Death To Thora - COMPLETE SHORT STORY

One

The trees speak softly through my car windows, sending whispers that creep up my sleeves and nestle into my spine.

I tend to enjoy mountain drives, but this one is different. Morbid. Foreign. Perhaps it's the loneliness that glues my eyes to the asphalt. Maybe it's the isolating thought that if I somehow derailed, no one would be there to rescue me. Maybe, it's the impulsive desire that comes over me every couple of minutes, to hit the gas and let go, that scares me most. It's not my own company that haunts me, it's the ghosts that surround it, corrupting my mind.

I know I've reached the town's border by the look of the decaying sign. With its last breath, it sings Aderith.

The town itself causes me to question if I've accidentally driven here in a time machine instead of a Toyota Corolla. It is made up of old stone buildings, every carved edge of the architecture a tribute to the gothic era of history. That feeling of dread is replaced by one of wonder. How is this place even real? The asphalt fades into cobblestone, just as the music on the radio disappears into static.

I instinctively dial Mom's number, placing a call that drops before it even rings. My stomach churns.

-🏶-

The complex stands taller than most of the buildings and is easy to spot. I pull up beside it.

My hands are already wet by the time I get my suitcase out. I notice a fog that rests on the mountain, not quite at the town yet, but curling closer by the minute. The thin air is ice in my lungs, and I hurry to the feeble doors, pushing through them and cringing at the whine they make in protest.

The reception area is eerily still. A lone tattooed woman occupies the front counter, her hair twirled around a pen in a loose bun that's barely holding on for dear life. Even though she appears busy, the room is dusty and bears more resemblance to a history exhibit than it does an apartment complex. Her eyes light up at the sight of me.

"Hello, how may I help you?"

My gaze traces across the barren walls, lined with cobwebs. "I was wondering if you had any vacancies."

"Yes, I do." Her color is orange, I can already tell. It's an orange that is pale and noninvasive, but vibrant enough to exceed the limits of peach. Everyone gets a color. That's hers.

"I need a one bedroom, one bathroom. Do you have one available?"

She doesn't check her papers. "Yes. We only lease month-to-month here, the rent is eight hundred dollars."

Eight hundred dollars? Most mountain towns in Colorado cost an arm and a leg for the view alone. "Do you take card?"

"Yes."

"Is internet and utilities included?"

She chuckles, though I'm not sure why. "Yes. The wifi works off of a satellite, so with the weather it can be hit or miss. The cafe up the street seems to get the best connection in town. If you really need to make a phone call, there is a point outside of the outskirts of town that gets reception, you just go back up the way you came in and it's at the top of that hill."

I hand her my card and she takes a stoic ten minutes to process the payment. Just when I start to worry that I don't have enough cash on me to cover the rent if this doesn't work, the machine chimes and she passes the card back to me, along with a contract. I sign my name and grab my suitcase.

"I'll have it ready in an hour or so. You are more than welcome to wait in the lobby or come back later."

I nod. "No worries. You said there's a cafe just up the street? Maybe I'll head there for a bit."