“I’m fine! Just tripped over a chair.”
Cursing at him and laughing silently at my premonition on how stupid I would have looked if I’d followed my instinct. I had half expected a cougar to jump out of the darkness, pinning me to the ground.
The lights clicked on.
A surprisingly neat room; bigger than the one in my apartment, with a mullioned window, having no curtains or blinds, revealing the distant, dark forest, popped into view. Just below the window, a purple quilt lay neatly on a primitive looking single-bed with a small table to its right on which stood a derelict lamp, repaired in places with the help of brown scotch tape. The wall paper was adorned by golden spoons and forks against a dark background. The mantelpiece stared back, cold and empty, with mounds of old ash lying in its crate, relating the details of those when it was last lit.
Above the fireplace, a large portrait hung loosely from the wall. It depicted a bizarre looking woman, dressed in a low-cut dress. Her long, black hair covered half of her face. She was bending over a fuming cauldron, her arms immersed deep inside the yellowish contents. I tore my eyes away from the peculiar painting to the withering, rocking chair and then to a large stain on the dingy carpet which looked as if it had been recently scrubbed.
Looking at my new abode in awe, I entered the room. The room felt colder and damper than it was in the lobby, smelling strongly of shrubs and vines. I placed my suitcase near the base of the bed and looked at Barry who was watching me out of the corner of his eye, waiting for some sort of approval.
“Thank you, Barry,” I said, smiling at him.
“It’s not much, sir,” he mumbled, “I made sure that the room was fit for living, you see.”
“It’s perfect! I could do with some fire over here, though. It’s pretty damp. But first, I think I’ll unpack and get some shower.”
Barry stood rooted to the spot and then comprehending what I’d said, he trudged towards the doorway, supporting his left limb. Before closing the door, he turned around and said gingerly, “The left tap is for warm water. I’ll bring you something to eat over here. And… sir, please make sure that you don’t open the windows after 8:00, it’s our rule number four. God knows, we’ve had pretty bad accidents.”
I nodded approvingly and for a split second, I thought that his eyes lingered on my suitcase and then, flashing me a tiny but devilish smile, he left without another word, closing the door quietly behind him.
I went up to the door and peaked outside through the keyhole. I saw him limping, slowly edging away from my room towards the counter or the kitchen; nobody knew!
I clicked the lock shut and felt at ease. I started to unpack my clothes, and then I realized that I hadn’t noticed the cabinet which stood in a forlorn corner, waiting to be opened. I was expecting heaps of dust and cobwebs but it was marvelously clean with hardly anything to suggest otherwise. After I’d hung my clothes in the wardrobe, I decided it was time to hide my laptop and the cellphone underneath the bed.
Something about Barry’s smile had left me with a bad feeling!
I bent down on my knees and pushed the laptop and cell phone deep inside the gap between the bed and the carpet. After making sure it was well hidden, I got up and stretched my body, yawning loudly.
Time to shower, I said to myself.
The door opposite the bed opened up on a large washroom with bleak stone walls, a mirror above the acid stained sink and hidden in view, by a flimsy curtain, was a sandy tub and a modern shower; something I immediately felt grateful for. I closed the door shut and bolted it.
Feeling secure, I turned the left tap in the anticlockwise direction and began taking my clothes off. Soon the whole bathroom was full of warm steam. I had just gotten in the tub when my eyes fell on my chest and my heart sank horribly. A red, wide streak traced its way from my left shoulder towards the right iliac fossa. Cautiously, I rubbed my hand over it but perceived not an ounce of pain. I tried to rub it off by applying some soap but it didn’t budge neither did it fade.
Maybe the rain had something to do with it, I said to myself, while making a mental note to follow it up over the next few days in case it turned out to be something sinister. I stood in the shower as the pain in my calves and neck eased a little, and until all my muscles had completely relaxed. Feeling exhilarated and light, I climbed out of the tub, wrapped the towel around my waist, and unlocked the door.
A completely different sight struck my eyes. Bright, red flames were dancing in the crate, while dark shadows drifted aimlessly on the grey carpet. The lights in the room had been switched off, and the sconces in the walls were lit.
Someone had been inside the room!
With my heart pounding in my chest, I ran towards the edge of the bed and got on to my hands and knees, feeling for the two things that I had hid earlier. My hand touched something firm and I pulled it out. My laptop and on the top of it, lay the cellphone; both untouched as I had kept them.
I changed into my grey trousers and the blue jumper; Ellen had gifted me on my birthday. The carpet felt oddly cold and wet so after pulling up my woolen socks right up to my knees, I turned my attention to the door from where a distinct knock rang through the room.
I turned the cold door knob to find Barry humming Menotti, while he held a smoking kettle in one hand and a large tray in the other, looking bleary-eyed.
“Here’s your dinner, sir.”
He ushered in without invitation and placed the tray on the table.
“Um…Barry?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you been inside the room…err…while I was in the washroom?”
“No, sir. Is everything all right?” He looked slightly startled at my enquiry.
I gestured at the burning fireplace and the dimly lit sconces.
“Oh, that…oh, yes. I’m so sorry. Poor memory, you see…err… I came back to make sure that the window was properly bolted, and I thought that maybe you would like them lit, sir.”
Why did he say he hadn’t been in here the first time I asked him? Weird, I wondered.
“Yes, thank you. But I’d rather prefer if you would ask before entering,” I said, frowning reflectively.
“I’ll be careful in future, sir. Enjoy the food. If you’ve any problems…just dial one on this,” he pointed to a black, long necked phone standing erect on a circular base, “and you’ll find me on the other end.”
And then, bowing rather curtly, he dashed towards the door.
I thanked him in a not so polite manner, looking at his back disappear as the gap between the door and frame ceased to exist with a loud thud.
I got up and bolted it.
I picked up the tray and placed it on the bed. I began lifting the lids off the bowls. He had brought me four buttered crumpets with salmon done up someway with pepper, salt and a tinge of honey, and a steamy garlic soup in a silver tureen.
I ate in silence, my ears picking up the sound of the wind as it whistled through the gaps in my room. My eyes danced from on spot to the other. With the lights turned off, I could just discern where everything was. The long shadows of the furniture swam across the floor and on the vivid wall paper. Then I heard voices and footsteps outside my room, and a loud scraping noise followed by a distinct bang of a door.
Someone was leaving or coming, I couldn’t tell.
May be I should go and meet them, I wondered and then the reason for my stay struck me. I told myself firmly that I wasn’t here to make new friends, and instead I needed to focus on my work.
I quickly finished my meal, placed the empty tray back on the table, and turned towards my laptop. Maybe I could outline a chapter or two before falling asleep. I promised myself that before leaving the motel, I’d have the first draft saved on my hard-disk. Rough or neat, it didn’t matter to me. As long as I had something to show Frank and tell him that it was possible, after all.
I settled myself on the top of the bed, which was soft and warm, with my back towards the window; I couldn’t
afford any distraction at the moment. With the laptop on my thighs, I glanced at the maroon background. My eyes fell on the empty, grey bars at the bottom right of my desktop. I clicked open the network icon. It read:
“No connection detected.”
My eyes froze for a second at the error, and then something clicked my mind.
I fumbled for my phone beneath the quilt. Unlocking it with a swipe of my trembling finger, I gaped at the empty corner of my screen where the reception bars should have been. My stomach gave a worried rumble. The bars popped in and out. Standing up on my knees, I twirled towards the window, placing the phone close to the rusty frame. But the signals now stayed stubbornly empty. The forest was as dark as it had been, and the moon was back inside its cold veil of roiling and frothing clouds.
Without thinking for another moment, I immediately gathered the black phone on the side table and dialed one. The phone at the other end was picked up half way during the monotonous tune.
“Hello, Barry here!”
“Hi, Barry. This is Alfred. Is there something wrong with the signals in this area? My phone—”
“Oh, pardon me, sir. It completely slipped my mind to inform you that cell phones and the Wi-Fi don’t work around here.”
“Okay…urm… Is there any way I could call home?” I asked glumly.
“Sir, we have a telephone at the counter but it’s not working since the storm. I guess, a tree fell over the line. But don’t you worry, sir, there’s a drawer in the closet containing variety of postcards. A car comes to pick them up daily, early morning-- you can always write one and give it to me.”
“Ah! That’s a relief. Thank you, Barry.”
“Not a problem-- and just a moment, sir. There’s a storm coming up. I’ve placed some spare wood in the very closet, in case you need it. And by midnight, this phone will stop working as per rule number fifty seven so if you need anything else, you’ll have to come up to main lobby. Is that fine with you, sir?”
“Towards the reception?”
“Precisely, sir.”
“Well…it shouldn’t be a problem, I guess. Goodnight, Barry.”
“Goodnight, sir.”
I dropped the phone back on the table and bit my lip at the thought of being completely cutoff from my family.
Don’t fret over it, Alfred. You can always send the postcards tomorrow.
I caught glimpse of the clock on the top of my desktop.
Half past eleven!
An owl hooted outside my window followed by a loud scraping noise.
I’ll start tomorrow, reassuring myself, I crawled into the warm bed and pushed my legs deep inside the quilt. Minutes ticked by, and my eyelids began to weigh heavily upon my eyes. Soon my mind became dull and cloudy and then, before I knew it, I was drooling all over the mushy pillow, fast asleep.
Chapter 5: A Bad Dream?
I woke up to the sound of rain knocking on my bedroom’s window. The phone on the table was ringing. I opened my eyes just a fraction to find that the room was still dark. At first, it took me a moment to realize where I was. The murky furniture gradually loomed into view, and the events of the preceding night hit me like a pail of water. I wasn’t in my apartment room anymore. I was at Barry’s Lodge! The gossip of the birds outside my window reverberated through my heavy head.
Yawning heavily, I leaned forward to pick up the phone, with my legs tucked deep inside the balmy quilt.
“Ello?” I asked in a hoarse voice.
“Sir, Barry here. I’m heading to town for groceries. Martha, my wife, will be here to address your queries while I’m gone. Please, don’t mind her, sir…umm…she’s a bit jumpy these days.”
“Oh, no problem, Barry…what’s the time?
“It’s 11:00, sir. I think I’d better hurry up…they say in the news that a storm worse than this is coming up.”
“Okay…err… Barry….could you do me a favor and tell her that I’m up and ready for breakfast?”
“I’ll send her right away, sir.”
I hung up the phone and rubbed my eyes.
Time to write! A voice chimed in my head and I got up.
Taking my toothbrush and the shaving kit out of the luggage and with determined steps, I went straight to the washroom. The tap water was crisp, and it dug deep on my scooped hand as I brought it to my mouth. Perhaps, the boilers had malfunctioned during the storm. I was glad that I didn’t take the thought of having another shower too seriously, otherwise they would have to gouge me out of the tub.
Cleaning my mouth with the help of the towel, I blinked at the reflection in the mirror. A saggy eyed, middle aged man with early male pattern baldness stared back at me.
You’re getting old, Mr. Writer!
I was just smiling at myself when it hit me. I immediately rolled my sweater to expose my lean chest. A red streak still ran across it like a bridge, and now I could appreciate a hue of periwinkle against the red background.
I haven’t hit anything. What is this? I asked myself, tracing it with my fingertips. It was still painless but it seemed as if it would turn out to be an extremely ugly bruise. I pulled the jumper down over my trousers with my mind contemplating the idea of a contusion without prior trauma.
Knock! Knock!
Two small beats tore my thoughts away from my affliction as I shuffled towards the door, scratching my head. The wet towel hung loosely around my neck.
Seizing the metal knob swiftly, I opened the door.
A brawny looking woman in her early forties with round astonishing eyes, stared back at me from behind the round, steel-rimmed spectacles that rested on her extremely potato shaped nose.
“Mr. Alfred?” Her voice was harsh and cold; the sort of voice that would compel you to think twice before getting into an argument with her. The smell of cigarettes hit me like a tight slap across my face as she opened her mouth.
“Yes, please come in.”
The woman walked in with a peculiar, broad based gait and ferried the tray roughly on the bed. She straightened, threw me a weird, terrifying glance, and turned to leave.
“Umm…Martha is it?” I asked reluctantly.
The woman did not speak. Her mouth opened in an O. I saw her eyes move from the towel around my neck, to my jumper, and then at my woolen socks. Finally her eyes rested on my face, looking puzzled.
“Oh, I was wondering if you could tell me if any car is coming to pick up the post cards. I need to send two.”
“It won’t come today.”
“I thought Barry told me last night that it comes every day.”
I saw her eyebrows frown as she tilted her head towards window. I turned around to look at it and saw raindrops the size of small pebbles beating inconsistently against the drizzle covered window.
“Oh, you mean the storm?” I asked in a friendly tone, in hope to get a better answer from her.
Raising her eyebrows, she nodded at me and then bowing rather crudely, she edged towards the door. She opened it just a crack, turned her head around to give me a long, hard stare and then stepped outside, closing the door behind her.
I could hear her footsteps receding as the rain picked up speed. My stomach gave a loud rumble. Two French toasts with a cheese omelet and a pair of large grilled sausages lay on separate plates, with a silver thermos in the midst. I decided to quickly finish it so that I could resume my writing process earlier today.
After a few minutes, sipping away on hot black coffee and puffing on the cigarette, I perched myself on the center of the bed with my laptop open in front of me. I logged in and looked sulkily at the absent Wi-Fi bars. I clicked on “My computer” and went straight to the ‘unfinished projects’ folder. I opened the document and began to read where I’d last left it. Only three chapters had been outlined. I noticed the date it was last updated. Five years ago!
I began to read, furnishing ideas that seemed good at that time but now sounded futile and unrealistic.
No…no… that’s not how you’d react to t
his. I told myself, highlighting the phrase in front of me as I began to edit.
He becomes angry at her for not telling him not laugh--
Boom!!
A loud rattling noise from overhead jolted me out of my thoughts. I seized the laptop with difficulty as it escaped my lap during my sudden movement. My heart thumped angrily against the ribs while I looked for the source of commotion. The crash had been ear splitting, like a gunshot, knocking me out of my wits.
With my heart still fluttering like a chicken about to be slaughtered, I studied the ceiling. It had come from above me. I was sure of it. The yellowish angry stains from where water had seeped into the cracks stared emptily back at me.
I don’t think it was thunder. The rain was beating as silently as ever.
Then it came again!
Loud scraping noises and creaks from the ceiling filled the room as if someone was dragging the furniture. Then, it was followed by silence.
I waited in shock and dismay.
The whole room shook once again as the deafening crash of china pierced my ears.
Swearing and hissing, I got out of the bed and seized the phone from the table, and dialed one. I listened to the same, monotonous tune waiting for someone to receive it.
What in the name of God are they doing? I told myself in a disgruntled tone.
Someone picked up the phone on the other side.
“Hello?” I asked rather too sternly for what I’d planned, trying very little to keep myself calm.
No one spoke back.
“Hello?” I asked again.
A sudden static in the speaker made me pull away from it.
With another loud swear, I banged the phone back on its circular base and felt immediately grateful that I didn’t break it.
Breathing heavily, I grabbed it again and poked at the number.
The Haunting At Barry's Lodge (Gripping Paranormal Private Investigator Suspense Novel): Unexplained Eerie Story of the Supernatural and A Dark Disturbing Psychological Thriller with a Killer Twist Page 5