Hauntings

by Lewis Stanek

  A young couple, lovers obviously, stopped arm in arm, in front of a store and gazed into the shop window. The young woman pointed at something on display and they both laughed. A jewelry shop, I bet, Randal thought, She just pointed out the engagement ring she wants, he said to himself under his breath for no one to hear. They walked away crossing the street arm in arm. Randal felt a brief pang of jealousy, I'll have a serious relationship someday, there is no hurry, I'm still young. I have a little too much baggage for such things now. Randal reminded himself as he walked past the shop. Randal glanced into the shop window to confirm that it was a jewelry store fully expecting to see a display of rings, bracelets, watches, and such, but arranged in the window was a selection of small household appliances. Go figure, Randal wondered what could have been so funny, they laughed aloud pointing at a blender. Must be newlyweds, the new hasn't worn off yet. Everything is still new and exciting. Randal shrugged and kept walking.

  Soon the street lamps became fewer and farther apart, the buildings along the street were an eerie mix of those structures that survived the allied bombings of WWII, ancient by American standards easily a hundred or more years old, buildings with dramatic details such as gargoyles standing guard along the rooftops, intermixed with soulless, but functional, relatively new and plain structures little more than concrete boxes built after the war to provide cheap housing for the survivors. Functional, that's the kindest thing that can be said about most post war architecture.

  Randal trudged his way to the hostel, the cool air at first refreshing, now felt biting to the skin of his face. Randal raised his collar against the cold. Nearing the end of the business section of town, Street lamps few and far between. He hoped he was headed in the right direction, Randal had no desire to sleep on the street tonight.

  Looking ahead Randal saw midway up the next block a large Victorian styled home with a wrap around porch. He couldn't be sure from this distance, but it looked as if there was a sign hanging above the porch steps. A light mounted beside the door provided sufficient light to make out the shape of the sign, but not enough to read what it said in the dark. It might be the hostel, or it might be the local dentist's office for all he could tell. Randal had come this far, and with nothing to lose he continued on, hoping the big Victorian house was the hostel. At worst he could maybe sneak under the porch for a night's sleep out of sight of passersby. The wind was picking up and it felt noticeably colder, the wooden sign above the porch steps rocked in the wind creaking on rusty chains holding it above the threshold to the porch. Feels like a storm is brewing. Randal thought, hoping he wouldn't have to settle for a night under the porch.

  Close enough now and facing the porch from the walk he could tell that the sign was wooden, painted white with big black letters indicating that this was indeed the Theadora Hostel. Tired from the day, Randal climbed the stairs and tried the door. It was locked. He rang the bell, waited a moment and rang it again. He leaned a little to the right to take a peak through one of the tall windows along either side of the door to see if anyone was coming. About to ring the bell one more time before giving up and seeking an easy way under the porch, he caught a glimpse of an elderly man making his way down the staircase opposite the front door. Randal knocked lightly on the window glass and waved to the old man coming down the stairs through the window pane. The old man gave a weak wave back as if to say I'm coming, I'm coming already, be patient with me I'm old and tired.

  Randal waited as the old man gingerly made his way to the door unlocked the deadbolt, chain and finally the slide lock at the top of the door. He slowly pulled the door open allowing a welcome breeze of warm air to caress Randal's face. The old man stood back holding the door open allowing him in.

  “Thank you, I was beginning to worry I'd have to sleep outside tonight.”

  “We can't have that, no we can't have that can we? Not while we have space available here at Theadora's.” The old man creaked his way across the floor to what must have been the registration desk. He opened a large dark green ledger, flipped to the current page and pushed it across the desktop for Randal's consideration.

  “We don't have a private room available for you tonight, but we do have a cot available in the dorm. If that will suit you, please sign in.” He handed Randal an old fountain pen, not a ball point, but an actual fountain pen.

  “I haven't seen one of these outside of my grandmother's house.” Randal said casually.

  “Your grandmother must be a woman of breeding, maintaining the fine art of calligraphy” the old man replied.

  “I suppose, I never thought about it before.” He carefully signed his name on the first blank line in the ledger, taking care not to tear the paper with the sharp tip of the pen, but he did leave a deep blue blotch of ink on the paper at the end of his name. His host blotted his signature dry and closed the book.

  “It's interesting what one considers worth their interest and what is not, it tells a lot about a man.” The old man said. “That will be eighteen euros.” the old man watched Randal closely as he counted out the money. Randal slid the money across the desktop it to him without comment.

  “I'll show you to you bed.” Randal followed him up the stairs to the first landing. The old man indicated to be quiet by holding his forefinger to his lips. “People are sleeping” He whispered. Pushing open the door revealed a large room dimly lit by a floor lamp with a Tiffany stained glass shade. There were two rows of single beds along the length of the room, most of the beds already occupied. The sound of slow rhythmic breathing accentuated by occasional snorts and snores filled the room. In the corner was what must have been considered the lounge, an area set aside for relaxation, perhaps socialization. There was a couch and a couple of club chairs centered around a television and an old fashion cabinet style stereo from the sixties.

  “Which bed is mine?' I asked.

  “Take whatever you like, within reason.”

  “Within reason?”

  “Don't try to take someone else's bed. It's more peaceful this way.”

  “I see, I think I'll take that one near the entertainment center.”

  “Entertainment center?” I pointed to the television and the old stereo.

  “Oh, yeah, right, entertainment center. I've got to remember to put that one in the brochure, maybe raise Theadora's rates.” He said chuckling to himself.

  “If you get up early you might be able to grab a little of the complementary breakfast we offer.”

  “Complimentary breakfast?”

  'You'll see if you get up early enough, if there is any left. I'll save you a cup of coffee in any case” He said smiling, the old man appeared to have taken a liking to Randal. Randal felt it with distaste, he'd just as soon the old man hadn't. He dropped his duffel bag on the bed and took a seat in one of the club chairs. The old man eyed watched him closely.

  “Just thought, I'd relax a bit before going to sleep.” Randal said feeling he needed to explain himself.

  “Fine, good, just be quiet. I don't want you waking any of the other guests. I don't take kindly to complaints from the guests ruining my day first thing in the morning.”

  “Gotcha” Randal replied, leaning back against the padded back of the chair. It felt good to be off his feet. The old man turned and walked away Randal watched him make his way silently across the darkened room, glad to see him go. He had forgotten to ask where the latrine was. glancing about the room looking for a sign indicating the way to the restrooms. Too tired to care Randal unlaced then pushed his boots off one by one, then stretched out his legs. Randal had every intention of getting up from the club chair and laying down on the bed, but the next thing he knew a whispered voice called him.

  “What do you think of our host? He reminds me of the butler from the Rocky Horror Picture Show.” Randal stifled a laugh at the reference.

  “Now since you mentioned it, he does look a little off kilter.” Randal replied. Glancing around he noticed a young man laying in bed with one arm cocked
at the elbow, propping his head up on his open palm.

  “Don't let me keep you up, Bela wouldn't be pleased.”

  “Bela?”

  “Our host, I have to call him something, he didn't give me his name.”

  “He does look a little like a long lost relative of Vlad the Impaler if you ask me.”

  “Vlad, Bela six of one half a dozen of the other, but now since you brought it up Vlad has a certain ring to it that Bela lacks. Vlad it is. Vlad reminds me a little of the butler in the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Have you ever seen it?”

  “The night before I was inducted, I made a night of it getting drunk with my buds and going to the midnight movie in town. There were people dressed in character all over the place. It was a He didn't tell him about barfing up his guts after the show in the theater parking lot behind the dumpster. That would be a little too much sharing for a first meeting. “A couple hours later the recruiter was pounding on my front door to get me up and off to AFFEEs.

  “What the hell is AFEEs?”

  “That's the place where they process all the new recruits before shipping them off for basic training.”

  “So you're a soldier?”

  “Not anymore. I just mustered out, thought I'd see what there is to see over here before I go home, thought I might walk out a few of the kinks I pickled up in the war.”

  “Oh” he looked thoughtful, as if he was trying to process something difficult to digest. Randal changed the subject.

  “Do you know anything about a haunted castle around here somewhere?” He asked with a smile.

  “A castle?”

  “Yeah, some of the natives were telling me about an abandoned castle a few miles from here that is supposed to be haunted. I thought they were just trying to pull my leg, you know have a little fun with the out of towner, that sort of thing, but this old woman came up to me and she seemed to be pretty serious about it all. I think she believed it. She said she experienced it herself when she was young.” Randal remembered Inga's story well enough and thought about sharing it with him, but that wasn't necessary.

  “There are a lot of haunted places around Europe. There is a lot of history and a lot of death and tragedy in our past. Wars, plagues, and more wars. If our ancestors weren't busy killing each other they were busy dying from famine or the plague. I Imagen if we were really attuned to the supernatural we couldn't take a step without bumping into some sort of sprite, spirit, or demon bobbing up around us.” Randal didn't mention that the history of America didn't begin and end with the coming of Europeans and that American history easily contains as much death and destruction as that of Europe, but why bother. He looked to be serious about the supernatural and occult. If he had anything worth saying, Randal was willing to listen.

  “So do you know anything about a haunted castle in town or don't you?” He prodded.

  “I'm just passing through like yourself. I don't know the local history, but I would be interested in finding out. If I can find out where this castle is and get a few right minded people together I'd be interested in doing a little urban exploration and maybe a little ghost hunting while I'm at it. Randal would you be interested in joining me?”

  “Are you talking about breaking in?”

  “I wouldn't necessarily put it that way. We don't even know if this castle exists, but if it does, I want to find it. Are you in or not?”

  “Sure, but I'm going to get a little sleep before we go on our ghost hunt.” Randal eased myself out of the club chair, moved my duffel bag to the floor and lay on the bed without bothering to get undressed or under the covers. He closed his eyes hoping my new friend would take the hint. He didn't say a word, but had to break the silence.

  “What did you say your name is?” Randal asked.

  “I didn't, sorry about that. I get carried away and forget to introduce myself sometimes. You can call me Ozzie.”

  “Alright then, see you in the morning Ozzie.”

  “In the morning then.” He replied.

  Waking to a harsh cacophony of voices that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, surrounding Randal where he lay. Hesitantly I opened his eyes to the bright light of the florescent lights hanging from the dorm room ceiling. The warm light of an autumn day awaited him outside, but inside the dorm room it was cold heartless artificial light of a factory. Randal lay on his back and listened to the sounds assailing him. Sounds of voices male and female, sounds of flatware clinking against plates, cups against saucers, then the aroma of bacon, sausage, and coffee stirred his mind to wakefulness. It was breakfast if I got up in time to eat before it was all gone, isn't that what Vlad the impaler had implied when he told me about the complementary meal. At least the price is right. Randal sat up still dressed from the day before. Ozzie sat on the bed across from him holding a plate full of eggs and sausage and toasted English muffin.

  “If you want some breakfast you better get up and hurry while you're at it. The wolves are loose.” Ozzie pointed in the direction of the noise where a buffet table had been set up surrounded by a ravenous gaggle of guests.

  “I suppose I better get something while there is still something to be get.” Randal said getting to his feet and following his nose to the table where he discovered a series of hot plates with scrambled eggs, sausage and bacon alongside plates of bread, sweet rolls, muffins and such. Coffee, tea, milk and juice were available. It was some spread they put out considering the price, maybe it is some sort of non-profit organization. Randal thought while grabbing a plate and serving himself some eggs, he missed the last of the bacon, but the aroma lingered. Randal did get a piece of sausage, some toast, and a cup of black coffee though. Returning to what called the social area last night, Randal claimed one of the club chairs, putting his cup and plate on a nearby end table and began his breakfast. He was glad to have found a place of relative quiet to enjoy his food.

  From where he sat he could see Ozzie standing at the entrance to the lobby where the buffet was served talking to a lanky woman with a pale complexion, wearing too tight jeans, a loose flowery top, and wooden multicolored beads hanging loosely around her neck. With her long straight ebony hair flowing loosely over her shoulders She looked to be hippie lost in time, straight from the sixties. Morticia Addams as a hippie, that is the look who's time has not come. He thought as he swallowed the last of his eggs. Taking a gulp of coffee to wash the last of his food down and Randal watched Ozzie and Morticia coming his way. He stood up to dispose of dishes.

  “Randal! Randal, great news!” Ozzie called to him across the room. Glancing in their direction and saw Ozzie pulling Morticia behind him.

  “Hey Ozzie.”

  “ Randal this is Bridget.”

  “Hi Bridget.” He said trying to keep a straight face, but the image of Morticia in a hippie costume wouldn't leave his mind. He managed not to laugh, but he may have smiled a little too broadly.

  “Hello Randal.” She replied with a little half smile half smirk of her own.

  “Randal, Bridget knows about the Castle.”

  “What?”

  “She knows about the Castle by the river.”

  “Castle Reuversweerd” Bridget corrected. Randal walked over to a gray plastic bin set out to collect all the dirty dishes and utensils, he placed my plate and fork inside. Holding onto his cup hoping to gain a second cup of coffee from the urn before it was put away. Ozzie followed Randal to the urn dragging Bridget behind him. Refilling his cup with coffee tilting the urn forward to get the last few drops.

  “ So Bridget, are you from around here?” Randal asked.

  “I've been here before, last summer actually. I liked it so much I came back to relive some memories so to speak. Last year I took a trip on a tourist barge along the river Weerd. You can see the castle from the river t and at night they say strange things go on there.”

  “Strange how?”

  “I was on the barge in the lounge serving drinks and one of the bargemen was telling stories trying to scare the
passengers and impress the girls with their tales. At the least they were trying to earn some tips.”

  “What kind of barge was this? What was it carrying anything besides passengers?” He asked.

  “Just passengers as far as I know. It was a tourist barge, I could have gone as one of the passengers, my parents gave me the trip as a present for being my class valedictorian, but I wanted the extra money I could have if I worked my way on the barge. They let me cash in my ticket and I got a job as a combination waitress and all around gofer.”

  “We have an intellectual among us.” Ozzie commented with a wink and a grin. Randal thought she may have more character than appearances would tell.

  “Do you want to hear about the castle or not?” Bridget asked a bit peeved at Ozzie's comment.

  “Yes, please go on.” Randal replied

  “Anyway, the bargemen told a story about the castle, they said a baron owned the castle and live there during World War II, but the Nazi's took the place over and did all sorts of ghastly things there. When the allied forces attacked the castle, the commandant claimed the baron had given the allies' vital intelligence. They charged him with spying and had him executed the same day. They shot him in front of the castle in view of the river, they made his wife, Theadora watch. The baron fell into the river when he was shot and they just let his body float away to be eaten by the fish. Theadora tried to pull his body out of the river, but she simply wasn't strong enough. They said it took days before his body was retrieved and could be retrieved and prepared for burial.

  When the war ended and most of the Nazi's went back to Germany, the Baroness Theadora would have nothing to do with the castle. She had it boarded up and gave orders that no one should ever be allowed in the castle again. In time she had a small house built next to the castle and lived there quietly for the rest of her life.”

  “That all sounds very tragic, maybe even heroic on the Baron's part, but I didn't hear anything ghostly in your story.”