“But you told me that I’ll have to be bear the consequences after listening to what actually happened here. What did you mean by it?” I asked in a hushed, stubborn voice.
This time he shifted in his chair noisily and cleared his throat.
“Oh, did I? well … urm …sir… I just don’t want that you dwell on the negative energy or about whatever happened here so much… that you start seeing things, sir,” he said uneasily, avoiding my gaze.
My heart sank. He was hiding something from me, and I could sense it in his erratic words. He hadn’t been entirely truthful. Perhaps he’d seen that I was getting a little too interested in things around here.
There was a hint of finality on his face. I understood that I wouldn’t be able to glean more information from him.
“Thank you, Barry,” I mumbled and got up. “I’d rather take a walk.”
Surprised by my conduct, his eyes flashed towards the clock. It was half past six. I had more than an hour to return back to the place. Enough time for me to get myself back on track and to get away from the depraved atmosphere.
Barry rose from his chair and began to shuffle with the keys. As he strode towards the door, I thought I saw something on the staircase. Darker than the dwindling shadows. Standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at us.
And then within the blink of an eye it was gone!
I held my breath as my heart raced. My vision skimmed from the stairs to the landing once again.
It was deserted. As empty as it had been on my first day.
Am I seeing things? There was definitely more to it than a few missing dinnerware sets. I bit my lip.
It was there. I had seen it so clearly. Not taller than myself. But yes, it was there.
Listening and watching!
“Sir?”
I turned my head and saw Barry, standing with the door open.
Feeling angry and flustered with myself, I rose from my chair and tramped across the counter towards the door.
“Barry…I need you to send these early morning. Did Frank call?” I added, my thoughts still on the strange apparition as I shoved my hand deep inside the coat to take out the post cards.
“No, sir, he didn’t. Oh, I see, so you’ve written them—I just hope the car makes through the storm, though.”
“Yeah, I hope so too,” I mumbled, still looking behind me as I placed them in his outstretched hand.
It was a dream after all…Frank didn’t send the message!
I turned to leave. The cold, damp air bit my face and my eyes scrunched.
“Sir?”
“Yes?” I asked absentmindedly. My other hand probed for my cellphone. I felt something hard in my back pocket. I was carrying it.
“I was thinking…may be …if you could…”
“Yes?” I said, looking at him suspiciously.
“Well…urm…if you…”
“Spit it out, Barry,” I said irritably. I had plenty of things on my mind that needed sorting.
“Sir, I wanted to ask if you would like to have dinner with me tonight. I’m preparing turkey and fish,” he said promptly.
I laughed loudly. It wasn’t my usual laugh. I could feel its emptiness. Barry’s eager eyes were settled on my face, waiting for approval.
Say No! You’re not in your right mind.
“Of course, Barry. Why not?” I said, trying to muster a smile but all I must have managed was a horrible grimace for Barry’s eyes widened in surprise. “After all, I’m not in the mood of writing today.”
“Oh …thank you, sir. It’s just that it gets really boring. And maybe we could play a board game, if you’d like?”
Nodding with a fake, broad grin plastered across my face, I strolled out of the lobby, leaving the thrilled caretaker inside.
What a fool I am honestly! I muttered under my breath.
Sweat evaporated from my back within seconds in the blistering cold. I treaded across the damp earth, full of shriveled leaves and moss. Dew covered, unkempt grass hugged my knees and a tiny drone of mosquitos flicked out of soil with my each firm step, buzzing loudly.
It was dark already. Moonlight flickered on and off between the clouds as I walked, flashing its intermittent silver beam on my trail. My car was parked the way I’d left. Walking up to it and wiping the drizzle off its bonnet, I leant against it.
I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes. My lungs expanded in delight as if they’d been pleading for a good source of fresh air, brimming with the smell of damp earth. I kept breathing for some time trying to clear my mind. But the unsettling thoughts wouldn’t leave me. Thoughts, not so pensive, burst forth; like cars hitting one another on the highway in one of those rare, vicious accidents.
I opened my eyes to find the ancient structure staring back at me with its twenty gleaming eyelike windows, sharing with me an ingenuous smile. The curling branches of the giant, amber tree scratched against the walls, ruffling its countenance and filling the air with the sounds that resembled the cry of a child. I saw a weather-beaten swing, hanging from one of the boughs which I hadn’t noticed when I arrived at the motel, moving in slow, steady arcs, moaning in displeasure due to disuse.
The bullying wind began to blow in gusts as leaves rustled and the trees tops fluttered while I scanned the dark gaping hole of dense and black thickets of trees behind the motel.
Was this place really an asylum once? I wondered.
I imagined the half-naked patients running up and down the place, chased by doctors dressed in white with breathing masks over their faces, and the sounds of wheelchairs being dragged. The sour, rancid smell of urine bags and drips must’ve lingered around the place.
Something vibrated under my left buttock. I pulled away from the car. My back pocket quivered again. It was my cell phone.
Someone was calling!
Excitement and relief rode over me and I frantically squeezed it out.
It was Frank!
“Hello, Frank,” I said happily, leaning against the cold bonnet once again, not worrying about the rain drops staining my trousers anymore.
“Who is this?” A groggy voice called out.
“Frank, it’s me, you all right? How’s Ellen?”
“Alfred…it’s you? Hello?”
“Yes…yes. It’s me. The signals here are really bad…can you hear me? hello?”
“Who is this? Where’s my son-in-law?”
“Frank…it’sME,” I roared into the phone.
A static broke out in the phone. And then there was silence.
“Dammit!” I hissed in anger, nearly throwing my phone on the ground.
The signals had once again dropped.
I kept the cellphone high over of my head, waiting in disdain for them to reappear.
Something brushed past my legs. I looked down at once. The grass nodded under the spell of the breeze. Nothing out of the ordinary! A chirp broke the silence. It was followed by another one to my right and then behind me. A frog croaked in distance accompanied by a shrill hoot of an owl on one of the trees. I spun around at the sudden fluttering to my left and saw a cluster of what looked like bats, exploding out of a treetop, and spiraling towards the sky.
The dreadful melody of the night had begun!
Shivering slightly and thinking if Barry had prepared the food or not, I pocketed my phone. I was missing Ellen and the kids and then, suddenly, it hit me. I still hadn’t outlined any of the chapters. Fear of failure loomed once again and its pain rose inside me like a burning knife.
Maybe I was paying too much attention to my surroundings. I needed to stay on the ball and not get distracted, so that I could finish what I’d come here for.
Are you here to solve mysteries? Just forget what’s happened or what’s happening around you. Just focus on the task at hand, I called out to myself, making sure my words were loud enough to penetrate my dull, confused brain.
Lost in my thoughts, I felt a cold draft hit my legs.
Ignore it. There’s nothing t
here. It’s only the wind.
It hit my legs once again like a bucket of ice cold water.
I pretended to ignore it, but of out of the corner of my eye, I kept my legs in view. This time I waited for it. Whatever it was. I could hear my blood hum in my ears, yet I was dearly wishing for it to happen. Just one more time.
And then I froze as a sickly, pale hand, mottled in places slowly crawled out from underneath the car and grabbed my ankle.
Yelping and swearing loudly, I lunged forward away from the bonnet.
I’d seen it. It wasn’t my imagination, after all. It was a hand for sure! With dead and yellow nails like they’ve been kept under water for years.
Scrambling away from the car, I couldn’t hear anything except the pounding of my heart. For a minute or two, I just stared at the shadow underneath the car. The grisly hand was nowhere to be seen. Turning my camera flash on, I bent down, careful not to smudge my hands with the damp mud. I directed the light under the car. Rusty framework and shriveled leaves was all there is.
No sign of a person living or dead underneath the car!
I straightened and looked around, still unable to register what had happened.
“Sir…Dinner’s ready!” A voice called out from behind me.
Barry was standing in the open doorway, wearing an apron around his neck.
I quickly shoved the phone back inside my trousers and walked across the lawn towards the door.
“Everything all right, sir?”
“Yes, I think so,” I shrugged, careful not to look in his eyes.
I entered the warm foyer and felt sickly hot once again.
“Where are we going to eat?” I asked, straining my neck to see any movement on the stairs
“I’ve set the dinner table in the kitchen, sir, but we can eat it over here, if you want.”
“No…it’s okay… I’d rather eat somewhere else,” I said quickly.
Chuckling, Barry closed the door and beckoned me to follow him. I squeezed myself through the gap in the counter and trailed after him. He opened a rusty metal door to the left and led me straight into the kitchen. I caught a glimpse of an unmade bed in the room on the right; probably it was his restroom. Past the two doors, wide carpeted stairs flowed up and disappeared out of sight in the somber shadows.
With my eyes still lingering on the steps where I’d last seen the apparition, I entered the kitchen. It was a long chamber lit by about ten orange, handmade pumpkins, hanging in midair from the ceiling with the help of what looked like brown strings. Black wallpaper covered the walls, and it seemed that it was the only thing in the kitchen that had been replaced in recent years.
At least three stoves stood in a desolate corner. Fuming pots and pans sat haphazardly around the sink and some on what appeared was a forth relatively new stove, from where rose chimneys coated with tenacious charcoal. My eyes darted over a stack of thick, hard-covered recipe books on the shelf near the fridge, and some of them were sprawled open near the dishes.
A table covered with a flimsy satin (I was sure that it must’ve served the purpose of a curtain many years ago) stood in the center with about eight sloppy, wooden arm chairs bunched around it. I looked in the middle of the table from where a delightful and delicious smell wafted towards me, driving me away from my worries. A large silver platter displayed a golden-brownish, grilled turkey surrounded by baked potatoes which were cut in curls. Beside it, with the flask of orange juice and a bowel of Russian salad stretched another platter full of crisp brown fish stuffed with an eggplant.
“Hmmm...WOW!” I mouthed, smiling broadly and clapping my hands together.
Barry gave one of his usual chuckles, and we settled down.
The scrape and the clatter of cutlery against the plates was the only sound in the kitchen except, of course, the infrequent squeals of the grandfather clock in the foyer that sounded abysmally loud as we ate in silence.
“It’s r’eally goood,” I muttered through a mouthful of eggplant. I gulped it down quickly, and said, “I’m sorry… looks like I could’ve eaten a gargoyle—it’s my fourth helping! Oh God, I’m so full…thank you so much, Barry. ”
“Not at all, sir. Not--at--all,” said Barry clumsily, waving his hand in mid-air as he loaded his plate with the salad. “It’s really nice to have you around here, otherwise the place gets on my nerves, sir. With nothing else to do, I spend most of the time tending to my own holistic health.” He finished, pointing to his pendulous tummy.
I laughed heartily, nodding my head in approval. It was the first time in my life that I’d tasted food that was cooked better than Ellen.
Soon, Barry had cleared away the plates. I felt warm and sleepy. Yawning and stretching, I saw him turning the electric kettle on and turning towards the fridge. Standing on his toes, he brought down what looked like a flat, rectangular box from the top of fridge and ferried it neatly in front of me.
It was Monopoly!
Mounds of dust and damp box was enough to tell me that it was at least three decades old.
“Why don’t you rearrange all of this while I pour us both a cup of coffee,” said Barry, grinning broadly. He didn’t look sleepy at all.
I wasn’t in the mood of playing a board game. It was nearly midnight and my cold feet longed for the warmth of my bed.
Not wanting to break his heart, I smiled at him and began shuffling the fake cash that felt damp and coarse under my hands like one of those papers that are kept in the attic for a long time, and you get a queer feeling that they’d crumble away into dust with the slightest of the touch.
We played silently for an hour. There was not much talk except Barry’s flow of chatter. I learnt that he wanted to start a bakery and how he would love to renovate the whole motel so as to make the place more profitable. I noticed the shadows getting longer and darker as the candles inside the pumpkins burned low. I’d just finished building my fourth house on Mayfair when a loud creak from behind me made me jump so badly that I nearly knocked the board game off the table.
Barry eye’s narrowed on the doorway. For a moment, it looked like as if he could see what it was.
My eyes jumped from his face to the door. Nothing was visible except the light, paving its way from the lobby.
“Barry?” I asked him.
But he kept gaping at the door.
And then, I noticed that his mouth was slack, eyes wide and unfocused. His breathing had become raspy and erratic. It looked as if he was choking on something.
Perhaps fear!
I leaned away from the door and crept up to him, with a heavy, sick feeling in the stomach, silently cursing myself for eating so much.
My neck prickled at the thought that there was a presence in the corridor which only Barry could perceive. With my fists clenched tightly and my feet tingling, I touched his left shoulder gently.
Swearing loudly, he hustled to his feet as the chair fell with a loud bang on the wooden floor.
He looked at me with bleary eyes, apparently dazed and confused, and then in a flash--it dawned upon him; his expression quickly changed to one of vexation.
“Oh…I’m really sorry…sir. I must’ve dozed off, that’s all,” said Barry, smiling embarrassingly as he grabbed the chair and pulled it upright. “I guess it’s time for bed.” He finished and gave me a nervous nod.
I barely stopped myself from asking what he’d seen. He was so jittery that I thought that my queries could wait.
“Okay…well …I’d better leave you to your work then,” I said awkwardly, still eyeing him closely for a hint. I saw that his knuckles were white and shaking as he held the crest of his chair.
“Yes, of course …err…goodnight, sir,” he mumbled, shoving his hands quickly behind him and ignoring my gaze all together. His ashen-white face shimmered with sweat as he gave me a final, fleeting look and then shaking his head, he began to collect the mugs off the table.
I shuddered at the idea of walking through the same doorway without the caretaker
, who himself looked close to fainting.
I took a deep breath, threw one final glance at Barry who was now washing the plates and walked straight out of the kitchen.
“Keeping walking…Don’t look around, Alfred…Keep walking.” My inner voice sung a chorus and before I knew, I was through the bizarre shadows and standing outside my room. I turned the icy-cold knob, flung myself inside and banged the door shut, without waiting to look behind me.
I closed my eyes and sighed deeply. With my hand clutching the left side of my chest and my head spinning, I noticed that the sconces in my room had been switched off. Not feeling the urge and the inspiration to light them again, I turned to collapse on my bed but nearly stopped myself from screaming as my heart crawled upwards into the middle of my throat and froze.
Problem was, someone was sitting on it already!
Chapter 12: A Killer Among Us
I tried to scream louder than the screaming gale outside. But all I could manage was muffled desperate squeals. The shadow straightened, got up and stretched itself. Turning on its heel, it looked straight where I stood. I thought I saw a pair of gleaming red eyes.
I scurried backwards and my back hit the door.
Slowly, it began to walk towards me. I noticed a Fedora bowler and heard the elegant swish of its long overcoat.
But something was different!
The room didn’t feel cold at all, and I didn’t see my breath misting before me. I tried to think calmly yet my mind in circles, pondering over the available escape routes. There were none.
I was trapped between the entity and door. I tried to remember the last time I was in a brawl. It was in high school,and my opponent was a lot older and heavier than me. They called him theAbominable Snowman, and when he was finished pounding my body like some stubborn steak, all I had managed by the end of it was a yearlong leave from school. I had landed myself in the hospital and that too in a pretty bad shape; a dislocated jaw, broken ribs, flail chest and worst of them all, a ruptured kidney. No wonder the students called him Yeti. The doctors had to pass a chest tube in the hospital so that my left lung could expand again as it normally would. I still had that mark on my chest where the silicone tube pierced my intercostals.
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 10