Tales from the Overlook

Wandering The Halls

Halloween's over, fellas, you can pack the decorations up now.

If things weren't so terribly bizarre, and bizarrely terrible, Wendy could have almost laughed at herself for that, for it seemed that a part of her had come to terms with the absolute absurdity of it all. She had to, really, otherwise she was quite sure she'd lose her mind, and at least one of them should keep their mind, she reckoned to no uncertain terms.

She could swear she saw one of the skeletons move out of the corner of her eye. It would be impossible, of course, because not only was it a skeleton and therefore lacking any muscles to be moving anything at all, and that it was, well, dead long enough for a good dusting of dirt and a sheet of spiderwebs to clothe the bear bones, she simply couldn't be looking at a skeleton because there was nothing at all there. Skeletons or otherwise.

Still, a shudder raced an icy path up and down her back, a chill that no amount of layers could chase away as it did not come from any sort of cold but rather from a complete and utter terror. Swallowing nervously, she hurried out of the lobby. Even if there really wasn't anything there, she couldn't stand being out in such a big empty place full of echoes.

The echoes were a killer.

Trying to listen out for even the slightest sounds, Wendy was sure she was going to manage to give herself one hell of a headache before the night was over. The fact it was a necessary precaution at all was, in her opinion, utter lunacy, but the alternative was to risk meeting the business end of the weapon that the madman that had once been her husband wielded. It was all too quiet for her liking, really. She couldn't hear where he was, and that was torturous enough on its own right. The man - not man! Not anymore! The thing! The thing pretending to be the man! - could be lurking around any corner, that damned roque mallet ready to do its deadly duty, or perhaps he - it - was hiding crouched behind any piece of furniture she neared, just out of sight. She almost wanted him to make a move, if not just to free her from the horrible uncertainty that came with not knowing if how many steps she could safely make.

It didn't feel right, sneaking about the big old hotel like a criminal. But sneak and creep she must do.

Crack.

Where did it come from? Was it the closest hall to where she stood? Was he about to pounce on her and finally do away with the silly woman who foolishly let herself love him?

Thump.

Oh god, she couldn't tell she couldn't tell where the hell we was. He was far too close, but that knowledge did nothing to help her. In fact, knowing he was nearby but still hidden away from sight managed to frazzle her frizzled nerves further. Every step forward that she made was like turning the crank on a Jack-In-A-Box, just waiting for the Jack to pop out.

Thwump.

Her step faltered. Oh no. It was so close but so far but so close! If only she could see him and put an end to this horrible game of hide and seek they were playing.

Thwack.

Oh god, where was he? Oh god, where was he? Oh god, where was he? Oh god, where was he? Oh god, wherewas he? Ohgod, where washe? Wherewherewherewherewhere?  Ohgodwherewashe?Ohgodwherewashe?Ohgodwherewashe?Ohgodwherewashe?Ohgodwherewasit?Ohgodwherewasit? OH GOD WHERE WAS IT?

"Wendy?"

She was wanting to see him, wasn't she? Then why was it that her breath caught in her chest and her blood turned to ice. With a gasp, she whirled around, the hand that was not clutching a knife with a white knuckled grip flying to her chest as if trying to steady her breath.

By god, he looked horrible. His skin was sickly pale, hair unbrushed and stubble coming in, a soulless emptiness in his eyes robbing him of whatever made him himself, liquid - oh god! It's blood! He found Danny first and now he's dead! - drying against his red flannel. Oh! And the smell! Even from where he stood down the end of the hallway she could smell the sweat and the alcohol radiating off him in a foul aura that almost left her gagging. Once it would have, but for better or for worse she'd gotten used to the smell. For worse, definitely.

"Oh, Jack, I was looking for you." she exclaimed, cursing herself for the tremble in her voice. Silly silly woman, she chastised herself, she should have stayed up in their room where she'd have been at least a little safer behind a locked door or two. But no, she had to risk it and now she's staring down the metaphoric barrel of a shotgun.

"Well," said he, perfectly civil, stalking forward with a nonchalance that came from a surety that a predator has when its prey was cornered and there was all the time in the world, "You found me."

Her lip trembled, but she was managing to win the battle against the tears that were threatening to overflow at a moment's notice.

"Yes, I," her voice cracked pathetically, taking uncertain steps back and away from the beast before her.

"You found me," it repeated in a horribly accurate imitation of her husband's voice, "And what are you going to do now that you've found me? Nothing? Just like everything else you've ever done?"

"Jack," she mumbled out, his words hitting home with much the same force she was sure the mallet he was swinging about so casually in his hand would if it hit its mark, "You don't have to do this..."

"If it hasn't gotten into your thick head, my love," he began, tapping his temple far too hard, the pet name coming across more like he was spitting out a curse than something spoken with love, "I have my responsibilities to my employer, and like hell am I going to let you fuck that up like you've tried to do with every single damn thing I've tried to do before!"

This opened the floodgates. Hot tears ran a river down her cheeks all of a sudden, but she was too stunned to even think to wipe them away.