Following
Written by MrSimple
Edited by Trismegistus Shandy
A dusky sky was barely seen between the car window and web of shaded black branches of trees. I wasn’t sure when we’d be getting to the hotel, but for now, I was getting sleepy. Dad could keep driving and wake me up whenever we got there.
But just to be on the safe side, I asked, “Dad? Can I take a nap?”
“Eric…” From the quick and sharp call of my name, I could tell Dad was irritable and I shouldn’t have bothered him.
He was frustrated and I couldn’t fault him for that. I believed we were lost. So on that note, I shut up and returned my gaze to outside the window. “We’re almost there,” he replied with that same answer for the third or fourth time.
A sigh escaped and Dad’s voice followed. “Keep your eyes open for a Saint Lyn.”
Stuffing my yawn someplace for later, I said, “Whatever.”
“Eric, please.” I supposed that wasn’t the right response Dad wanted to hear. “When we get there, I won’t bother you to help with the luggage.”
“Gee, thanks,” I didn’t feel thankful, but I still mentioned it to make him feel appreciated, even though I suspected he was lying.
Most of what I’d wanted to bring was rejected. No cellphones, laptops, books, or drawing pads. I was expected to come along with my eyes wide open for the Halloween event happening here. But, hey, despite that event being a day away, I was supposed to be happy the whole time. And now I was offered more nothing… Though I doubted this specific offer very much, since labor was involved.
“You will do all the heavy lifting while I lay back and relax?” I had to poke the hornet’s nest and said, “Yeah, right.”
“Scout’s honor,” he pledged between his clenched teeth.
Quite honestly, I didn’t appreciate the gesture because that only meant I’d have to haul the luggage up in the morning. Dad was not gonna bring those up by himself. I thought, ‘Who is gonna hold the doors open for him? Me?’ I doubted Dad was gonna pay an attendee to commit towards something that could’ve been paid in sweat. No, Siree. We had the slogan ‘We Can Do It’ to our family name. That was, what had been our family.
“Happy thoughts,” I quietly muttered to myself. If I really was going to be offered a chance to rest as he did all the work, I’d feel guilty. No, I wasn’t going to allow myself in the hotel empty handed. “Think happy thoughts,” I repeated to myself. Then I turned up the volume. “I’ll keep an eye out,” I said to assure Dad I was handling this current mind-numbing duty seriously. “But I could’ve been more help if you’d let me bring my cell. We could’ve been listening to the GPS giving us directions. No looking at the map, just...”
“Thank you,” he puffed out loud, cutting me off and fully ignoring my input, and returned his full attention to the road. “Eyes on the road, Eric,” he announced, demonstrating where his focus now fell.
So instead of dropping like a fly, I stuck to the window and awaited in a buzz for the opportunity to be free from this mobile prison. My attention was devoted towards the blackening outside world.
And what I saw were the shadows. Those trees painted grey bars on the spread of foliage and stretched over the road, but they were starting to blend together. Now it looked more like those grey bars were closing into a whole field of darkness.
Spooky. I had heard from Mom how weird this place had been. The people of Saint Lyn and neighboring around here were apparently very welcoming to “cultured” -- as Mom put it -- people and ideas. This was my first time here, and so far, I was spooked. And that wasn’t because of the yokels.
Tired as I was, I conjured shapes in that darkness. Being on the move, at this speed, gave those shapes the illusion they shifted, walked, slithered, and stalked after us. I wanted to sleep, and I needed it, but until Dad gave me permission, I would be watching out for a sign to end this nightmare.
“Was that it?” Dad slowed the car down and repeated, “Was that it?”
For his sake -- and kinda mine -- I looked through the rear window for any sign we might’ve missed. “Maybe?” I didn’t catch it, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one there.
Honestly, if there was a sign, then there should’ve been a road or something for Dad to get worked up about. Otherwise I had to wonder, ‘Why is he worried if the road is still going in a straight line?’ I didn’t see any turns anywhere.
“Is your seatbelt on?” At that question, I jerked up like a prairie dog and twisted back around to face the front. “Get your belt on, now!”
Quickly, I dug for the buckle, yanked, strapped myself in, and smiled up in the rear view mirror at Dad. With some luck, my sudden positive attitude would give him pause and he’d forgive my lapse of responsibility.
“Eric...” I heard and knew then that tonight I was far from fortunate. “How many times have I tol--”
In fact, from the immediate force pulling me forward and that nasty belt not digging but tearing into my midsection, I’d have to claim tonight was outright an absolutely charming night. I had only one second to comprehend a portion of what had happened. That Dad’s car had come to a complete stop.
Only for an instant, I was awake for us to behold a once-in-a-lifetime show. That darkness, the collection of shadows I was watching from the window -- well, outside it had gathered. That black night appeared alive, and in that startling instant when Dad stopped the car, all of that darkness came right on in.
That was all I experienced before I finally had my requested and denied nap forced upon me. I was out like a light...
...And woke up shortly after.
‘Very short nap,’ I thought. I didn’t feel like I’d rested well enough for it to have been a long rest, but my body had a hint of an objection. I woke up, shaking my head, knuckling the sleep out of my eyes with a balled up fist, and puffing up my chest and shoulders to stretch out any and all cramped up muscles. And I had a tummy-ache, which I had no remedy for.
“Dad?” I blinked open one eye, and with a peek towards the one occupant in the front seat, I called out again. “Dad?”
“Hm?” With a stray look at the rear view mirror, I caught him looking back at me. “Sleep good?”
And on top of that notice, I realized we were rolling on the road again. I could’ve sworn Dad had done something like slamming his foot down on the brakes. If he’d done that on a whim, it wouldn’t have surprised me. I would’ve expected Dad to act out against me like that. All to teach me a lesson that I’d remember; wear the damn seatbelt or else!
It was that bad attitude that had me with Dad on weekends only. Mom wasn’t the only one who resented that kind of behavior.
But there was something not quite right. Accidental or not, he’d normally be unhappy about me snoozing away right after having established I was supposed to be watching for our elusive sign of that hotel. He didn’t sound like an old grump like usual, but hummed with a curiously intrigued interest. I didn’t know what to think about that because he wasn’t thrilled about my last call for his attention.
Not right. Not right at all.
Disturbed, I wanted to get to the bottom of this polar shift of behavior. I asked, “You okay, Dad?”
“Sure am!” Once he confirmed how A-Okay he was, he mentioned, “We’ll be there in a minute.”
“That was the sign, then?” For a moment, I supposed he must’ve stopped the car in a panicky hurry, and when I passed out, we’d gone and done a U-turn.
“You betcha,” he said, and I caught sight of him giving me a wink in the rear view mirror’s reflection. “Give me a minute and we’ll drive right up on through their entrance.”
Finding our way and not being lost anymore was good enough of an answer to his good mood and I took it. I didn’t have anything else to go with here. So I didn’t give voice to any other concern of that incident and waited for our imminent arrival to Saint Lyn.
And, within a minute, I saw the arch topping the frame of a huge iron gate. It opened almost right away for us. I wondered and thought, ‘Is it automatic?’
“We’re here,” announced Dad. “Ready?”
“I guess?” I wasn’t sure what I had to be prepared for here.
All I saw was an entrance to a property that was absolutely covered with fallen leaves. Those trees lined the driveway in an orderly fashion that gave me the impression they’d been planted by hand. But I found this strip of black asphalt a strange sort. We drove onto it straight from the road. As if the whole road merged into the driveway. That would’ve meant it mainly led towards our destination: the hotel.
That was strange, but if not, then a rare sight to have seen. I wasn’t aware of any roads, especially ones that were practically highways, that directed all traffic to a single location. It was like a road to nowhere, only the one lone road had led us to a solitary place and this was it.
The drive up to the hotel didn’t take as long as I had anticipated. From how the entrance and driveway appeared, I’d imagined the front lawn consisting of a few luxurious acres that would’ve seemingly stretched on and on. Something like a ludicrous abundance of land to exhibit an exquisite atmosphere, an allure for the commoners to appreciate, and to add comfort for the rich guests who’d regularly have experienced such expansive yards. But I’d estimate that the drive up to the building’s front took no more than thirty seconds. That was still a long walk, but I had seen bigger when trekking across farmland.
On the note about walking, Dad slowed the car down to a stop and parked out front of the actual entrance to the hotel. I waited for Dad to kill the engine and the door to pop open and shut before I unbuckled, hopped out of the car myself, and followed him. As I walked around to where he stood, I witnessed him handing the car keys over to a sharp-looking and professionally uniformed stranger with an odd appearance. The oddity: he was more than dressed for work with his full head painted as a bone-white skull.
‘Saint Lyn shocked the world,’ was a phrase I’d read off of the welcome sign into the countryside, and I felt the inhabitants of the area upheld that tradition. But on that thought of tradition, I had to remember how close we were to Halloween. That could explain a bit, but I hadn’t felt that was the scenario here. It was this locale -- not just the hotel -- that was known for being sophisticated in their unique ways. So if that were taken into account, then this shouldn’t have been an outstanding encounter around here. For all I knew, this guy made his living by looking like a Grim Reaper and had the skull appearance tattooed on. I didn’t doubt that more morbid art remained to be seen, hidden beneath his suit.
Now that the initial surprise had passed and I began to acknowledge Mom’s warning that weird wasn’t so truly weird around here, I became resolved. If I saw more employees like Mister Skeleton waiting in attendance for us, I wouldn’t be so surprised.
Since I expected it, I asked, “Want to pop the trunk?”
“It’s not important right now,” Dad commented as he finished interacting with the attending skeleton. “Come on. We should get some rest.”
No argument there. “Sounds like a plan,” I commented right back.
Dad turned to look over at me and gestured with a wave to follow him. I already had a thought to do that in mind, so I hadn’t hesitated walking in after him in through the big double-doors into the hotel’s spacious main lobby.
We closed the distance towards the front desk where another figure participated in a morbid fashion. His dress was as professional befitting his station, but once again, he wore Halloweeny fashion. In this encounter, I looked up and beyond the counter at a man with skin as deathly pale as cold, powdery snow. If I were to judge, I’d put my money down on a bet he’d actually creamed and powdered his face for that look.
Dark and sunken eyes looked us over in turn, Dad first, then me, before he asked, “May I help you, fine Sirs?”
“Stephan and Eric Walter,” replied Dad. But then he had more to say. “It was last minute, so we might be booked someplace irregular.”
The hotel’s first speaking representative requested, “Pardon me for one moment to look for your names, Sirs.”
He looked away from us and down towards an open book. I could tell it was a book from the sound of shifting, that of paper, as the pages were flipped and slipped out and away from those thin-boney fingers.
To keep myself from dropping over dead on my feet, I patiently bounced and rocked on the balls of my heels. While I was being idle, but actively so, I took note that my tummy wasn’t upset anymore. I had to admit, for that to happen before going up to retire in our room, that was a sweet blessing.
That was if Dad’s log of reserving a room were found first. Knowing how we’d gotten lost getting here, and as late as it was, I felt unlucky. I wouldn’t be surprised if our names had also been lost, which would’ve been realistic in any “last minute” calls. It would figure for us to have to leave and find a different place to stay.
As I thought about that, I wondered, ‘Are we going to sleep in the car?’ Not like I hadn’t thought about doing just that before arriving here, but the circumstances would be different. Our comfort was at hand, and to be denied would afflict me with a sourness to disturb my rest, so…
“Happy thoughts,” I told myself. “Think, happy thoughts.”
Tomorrow, we’d be going out to experience a night of Halloween unlike any other. Even if we had a Hell of a night tonight, that coming night was something to look forward to. An event me and Dad would enjoy together, like we used to.
To find a distraction, my attention began to wander around to explore the four corners of the lobby, but stopped when I looked up at Dad. He held out a hand for me to take and smiled down at me, not showing a single bit of his signature impatience I’d grown accustomed to. It was funny, but no longer in a strange way. This felt good. I smirked a little up at him, still not aware of what had him in a happy mood, but I didn’t want to mess that up. I took the offered palm and he gave my smaller hand a firm but gentle squeeze.
“Ah yes, I’ve found your reservation, Mr. Walter,” the receptionist respectfully and reassuringly said. “We welcome you to your stay here at Saint Lyn Graveyard.”
The earlier smirk I had going on turned into a genuinely amused smile. Now the costumes made sense. They really were blending the Halloween tradition with business here. I should’ve expected an establishment for tourism would’ve showcased the unique local custom. I was astonished and a little disappointed at the hotel for not having set up props and decorated the whole place, but with cobwebs or bats and such, I supposed other guests would’ve seen that as tacky.
“Please, do rest in peace,” the receptionist asked of us.
That request caused me to become self-conscious of how tired I still felt. I stretched out a little before Dad gave my held hand a tug.
“Come on, Sleepyhead,” he commanded and I smiled back up at him. His own perpetual smile tonight was starting to become contagious. “Just keep with me a little longer and we can call it a night.”
As we departed from the front desk, I saw a funny new obstacle: stairs. I began to ask, “Can’t we use the eleva-- Oh…” I searched for a second and concluded we were missing that kind of service here. “Never mind.”
So we ended up ascending the stairs to our floor. Unlike the huge lobby we left behind us, I felt the narrowing space we entered had caused the illumination to be a tad bit too bright for my liking. It could’ve been because of how tired I had been, but still…
On the last step, I decided I had tolerated the light long enough. I shut my eyes and began to zombie-walk down the lane of the hallway. Not like I was gonna wander into any walls or trip over some electrical cord stretched door-to-door. If there were pitfalls ahead, I was too tired to care. I just placed the inherent natural trust I had in Dad knowing where he was going and followed in his footsteps.
“Happy thoughts,” I sleepily murmured. “Think happy thoughts.”
And I dreamed of a soft, cushy bed to fall into. Best part about that little dream, it would soon come true. No lugging baggage up those steps, getting lost on the way to the room, more of Dad's last minute plans... Or arguments... Or, or whatever. I was tired, and...
Silently, to myself, I whispered, "Happy thoughts." I had been happy to see Dad smile. He finally knew how tired I really was and led me the rest of the way there.
Tonight, that resting place was my final destination.
Just so you are aware, I've omitted tags that would've defined the story for a reason I hope will be understood. I intended this perspective of the story and its end to be open for interpretation.
