Till the present day he has had to live with it himself, and now with his adult brain he often tries to understand. The ghost books he collected as a child were binned years ago, not because they reminded him of the episode but because he had come up with his own theory which rubbished them. He did not believe so much in ghosts (those fleeting, mostly harmless entities) as he did monsters. Looking back he realised he had been under many illusions as a kid - not this one. Clearly children, particularly sensitive ones like he used to be, were vulnerable to such things. They brought with them an impressionable reality which, though prone to illusions, also allowed for supernatural insight. The scientific approach was no good. Those orbs were misleading remnants, the product of looking at things through fixed modes of criteria.
This latest recollection had been brought on by a refinery Ben had driven past. What happened all those years ago had not spoilt his future but these flashbacks did run the risk of spawning new observations, like…had it been watching him by the door, all that time?
Who’s to say it wasn’t watching him now?
Ben nervously checked the rear-view to see if there was a dent in the upholstery. Doing so made him jump…but no, that was indeed the natural curve of the seat. A deep breath followed. The heart rate came down. Surely all that was left of the episode was in the mind (these second guesses needed to stop). Onto another motorway and that old memory faded along with the scent of sulphur. He focused on the road and seeing his girlfriend, on what was normal and what he loved.
Secret of the Salt Mine
1
Uncommonly sensible during his early years, Braydon White had amassed a tidy fortune by the time he was twenty five. What used to be a dud fishing business on Canada’s west coast was bought and transformed into a goldmine. The chance to help his family made Braydon (secretly) very proud, but with life’s monetary woes already over he felt that itch which had never left. He needed to see the world, to get far away from the snowy plains, his close-knit family, even his childhood sweetheart who was beginning to annoy babbling about their future. After promising he’d be in regular contact a row became a discussion. “It’s only three months! Besides, this is your last year. You need to get top marks. I’ll be back just after your exams so we can have a dual celebration.” After a little cry Jennifer started to come to terms with the idea, and get excited for his return. The rough plan was to arrive in Spain and travel north east hitting most European countries. Once he got to Croatia he would fly to China for a month and then take off to Australia/New Zealand for the last leg.
As soon as he alighted from the plane he knew this was a good decision and within a few days he was a first-class backpacker, easily finding his way around while tackling multiple languages. He was especially happy with his Italian - praised on four separate occasions. During his trip to Venice, Braydon noticed a reflection of himself in a window (reclining in the sun with an espresso) and laughed at what his work buddies would think of all this. He had officially got the travel bug, that addictive process of finding your bearings, appreciating what’s on offer then starting anew. From Venice he went to Austria where he spent over a week. Of all the places he had been Austria’s combination of mountains, lakes and alpine houses pleased Braydon the most. Then there was the mild weather, the clean air, the friendly locals, it ticked every box. Vienna was great but it was in the more rural areas where he fantasied about setting up another fishing business. It was best to put that idea to Jennifer once he got back.
The only issue was something Braydon occasionally suffered from at home - sleep paralysis. This curious phenomenon would occur just as he was about to wake up. As his mind began to regain consciousness and feel itself ready to issue orders he became aware that they did not compute, producing a locked-in sensation, and whenever this occurred on his front Braydon would begin to smother himself. Usually Jennifer would hear repressed breathing and give him a nudge but out here on his own he had had a couple of unpleasant experiences which led to suffocating in dreamland until the struggle roused him. As of late he had revised his sleeping position which, although it resulted in a dead arm, was much better.
For two days he had broken his promise to leave Austria for Hungary, working his way west until he hit Salzburg - a fine city in its own right - in this case a stepping stone. From here he travelled south east toward the mountainous region of Salzkammergut; popular for those with good taste which stopped it being crowded. The end goal was to stay over at picturesque Hallstatt. While making his way there Braydon suddenly realised he had not booked a place to stay, and before he could do that he needed to find a place that boasted a Wi-Fi signal. The spa town of Bad Ischl seemed lively enough. It did not take long to grab a coffee and get his phone online at Café Ramsauer. He also went for a croissant when prompted as the general good vibe always made him want to reply in the affirmative. With the last sip he began to browse.
On a popular website Braydon scanned through a number of hotels. Balancing the reviews with the price helped him choose. He knew it may be slim pickings. He didn’t realise it would be difficult to find a single place. Most of the rooms available were rather extravagant with king-sized beds and idyllic views, affordable yes, but prodigality was not the principle on which he had generated wealth. Half an hour of searching and a slow connection made it more tiresome. Going back through 16 pages worth of hotel suggestions he stopped on page 15 to one he had missed called Jürgen’s House. A bit off from the main street but most certainly walkable, Braydon scrolled down to read the reviews. The latest was a whole three years ago in which C_Richards1964 wrote:
“Clean. Good price. Not good if you want great views. Also it’s a steep walk up the steps, would recommend assistance for the elderly. Host was real nice.”
It was automatic to check if it was still open which other websites claimed. Braydon then observed a room which was perfect for what he needed. Some red text claiming “Only one room left!” hurried his selection. Clicking for one night was rejected, it being one of those places that only allowed for a minimum of two nights. Tapping the phone against his head in frustration, Braydon had already stretched his stay. Another night may pinch his time in countries he intended to visit. He knew he couldn’t change his return date as this would send Jennifer on a mad one. Figuring he would regret it that bit more while exploring places that didn’t charm him the same, Braydon booked two nights.
Without a car the easiest way to reach Hallstatt was to take a train and then cross Hallstatter See via a boat. Cycling down there was tempting but Braydon felt like he should keep this part of the journey simple; besides, it wasn’t as if the quicker route denied him the views, the greenery, the calm waters and ice-capped mountains. Only the tips of these monoliths were bare, the majority being covered with trees which made the settings charming as well as dramatic. Amongst a few other groups (one of them clearly tourists) Braydon alighted from the train and waited for the next boat. In leisurely fashion they boarded. As it began to move passengers took out their cameras. Braydon preferred not to cheapen the moment and let it cast its spell. Hallstatt village was clearly visible. Dwarfed by the mountains it looked like the first scene of a high-fantasy movie. Braydon heard his phone make a noise which meant another message from Jennifer. He’d check it later. When close enough to read the biggest signs his attention turned to the most elevated houses, those that began to climb the mountain, partially obscured by trees. All being of a similar style it was difficult to tell which one was Jürgen’s House though he knew it was around that area, where buildings drifted into wilderness.
As the boat docked Braydon got up quickly and strolled into the community. There were only a few streets to explore. This was alleviated by the eye-catching nature of the buildings, the individual colours and hanging flowers. Regardless, wherever one stood, the default was to admire the mountains. While cutting his way through the main street Braydon saw a few shops he’d like to visit. He decided he’d do that once he was a backpack light. T
he highest houses were targeted. Random staircases got him closer to his home for the next two nights. It took longer than it should because he could not help looking back over the roofs and out to Hallstatter See where another boat was cruising along. Once enough zig-zagging had been done to reach what appeared to be the highest point Braydon saw that the path he was on changed from pavement to a dirt track and it continued to rise.
This part of the journey was uncomfortable. Braydon knew this was the right path geographically speaking but until he saw his destination he felt a bit lost. He didn’t have to worry much longer. The dirt track changed into a long staircase. Onwards he went. At the top everything flattened out onto a sizeable area which contained a large alpine house, more wooden and less colourful. A row of trees opposed the building. The only gap led to the front door at which point Braydon understood C_Richards1964’s compliant about the views. It was a weird sensation to see a place that recalled farmland and then remember how high he was. Walking closer unveiled a sign on the door. Instantly he thought it was a notice of absence. Luckily it was something else, in German. Braydon squinted at the message. “No Vacancies” came the proud translation. He didn’t even need to check his book.
It was hard to hear the bell chime. Braydon pushed it a few times before he did. When someone opened the door he apologised. “Ah, yes, good to see it’s still working!” joked a man with a broad, expressive face. He wore traditional Lederhosen and stood with his hands on his hips.
Braydon smiled back. “I’m here to stay a couple of nights.”
There was a nod. “Mr Braydon White?”
“That’s me.”
“Excellent, do come in!” One arm held the door open while the other signalled him past. The reception area was decked in red carpet and smelt like someone had gone overboard with the air freshener. Other than that everything was much like outside - wooden. The reception guy moved his way around a little counter and extended an open palm. Braydon reached over to shake it.
“Jürgen Wolders.”
“Nice to meet you.”
Before letting go Jürgen had a playful stab at his nationality. “American?” Braydon laughed under his breath at the common mistake but didn’t mind. “Canadian,” he duly corrected.
“Ah! I knew it. So sorry!”
“That’s okay.”
“We do have an American lodging with us at the moment. I’ll pay attention to the differences in accent…hmm, yes…anyway!” Jürgen raised his eyebrows in energetic fashion, “how’s about getting you your room?”
“Sounds good.”
“One moment.”
He rummaged for the keys and a little paper work. Braydon figured this was a good time to read his message from Jennifer:
Dissertation almost done!
Thought it was gonna kill me!
How’s Hungary?
Thinking of you always! Xxx
Braydon slipped the phone back in his pocket and stood to attention for Jürgen who jangled the keys next to his head. “Floor two here we come!” He laughed at the overly cheerful host. The red carpet sprawled upstairs which prevented noisy climbing. On the first floor there was a short, stocky fellow fixing a light. Jürgen briefly introduced him as the finest electrician in all of Hallstatt. “I’m probably the only one.” Braydon smiled and got another handshake. Onto floor two and Braydon was guided towards the door to his room. “The American I spoke of is just next door to you.” With no more introductions or information Jürgen welcomed Braydon into his room the same way he had into the lodge. It was basic but clean. He walked to the only window. There wasn’t much to see aside from trees, not that it mattered.
“I hope everything is good?” asked the host like something could be missing.
“It’s fine,” Braydon was quick to assure.
“Complimentary craft sweets on the table, fresh towels in the cupboard and if you need anything I’ll be at my counter.” After a captain’s salute Jürgen closed the door and Braydon laughed. He sat on his bed to check its firmness. It was good enough to sleep on now but there was no time for that. He got what he needed to, grabbed his keys and went downstairs. Jürgen was surprised to see him down so quickly and saw him making a beeline for the door. “Oh! While you’re here I’d recommend checking out the salt mine.” It was a needless suggestion. Braydon was already on his way.
2
Thought to be the oldest salt mine in the world, this particular Salzwelten is believed to go back as far as 7000 years along with its ancient wooden staircase. In order to get there one must take a funicular, a cable-powered tram which pulls passengers up steep slopes, in this case one of the green mountains. There is the initial excitement of seeing how high you will be going and then watching the world shrink beneath you. As he did Braydon could see virtually every building save for his current residence because of how heavily forested it was there. Some hyper kid got his attention who insisted his parents look wherever he pointed. It was kind of funny. Just as he was asking what would happen if the cable broke the funicular levelled out.
Braydon got out joining another group who went into a place where they could change into more suitable attire. The tour began via entering a small tunnel. From here they had to rely on artificial light and adjust to a cooler climate. Every fifty metres or so they paused and arranged themselves to hear one of the female guides speak. When the male one piped up on the amount of salt produced a year Braydon did a double take as he was sure it was the electrician in the lodge. He moved a little closer to confirm it was and received a nod in return. Strange but it kind of added to his enjoyment of the tour which included sliding down to reach lower levels. It ate up most of the day. At the end of it Braydon waited until most left and approached him, joking whether or not he was the mayor as well.
“I do some carpentry when I can.” You could see in both his face and hands that he was a labourer. “Anyway, how are you enjoying Austria?”
“It’s great. Really nice here.”
“Glad to hear it. Did Jürgen invite you to dinner later?”
“Umm, well, he was speaking to me while I was leaving for here. Maybe he would have invited me had I hung around.”
“I’m headed there now.” Braydon looked confused. “Seen as I used to only go there on duty it was a bit strange when he first offered, but he told me he was bringing together a load of people who hadn’t met before. He’s good like that, bringing people together.”
“Oh, okay, that’s pretty cool.” A moment passed to think. “He’s very enthusiastic isn’t he?”
“Let’s just say he likes his job.” They both laughed in good nature while ambling towards the funicular station. As they got there Braydon asked what this guy’s name was. “Stefan Andris” he said and they shook hands again. During the journey down Braydon found him to be a very open person who loved his village’s history as well as sharing it. Stefan found it exciting how far Braydon had travelled but really lit up when told that this was probably the best country so far. Back on the main streets a postcard rack caught Braydon’s eye, a few depicting Hallstatt in winter. Once again that fantasy life here with Jennifer crossed his mind. The lengthy climb limited conversation until they were silent during the concrete stairs which led to that heavily forested retreat.
“Phew...that’s tough work,” said Braydon on the last step.
“Good for the legs!” replied Stefan while slapping one of them.
They pushed on to the lodge. Braydon allowed Stefan to hit the buzzer. Much quicker than last time the door opened to reveal Jürgen who was extra animated. “Just the two I was expecting!” After letting them both in he toned it down and spoke to Braydon. “I missed the chance to ask before. We sometimes do a big dinner-”
“Yeah, Stefan mentioned it. Sounds good.”
“Great! The resident cook will be happy to serve more people.”
“He’s an excellent cook,” Stefan chipped in.
He and Jürgen went to the dining area while Braydon he
aded to his room to freshen up. When the key was stuck in his door another opened. Out came the other housemate, the American. There was a mutually reserved “Hi” between the two. Before Braydon went into his room he was asked a question.
“How long ya here for?”
“Two nights. Tonight being the first.”
“Got two more nights myself, though I’ve been here a week.”
“Are you going to this dinner thing?” Braydon stopped holding onto the door handle as the American approached. “I was gonna scope out somewhere outside but what the hell. There I was trying to figure out what’s good and Jürgen almost leapt from behind his desk to tell me about it.”
“Yeah, he’s funny isn’t he?”
“A bit crazy.”
Braydon paused to look across the landing and downstairs. “How come the other rooms are not being used?”
“Err, pretty sure they’re being renovated. Should get them sorted soon, for business sakes.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
The American looked at Braydon with a suspicious smile. “Canadian?”
Dare to Read: 13 Tales of Terror Page 5