The Twilight Fall || Short Story

The Twilight Fall

The ruins lay up on the hill. Dark, decrepit. Barely visible in the night, the moon slightly illuminating the dark piles of rubble. Mist rises about the valley as the ruins lie silent on the hill. Not even a shadow of its former glory lingers about the destruction. You'd only heard tales of what it used to be, but the sight before you is farther from its past than you could've imagined. It is quiet. It is still. All of the life it used to host is long gone now. 

You wonder how it became this way. No one in the village will say. Such a grand building it once was, they tell you. What kind of horror must have happened to bring it to such a sorry state? 

You approach the hill. 

It's cold. Drops of mist tickle your skin, the cool wind air causing you to shiver as you ascend. It's eerie. The thickness of the silence surrounding you, the chill of the night. Is it because of what happened here? 

You can almost hear a haunting, mourning melody echo through the valley as you begin to climb. Overgrown weeds tug at your legs as you pass. Seems no one's been here in years. You're not surprised. No one will even speak of what happened. You reach what would have been the front gate. 

A small monument sits right in front of the wreckage. The plaque is weathered and almost unreadable. You squint at the writing, trying to make sense of its inscription. 

For... lives... lost... tragedy... 

Too many of the words are hidden. You reach out to brush it off. As your hand makes contact, a cacophony of sounds echoes in your ears, your head spinning. The mist clings to you, tight, almost suffocating. 

Your head hurts - as if it's splitting. 

What's happening? 

But then you look up. And you see the hotel, standing in all of its glory. It's beckoning you to come inside. It wants you to learn its secrets. Laughter and music can be heard inside, the dull ache in your head slowly subsiding. 

You step inside. 

The lobby is quiet, but you can hear music in the next room over. They probably have a ballroom, ready for guests. You find the wooden doors leading to your destination and push them open. 

The ballroom is filled with dancing, women in long dresses swinging with their partners, dressed to the nines. Skirts swirling as feet glide across the smooth maple flooring, music filling the open space. 

The lights are soft, yellow and warm. The chill from the outside air is gone, as countless bodies moving around the dance floor fill the room with warmth. You spot guests chatting, swaying to the music, laughing with companions as the dance continues. 

The music echoes in your ears, warm, full, and bright as the dance swells. Then, the music slowly fades as the guests disappear. 

You stand in confusion for a moment as you hear the smooth sound of saxophones ring out. You follow the music as it changes to the deliberate sound of a piano. You make your way from the ballroom to a hallway, where two doors open into an expansive dining room. 

Long maple-wood tables line the banquet hall, with plush velvet chairs carefully placed along each side. A live band sits to one side of the room, echoing phrases as it fades slowly, before bursting into a swell of smooth jazz. Guests use ornately decorated silverware to pick at their meals, leaning across the table with flushed cheeks to share the latest rumors. 

Waiters dressed in stiff suits bring out platters laden with gourmet dishes, the plates with their garnish almost as dressed up as the guests. Laughter rings through the hall, almost as loud as the music. Plates are delivered, the guests digging in to the newest delicacies provided by the hotel's grand kitchen.