Chapter Two
6:00 P.M. - 10 Hours Earlier
Heavy drops of rain pounded on the roof and hood of the black SUV. It was dark outside this night, but the beams from the headlights illuminated the pathway ahead. The windshield was fogged to a point where no one could see in or out. The wipers lay dormant on their side, wanting so desperately to clean the thick haze of water. This was the only car in sight, it parked on an incline. It was dominated by the building it rested by; a two story hotel stood firmly on it's ground looking down upon the SUV.
The hotel was built out of wood and was almost twice as long as it stood tall. It looked dull in it's white paint. The paint had began to fade and turn brown from the mud and and years of stormy weather. A large flight of stairs led up to a massive front porch. Weeds grew from underneath the porch and broke through the wood flooring. An old wooden rocking chair and a few sad looking plants were all of the porches decor. Just above was a balcony that was equal in length and in damages. Shutters hung carelessly of their hinges. The banisters were chipped and some had completely broken off. A tree on one side of the building had toppled over and found a new home resting on the side of the hotel. It was clear that the building hadn't had any attention in a very long time.
The SUV's headlights shut off and the car faded into the vast dark emptiness. A healthy, strong looking young man sat in the driver's seat. He had fair skinned complexion, with bright blue eyes and well kept wavy brown hair. The drivers seat was warm from his four hour drive to arrive here at this place. The young man sat still, contemplating whether or not he should step out. Wondering if what he was about to go into was the best idea. He sat straight up, with excellent posture; his hands at his sides. A deep breath slowly escaped through his pursed lips as his eyes fastened shut for a moment. Thin tears ran down his pale cheeks. A slight whisper of words slipped out of his mouth,
"Get out of the car" he murmured. His now reddened eyes gradually opened, and he wiped away any evidence of tears. On the passenger seat sat a lone blue duffel bag that appeared to fairly stuffed. The driver leaned over and unzipped the bag and then opened up the glove box. He rifled through some papers and grabbed what he was searching for, a revolver. Pulling it out he momentarily hesitated, but then slipped it into the very bottom of his bag and zipped the bag back up. He grabbed the duffel and yanked the keys out of the ignition and pushed his door open. His feet planted on the wet, slick ground and he slammed the door shut behind him. He now stood face to face with the building that that leered over him. As if it were peering down right in his eyes, judging him. The rain poured down upon him, covering him head to toe in water, but he stood dead still. Temporarily paralyzed. With all his might he tried so desperately to move his feet towards the stairway, but he could not do it.
The front porch suddenly became illuminated and the light knocked him out of his trance. The large front door creaked open and light from inside poked out as well a lanky thirty something man named Mark. He stood a little over six feet off the ground and weighed as much as junior high student. Half of his face was covered in hair due to quite a prominent beard and a head of disheveled hair that draped down his pasty white face. He wore sneakers that were probably once white as a sheet of paper but have since discolored into some muddy shade of brown. His jeans were worn down and had holes in them that weren't there when he bought them. An oversized black t-shirt blanketed his lengthy upper torso.
He stepped out onto the porch and and cupped his hands in a semi circle covering his eyes from the porch light. He could make out a vague and immovable silhouette standing before the porch steps. "You must be John", he yelled in the hopes that it was a person who stood before him. The silhouette moved forward and revealed the twenty five year old and more appropriately dressed, John. He was a little below six foot and had a good build to his body. Not rail thin, and not in need of any desperate diets. His brown hair matted down from the hair and water dripped down precariously down his face. The shoes he wore were brand new and had now all but been ruined by the mud he stood three inches deep in. His jeans were faded, but well pressed. His white and blue striped shirt was buttoned up and slightly dressy and was almost see through due to the water that had taken over him.
He walked to the bottom step, "And I'm guessing your Mark? The director right?" he yelled back.
Mark nodded his head and smiled and waved his hands in a gesture that was inviting John to get out of the rain. "I am, yes. But we can discuss that inside, so maybe you should get out of that rain huh? The others are waiting, they are all here." Mark said as he started backing up towards the door, hinting even more for John to get a move on.
John hesitated for a moment and surveyed the hotel in it's entirety once more. The whole thing felt foreboding and it struck a kind of nerve in John like he shouldn't walk up those stairs. Like he should turn around and get back in his truck and head home. He looked to Mark and nervously nodded his head, "Yeah I just uh, I just need to um," he stuttered and did not complete his thought. He closed his eyes and took one last breath. His right foot crept onto the first step and the stair moaned. One stair after the other, John's heart beat quickly. With every step he took, the stairs creaked and groaned even louder than the one before. Mark stared at him as if he were a lunatic but smiled all the same.
John finally approached Mark and the doorway and Mark gave him a smile and held out his hand. John had to move his duffel bag from hand to the other in order to return the hand shake, which he did with a fake smile painted across his face. "It's nice we finally get to meet, we are all very excited about this," Mark said.
John nodded and smiled again, "Yeah me to, it's good to get away." Mark gestured John inside the door and John moved cautiously inside. Mark walked in and took a suspicious glare and focused it on the looming darkness that surrounded. He closed the door shut and locked it.
---
Mark had walked John down a long and dimly lit hallway. The green carpets were torn and wood fragments peered through. The wood walls were painted in white and had several chips and tears. Old black and white photos of the hotel and all it's memories were hanging loosely on the walls, covered in a deep gray dust. Light fixtures dangled on the walls, and they flickered on occasion. The building had a very strong musty odor to it, for it hadn't been cleaned or looked after in over fifty years.
"We would like to get started with this right away, we are a little behind schedule," Mark said with his back to John as he was guiding him down the hall. John's eyes wandered curiously over the photos and walls. He ran his finger over one of the pictures and a mountain of dust poured down. "Yeah, sorry about that," John said in a daze as if he didn't know he was speaking.
Mark stopped at an entry way to his left and turned to John, "Oh no biggie man, but let me introduce you to everyone," and he walked into the next room. John soon followed and turned the corner to reveal what appeared to be a parlor. This room was near empty. A few small wood tables were in the back two corners, and a desk stood to the right of the doorway. A dusty old bell sat on the desk. A small stool sat behind the desk, but it had toppled over. The wall towards the back had a key rack that seemed to be missing all of its keys. A few dead plants surrounded the room. A broken chandelier hung from the ceiling and it hadn't produced any light for years. A long white fold out table was perched on the other side of the room and a few chairs sat before it. Various electronic equipment were strewn over the table. A tripod stood next to the table and it housed a large video camera.
Three other people stood in the room and all stood up from their chairs when Mark and John walked in. Elizabeth was around Mark's age and she immediately approached him and gave him a courteous and gentle scratching of his back. They were husband and wife and she could not be more opposite to Mark. She was beautiful and thin. Her face was something made for movies and she had smooth brown hair that reached down to just below her neck. Her smile was to die for and that's exactly what she was doing towards Mark and John. John smiled back, without realizing he even did so. She reached her hand out to John, he shook back.
"It's nice to meet you John. I'm Elizabeth, I'm this guys better half," she joked. Mark sarcastically laughed.
"She's also my assistant, so in this building what I say goes, " He joked back.
He motioned over to the other two people who were standing on the other side of the room. He pointed over to an older woman, Rachel. She was in her early fifties but didn't look a day over thirty. There were no apparent wrinkles, no gray strands of hair. She had well kept blonde hair that was shoulder length. She too was wearing jeans and a simple blue tee shirt and had on a pair of comfortable sneakers.
"Hi I'm Rachel, it's a pleasure to meet you John. I'm really looking forward to this project and being able to work with all of you," she said in a very polite tone. John shook her hand.
"I'm happy to meet you too. I'm looking forward to this." He said back.
Standing next to her was Paul, who looked to be just about John's age. He was more physically fit than John and slightly taller. He had a very appealing and attractive face and his hair was short and dirty blond. His jeans looked to be the type you buy at a high end store that gears towards the younger and hipper youth of America. His red shirt was fitted and had some store logo spread across. He reached out his hand and gave a very firm and assuring hand shake to John and had a huge grin on his face.
"Hey John I'm Paul! I think we are going to have a great time here. Don't know 'bout you, but I'm looking forward to my fifteen minutes of fame, " he said very exuberantly. John smiled, but he was a bit taken aback by Paul's excitement. He didn't even respond to Paul, he just turned back to face everyone else.
Mark stood next to his wife and picked up a camera. "So we are going to start filming this thing here in just a few minutes, but I would love for all of you to get set up in your rooms and make yourself familiar with the hotel. It's going to be a long night," he said.
"Where are our rooms?" Asked John.
"They are going to right up this flight of stairs and there is a row of rooms to the right. Feel free to pick whatever ones you want." Mark said pointing over to a flight of stairs that was just outside another entry way to the parlor. John turned and saw the menacing looking staircase. It was a very narrow set of stairs, that once had carpeting, but had since lost it all. They looked to be crooked and led up to pure darkness. John looked to Mark, and Mark had already been in the process of handing everyone flashlights. "You guys are all going to need these. Most of the bulbs have burnt out, and I just didn't want to replace them. I think it's going to add to the mood anyway," explained Mark.
The group starting collecting their bags and flashlights and began walking towards the staircase. Mark and Elizabeth stayed back to get all their equipment ready. John, Paul and Rachel walked side by side to the stairs. Rachel broke in the conversation, "So John, why did Mark seek you out? He seemed pretty adamant that you were part of this documentary. Do you have experience in film?" She questioned.
Paul looked over to John with a curious look in his eyes. John looked over to the both of them and started to stutter, "Well, I guess you can say I have a bit of a history with this place." He mumbled.
Rachel and Paul looked to John and their interest was peaked. They reached the staircase landing. John started to walk up but Rachel and Paul did not follow immediately. "What do you mean history?" asked Paul.
John's back was to them, and he stopped on the fifth stair. He kind of let out a small chuckle, "Mark didn't tell you." he said with his back still to them.
"No he didn't." spoke Paul.
"He told us that Paul and I were the only ones who had a connection to this place. So how are you connected?" Rachel asked.
John's had still not turned around. "So then you know the story of what happened here?" he asked.
"Quite vividly. I admit I was a bit surprised to learn about it and how my family was part of it. My parents never told me about this place." Paul told him.
"My father was the sheriff of this place and I was just a baby when he was killed by that psycho. I never really knew my father thanks to him. I knew the story vaguely from over hearing conversations between my mom and my aunt but it had never been confirmed until now. And Paul here, his grand dad was uh, he was the mayor of this town. So what's your story John?" Rachel told her story with a bit of despair and sadness in her voice.
John finally turned around to look his two new friends in the eyes. He took a deep breath. "Well you know that psycho you said killed your dad, and killed your grandpa, Paul?" He said with dread.
"Yeah." said Paul. Rachel just nodded her head and she folded her arms.
"Well uh, that psycho," he hesitated. He didn't want to continue talking. "Well he um, he's my grand-father." John looked them straight in the eyes, and spoke these words with fear in his tone. Rachel and Paul just stared back, with blank expressions.
...TO BE CONTINUED.
--Mike--
Heavy drops of rain pounded on the roof and hood of the black SUV. It was dark outside this night, but the beams from the headlights illuminated the pathway ahead. The windshield was fogged to a point where no one could see in or out. The wipers lay dormant on their side, wanting so desperately to clean the thick haze of water. This was the only car in sight, it parked on an incline. It was dominated by the building it rested by; a two story hotel stood firmly on it's ground looking down upon the SUV.The hotel was built out of wood and was almost twice as long as it stood tall. It looked dull in it's white paint. The paint had began to fade and turn brown from the mud and and years of stormy weather. A large flight of stairs led up to a massive front porch. Weeds grew from underneath the porch and broke through the wood flooring. An old wooden rocking chair and a few sad looking plants were all of the porches decor. Just above was a balcony that was equal in length and in damages. Shutters hung carelessly of their hinges. The banisters were chipped and some had completely broken off. A tree on one side of the building had toppled over and found a new home resting on the side of the hotel. It was clear that the building hadn't had any attention in a very long time.
The SUV's headlights shut off and the car faded into the vast dark emptiness. A healthy, strong looking young man sat in the driver's seat. He had fair skinned complexion, with bright blue eyes and well kept wavy brown hair. The drivers seat was warm from his four hour drive to arrive here at this place. The young man sat still, contemplating whether or not he should step out. Wondering if what he was about to go into was the best idea. He sat straight up, with excellent posture; his hands at his sides. A deep breath slowly escaped through his pursed lips as his eyes fastened shut for a moment. Thin tears ran down his pale cheeks. A slight whisper of words slipped out of his mouth,
"Get out of the car" he murmured. His now reddened eyes gradually opened, and he wiped away any evidence of tears. On the passenger seat sat a lone blue duffel bag that appeared to fairly stuffed. The driver leaned over and unzipped the bag and then opened up the glove box. He rifled through some papers and grabbed what he was searching for, a revolver. Pulling it out he momentarily hesitated, but then slipped it into the very bottom of his bag and zipped the bag back up. He grabbed the duffel and yanked the keys out of the ignition and pushed his door open. His feet planted on the wet, slick ground and he slammed the door shut behind him. He now stood face to face with the building that that leered over him. As if it were peering down right in his eyes, judging him. The rain poured down upon him, covering him head to toe in water, but he stood dead still. Temporarily paralyzed. With all his might he tried so desperately to move his feet towards the stairway, but he could not do it.
The front porch suddenly became illuminated and the light knocked him out of his trance. The large front door creaked open and light from inside poked out as well a lanky thirty something man named Mark. He stood a little over six feet off the ground and weighed as much as junior high student. Half of his face was covered in hair due to quite a prominent beard and a head of disheveled hair that draped down his pasty white face. He wore sneakers that were probably once white as a sheet of paper but have since discolored into some muddy shade of brown. His jeans were worn down and had holes in them that weren't there when he bought them. An oversized black t-shirt blanketed his lengthy upper torso.
He stepped out onto the porch and and cupped his hands in a semi circle covering his eyes from the porch light. He could make out a vague and immovable silhouette standing before the porch steps. "You must be John", he yelled in the hopes that it was a person who stood before him. The silhouette moved forward and revealed the twenty five year old and more appropriately dressed, John. He was a little below six foot and had a good build to his body. Not rail thin, and not in need of any desperate diets. His brown hair matted down from the hair and water dripped down precariously down his face. The shoes he wore were brand new and had now all but been ruined by the mud he stood three inches deep in. His jeans were faded, but well pressed. His white and blue striped shirt was buttoned up and slightly dressy and was almost see through due to the water that had taken over him.
He walked to the bottom step, "And I'm guessing your Mark? The director right?" he yelled back.
Mark nodded his head and smiled and waved his hands in a gesture that was inviting John to get out of the rain. "I am, yes. But we can discuss that inside, so maybe you should get out of that rain huh? The others are waiting, they are all here." Mark said as he started backing up towards the door, hinting even more for John to get a move on.
John hesitated for a moment and surveyed the hotel in it's entirety once more. The whole thing felt foreboding and it struck a kind of nerve in John like he shouldn't walk up those stairs. Like he should turn around and get back in his truck and head home. He looked to Mark and nervously nodded his head, "Yeah I just uh, I just need to um," he stuttered and did not complete his thought. He closed his eyes and took one last breath. His right foot crept onto the first step and the stair moaned. One stair after the other, John's heart beat quickly. With every step he took, the stairs creaked and groaned even louder than the one before. Mark stared at him as if he were a lunatic but smiled all the same.
John finally approached Mark and the doorway and Mark gave him a smile and held out his hand. John had to move his duffel bag from hand to the other in order to return the hand shake, which he did with a fake smile painted across his face. "It's nice we finally get to meet, we are all very excited about this," Mark said.
John nodded and smiled again, "Yeah me to, it's good to get away." Mark gestured John inside the door and John moved cautiously inside. Mark walked in and took a suspicious glare and focused it on the looming darkness that surrounded. He closed the door shut and locked it.
---
Mark had walked John down a long and dimly lit hallway. The green carpets were torn and wood fragments peered through. The wood walls were painted in white and had several chips and tears. Old black and white photos of the hotel and all it's memories were hanging loosely on the walls, covered in a deep gray dust. Light fixtures dangled on the walls, and they flickered on occasion. The building had a very strong musty odor to it, for it hadn't been cleaned or looked after in over fifty years.
"We would like to get started with this right away, we are a little behind schedule," Mark said with his back to John as he was guiding him down the hall. John's eyes wandered curiously over the photos and walls. He ran his finger over one of the pictures and a mountain of dust poured down. "Yeah, sorry about that," John said in a daze as if he didn't know he was speaking.
Mark stopped at an entry way to his left and turned to John, "Oh no biggie man, but let me introduce you to everyone," and he walked into the next room. John soon followed and turned the corner to reveal what appeared to be a parlor. This room was near empty. A few small wood tables were in the back two corners, and a desk stood to the right of the doorway. A dusty old bell sat on the desk. A small stool sat behind the desk, but it had toppled over. The wall towards the back had a key rack that seemed to be missing all of its keys. A few dead plants surrounded the room. A broken chandelier hung from the ceiling and it hadn't produced any light for years. A long white fold out table was perched on the other side of the room and a few chairs sat before it. Various electronic equipment were strewn over the table. A tripod stood next to the table and it housed a large video camera.
Three other people stood in the room and all stood up from their chairs when Mark and John walked in. Elizabeth was around Mark's age and she immediately approached him and gave him a courteous and gentle scratching of his back. They were husband and wife and she could not be more opposite to Mark. She was beautiful and thin. Her face was something made for movies and she had smooth brown hair that reached down to just below her neck. Her smile was to die for and that's exactly what she was doing towards Mark and John. John smiled back, without realizing he even did so. She reached her hand out to John, he shook back.
"It's nice to meet you John. I'm Elizabeth, I'm this guys better half," she joked. Mark sarcastically laughed.
"She's also my assistant, so in this building what I say goes, " He joked back.
He motioned over to the other two people who were standing on the other side of the room. He pointed over to an older woman, Rachel. She was in her early fifties but didn't look a day over thirty. There were no apparent wrinkles, no gray strands of hair. She had well kept blonde hair that was shoulder length. She too was wearing jeans and a simple blue tee shirt and had on a pair of comfortable sneakers.
"Hi I'm Rachel, it's a pleasure to meet you John. I'm really looking forward to this project and being able to work with all of you," she said in a very polite tone. John shook her hand.
"I'm happy to meet you too. I'm looking forward to this." He said back.
Standing next to her was Paul, who looked to be just about John's age. He was more physically fit than John and slightly taller. He had a very appealing and attractive face and his hair was short and dirty blond. His jeans looked to be the type you buy at a high end store that gears towards the younger and hipper youth of America. His red shirt was fitted and had some store logo spread across. He reached out his hand and gave a very firm and assuring hand shake to John and had a huge grin on his face.
"Hey John I'm Paul! I think we are going to have a great time here. Don't know 'bout you, but I'm looking forward to my fifteen minutes of fame, " he said very exuberantly. John smiled, but he was a bit taken aback by Paul's excitement. He didn't even respond to Paul, he just turned back to face everyone else.
Mark stood next to his wife and picked up a camera. "So we are going to start filming this thing here in just a few minutes, but I would love for all of you to get set up in your rooms and make yourself familiar with the hotel. It's going to be a long night," he said.
"Where are our rooms?" Asked John.
"They are going to right up this flight of stairs and there is a row of rooms to the right. Feel free to pick whatever ones you want." Mark said pointing over to a flight of stairs that was just outside another entry way to the parlor. John turned and saw the menacing looking staircase. It was a very narrow set of stairs, that once had carpeting, but had since lost it all. They looked to be crooked and led up to pure darkness. John looked to Mark, and Mark had already been in the process of handing everyone flashlights. "You guys are all going to need these. Most of the bulbs have burnt out, and I just didn't want to replace them. I think it's going to add to the mood anyway," explained Mark.
The group starting collecting their bags and flashlights and began walking towards the staircase. Mark and Elizabeth stayed back to get all their equipment ready. John, Paul and Rachel walked side by side to the stairs. Rachel broke in the conversation, "So John, why did Mark seek you out? He seemed pretty adamant that you were part of this documentary. Do you have experience in film?" She questioned.
Paul looked over to John with a curious look in his eyes. John looked over to the both of them and started to stutter, "Well, I guess you can say I have a bit of a history with this place." He mumbled.
Rachel and Paul looked to John and their interest was peaked. They reached the staircase landing. John started to walk up but Rachel and Paul did not follow immediately. "What do you mean history?" asked Paul.
John's back was to them, and he stopped on the fifth stair. He kind of let out a small chuckle, "Mark didn't tell you." he said with his back still to them.
"No he didn't." spoke Paul.
"He told us that Paul and I were the only ones who had a connection to this place. So how are you connected?" Rachel asked.
John's had still not turned around. "So then you know the story of what happened here?" he asked.
"Quite vividly. I admit I was a bit surprised to learn about it and how my family was part of it. My parents never told me about this place." Paul told him.
"My father was the sheriff of this place and I was just a baby when he was killed by that psycho. I never really knew my father thanks to him. I knew the story vaguely from over hearing conversations between my mom and my aunt but it had never been confirmed until now. And Paul here, his grand dad was uh, he was the mayor of this town. So what's your story John?" Rachel told her story with a bit of despair and sadness in her voice.
John finally turned around to look his two new friends in the eyes. He took a deep breath. "Well you know that psycho you said killed your dad, and killed your grandpa, Paul?" He said with dread.
"Yeah." said Paul. Rachel just nodded her head and she folded her arms.
"Well uh, that psycho," he hesitated. He didn't want to continue talking. "Well he um, he's my grand-father." John looked them straight in the eyes, and spoke these words with fear in his tone. Rachel and Paul just stared back, with blank expressions.
...TO BE CONTINUED.
--Mike--
