, both of you! Do you want that thing to find us?” Mary hissed. “Besides, the staff could be in on this. They could have let it loose on us!”
The loud clicking of claws muffled by carpet announced the arrival of the creature. Slow footsteps treaded behind it. It sounded like a human was walking right next to the thing, but that couldn’t be right, could it? Loud sniffing just outside the door made them jump. Her mother clamped a hand over her own mouth, stifling her cries.
The door burst open, the grinning face of Sam the bellhop staring at them.
“Sick ‘em boy!” He said, moving out of the way.
Mary ducked just in time as the creature lunged, its clawed arm swiping exactly where her head had just been. She bolted through the door, expecting her parents to be right behind her. They weren’t so lucky. The limp arm of her father lay bloody in the doorframe, a few loose sections of her mother’s hair splayed out next to it. The creature was still half in the door, crunching on something.
“Oh god! It’s eating my parents!” She said, gaging.
Sam’s head snapped up, his once gleeful expression turned to one of hatred and anger.
“Go get her!” He shouted.
The creature took another bite, breaking bones and ripping flesh with a sickening rip. It turned to stare at her, blood and intestines dripping from its mouth, chunks of flesh sticking out from between its pointed teeth. Tears poured down from Mary’s eyes. Her family was gone; there was nothing left for her in this world. The creature stalked forward, growling softly. Even after killing an untold number of people, even after devouring her parents, it was still hungry. Mary’s body relaxed, even as her mind screamed to keep fighting it, whatever it was. This was the end.
“You are even more stupid than I expected.” Sam called to her. “Do you know how sad that is? Do you realize how truly sad that is? You had the chance to escape. You saw our little pet before it was too late, but you didn’t do anything. You’re pathetic.”
“I know,” was all that Mary could whisper before the creature took her.
It reared up on its hind legs and let its mouth come crashing down on her head. Her decapitated body stood for a moment, then fell to the floor in a twitching, bloody heap.
Monday morning dawned bright and cheery, a rainbow glimmering brightly in the pale blue sky. Sunlight trickled down into the many rooms of the Sterling Hotel as its staff tidied up after the weekend’s massacre.
“Tell me again why we summoned a demonic vampire to eat our guests.” A maid said, sweeping broken glass into a dustpan.
“Because. Many people disappear, word gets out strange things happen, people come to see. Food also taste very good now, yes?” The old Russian woman said. “Now stop complaining and work. More people come soon.”
The Russian woman tied her apron securely around her waist, and hobbled into the kitchen. Arms, legs, and torsos littered the counters, vegetables scattered around them. A human liver lay half chopped on a bloody cutting board. In a simmering pot of thick red liquid, floating amongst tomatoes and diced celery was a single eyeball, staring into the abyss.
The guest parking lot stood empty as a line of cars pulled in, families and weary travelers searching for good food and rest spilling out of their cars and into the awaiting hotel.
“Welcome to the Sterling Hotel. Please forgive the mess, last night’s storm did some damage to our windows. Do you have a reservation?” Sam said to the first group of people to walk in.
Somewhere out in the damp field sat the vampire, chewing on the scraps of food he was afforded like a great gray dog.
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