A Collection of Short Works

Grand Old Hotel

Written for an English class in my last year of high school. Slightly revised.
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The entrance to the old hotel was grand... at one point in time. A Roman statue stood headless and crumbling in the dried fountain, placed in the middle of the cobblestone road winding around to the doors. Inside, it would have been even more impressive in its heyday, its giant metal chandelier still dangling from cables set there decades ago. The tiny glimmers of candles lit most of the decrepit building, a hole in the roof letting the pale moonlight handle the last shadowy bits. Those candles always catch travelers off guard, leaving them asking questions like "Who lit them?" and "How long have they been there?" The wooden floors, slowly succumbing to rot, echo every scamper of the tiny creatures that now inhabit the rooms. With a rustling of trees outside, a breeze blows in, confidently snuffing the candles. Darkness, like the wind, swept through the building, the sound of a door slamming resounding from the top level. The dual staircases loomed overhead. Cicada chirps ring outside. The night is calm again. One lamplight flickered into being on the top of the staircase. Then, one by one, the candles went aflame, running down the staircases, and with a sudden luminous flash, ending at the great chandelier.