Highest Ranking #13 ( in Paranormal )
WINNER of
The Raven Awards
The Mystical Awards
The Blooming Awards
The Wattpad Oscar Awards
Something lurks in the basement of the Thompson House; something dark, something sinister, something diabolical.
...
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"Mr Benedict, Mr Benedict..."
The knocks on my door were relentless. Soaring above a serene ocean was I, tearing through the cold clouds, gazing at the beautiful stars and the green shimmers of the magnificent aurora, when the steady ceaseless thumps of the door spiked and I could no longer live in the wonders of my dream.
"Mr Benedict..." The calls continued. On waking up, an intense ray of sun hit my eyes. The grumbles of my stomach confirmed the thought that no morsel of meal was destined to me yesterday. The warm comfort of the divine bed after such a cold journey was all my heart needed then. It was so heavenly that a man had forgotten his hunger once his eyes had drooped.
I wrapped a clean white towel around my waist and opened the door. The calls at once ceased and I saw a fat petite lady standing timidly at the door. She was dressed in clothes that suggested of waitressing being her profession- a grey gown beneath a long white apron. A cap as large as her stomach adorned her curly black hair.
"Yes?" I asked. No word left her cherry lips. She in stead kept gaping at my body. A slight amusement lingered on her chubby face. It was then I realized I had been addressing a complete stranger with no piece of clothing on my upper body. Shutting the door right away, I hurried towards my luggage and pulled out a shirt. I was half way done when a face peered through the door. It was not the timid fat lady this time, however.
"Is anything wrong, Jonathan?" The mistress of the inn asked.
"Nothing, Ms Brunner. I was only..." I let my voice falter since my half way done clothing was a sight obvious enough to be made sense of.
"Oh, sorry, pardon me, Jonathan. But do hurry. I'd like you to join us for breakfast. It's a custom of this inn that all must breakfast or dine together." Ms Brunner's head disappeared and the door was shut again.
Wondering what was happening in this strange small inn, I hurried with the dress up and at once presented a gentleman me to the corridor. The empty corridor. Neither the petite beauty nor the old lady were to be seen anywhere standing on the finely polished wood. Sighing, I closed the door and decided to take a shower. To disregard the invitation was, I believed, in my best interests since a forlorn man like me never desired to have company of any one. It would not be a rare scene if I were to grab the hands of a stranger who my mind would see as Meera.
It was the moment I touched the warm water collected in the marble bath tub that the knocks started again.
"Mr Benedict, Mr Benedict..." came the timid voice. Frustrated and flaring with rage, still somehow managing my composure, I again emerged at the corridor. The empty corridor.
A thought of bringing the matter of this strange, plausibly haunted, inn to the notice of Joseph struck me as I rejoined my bath. Or perhaps I would ask him to find me another inn altogether.
Once the warm water slithered along my skin, drenching every bit of it, all the strange happenings of the day before begun to seem so distant I was convinced of them being as fictitious as the dream I was lost into until a few minutes before.
