Autumn Falls

by A. R. Kingston

  "Say Cyrus..." she stole a second glance at the three-story building sitting behind black iron gates, "what's that ivy-covered building there. The one with the white columns forming five arches?"

  "Oh, that be the old Mercy Hospital. It was built back in eighteen sixty-three and shut down sometime in the seventies in favor of the newer model we have on the island today. But I still say it was something else that brought the old place down."

  "Like what?"

  "Oh, well, there be rumors and all, stories of an old doctor who worked at Mercy and liked to experiment on her patients. A great many people died behind them walls and are now buried on the same grounds. Rumors say that at night you can still hear the pleas from the dead and see apparitions. Then, there are stories of all the accidents that happen on hospital grounds. The locals claim the land to be cursed, and no one dares step foot in that place. But you know, they are just stories, so probably no need to worry or nothing."

  "Right," Charlotte laughed nervously and swallowed the rock forming in her throat, "stories."

  "No need to worry, Miss. Briggs. It's an old island, full of stories, just like any other town in America. It keeps things interesting."

  "Guess you're right, but..."

  "You don't like ghost stories?"

  "Oh, no, I love them. It's just..." Charlotte peered at her wistful reflection and swallowed the pain coming over her in waves, "well, I guess it's just personal."

  "I understand. You can talk about it any time you feel ready, if you want. Plus," Cyrus stopped the Jeep and put it in park, "we have arrived at our destination."

  Stepping out of the car to grab Kevin and their bags, Cyrus left Charlotte to stumble out her door and through the porte-cochere as her eyes rose to take in the place she'd be calling home for a while. The five floors of the grand hotel climbed to meet the pastel blue sky with its sangria-colored roof. Two towers flanked the sides and a small one rose from the center of the roof, tickling the wispy cloud floating by. It reminded her of the hotel she stayed in Disney World on a trip with her mother, and she felt the air catch in her lungs at the thought of not living in some shady motel again until they got settled.

  "All right, miss." Cyrus put a firm, gentle hand on her shoulder and handed her the roller suitcase he had wrestled out from the back. "If you go on inside the woman at the front desk will give you the keys to your room, which has already been paid for the month. Inside you will find an envelope with a card that is your daily food allowance. I think the town gives you a hundred per day. Feel free to check out the restaurants at your leisure, and if you need anything, you can give me a call, I left my number in the pocket of your suitcase. I'll be by tomorrow at seven-thirty to pick you up and drive you, and your colleagues to orientation."

  "Thank you, Cyrus."

  "Of course. It's my pleasure. Now off you go. Go on, get settled, and relax. You have a full day ahead of you tomorrow."

  Giving Charlotte a wink and a wave, the man hopped into the Jeep and drove off, leaving her standing in a cloud of dust. Coughing, she turned and stared at the two massive French doors before her and wondered if that was the entrance she was supposed to use. But as Kevin took hold of her hand and dragged her along, a young man in a red uniform swung a door open for her, inviting her to go inside.

  Chapter Three

  “Celebrate endings—for they precede new beginnings.” – Jonathan Lockwood Huie

  S tepping into the open interior of the hotel, Charlotte felt the blood drain from her head at how opulent the place was. A green paisley rug covered the sprawling snow-white marble floor, with an enormous crystal chandelier hanging at the center, above a lacquered grand piano. The whole entryway was flanked in white, from the pillars and railings, to the dividers and small coffee tables breaking up the winged velvet sofas. Sucking in a lung-full of air, Charlotte grabbed hold of Kevin's hand and headed for the reception desk where a hook-nosed woman in a gray suit was waiting for her.

  "Miss. Briggs, I presume?" The white-haired woman curled her paper-thin lips into a grin and adjusted her thick cat-eye spectacles.

  "That's right."

  "Very good. We have been waiting for you." She reached into a cubby and slid two keys with a brass medallion on them over to Charlotte. "You will be in room one o three. It is down the first hallway on your left, all the way towards the end. I hope you find your stay enjoyable."

  "Thank you very much."

  "Oh, and Miss. Briggs," Charlotte turned back to look at the woman, "I was told to inform you that your son has been successfully enrolled in Horizons Academy. He can start tomorrow morning. It is a short walk from here, so you will have absolutely nothing to worry about. Someone will wait at the school to greet him."

  "Oh, uh, great. Thank you again."

  Charlotte turned back and walked towards the first hallway while pondering the odd exchange. She thought it rather strange that her son was being enrolled in school so suddenly, or that she did not need to be there with him, but as she rounded the corner, her worries faded away. A paisley runner like the rug in the entrance stretched down the glowing tunnel of white doors. It was a tad dated, but a pleasant change from the puke green and neon orange abominations she had grown used to over the past year. There was no buzzing of a dying ice machine, nor a flicker of lights in a dimly lit hall. All there was to greet them was serene silence. Walking down toward the end, she found the door with their number on it and stepped inside their temporary home.

  The interior was as nice as the outside with its clean mocha walls and soft maroon carpeting. The two queen-sized beds were neatly done with cream comforters that were free of cigarette scars and semen stains. A plush ruby sofa sat facing a flat screen TV and to the side, in front of the sliding glass door leading to a patio, was a round oak table with three Oxford chairs tucked into its nook. They were the same color as the sofa, and free of any spots—which, unlike their last place— might be misconstrued as bloodstains. Turning to her right, Charlotte flicked a switch on for the bathroom and leaned her head in to peek inside.

  At first glance, the bathroom appeared even better than the room. White brick lined the bottom of the wall with pale sea-foam paint on top. A double vanity with a marble top waited for her below a large gold framed mirror. Straight ahead, a small door led to a room housing the toilet, and to her right was an antique claw foot tub. This clearly had not been updated recently, but it still smelled clean and had no broken hardware, or signs of mold. Shutting the lights off, she went to put her stuff away and spotted Kevin laying on the bed closest to the patio, looking at her with his face propped on his hand.

  "All right. I know that look, young man. What is it?"

  "Don't get me wrong." He sat up and wrinkled his nose. "I think this place is great and all, but... do we have to live in another hotel?"

  "Not for long," Charlotte smirked and opened her suitcase. "I'll start looking for a house or an apartment as soon as I get paid, and we replenish our bank account." She went over to the dresser with an armful of garments and began putting them away. "And you know, my offer of having you stay with your grandmother in Boston still stands, at least until I get settled."

  "No way, I'd rather be with you. Together till the end, right?"

  "Till the end." She turned and smiled at her son. "Now, want to grab some room service and settle down for the night?"

  "Sure." Kevin opened a navy-blue leather booklet and peeked inside. "I'll have the baked macaroni and cheese. And... as soon as we get a place to live, I want a dog."

  "All right, a big old golden retriever, I promise. Now let me order the food, I'm starving."

  Picking up the phone on the nightstand, Charlotte dialed the number for room service and waited. It had been a long time since she had something other than fast food or some questionable concoction she picked up at a gas station, and she was sure looking forward to having a fresh Caesar salad. On the bed beside her, Kevin flipped through a small booklet he found about the hotel history while h
e waited for her to get done. Having finished her order, she placed the receiver back in the cradle and sat down on her bed to observe the boy who was frowning at his pamphlet.

  "Read something interesting?"

  "Did you know they constructed this hotel in nineteen o nine?"

  "No. But I'm not surprised given its splendor."

  "Well, I bet you also didn't know that it was built on the ruins of the original Eldawood Hotel, which burned down in the great fire of nineteen o three."

  "There was a fire in nineteen o three?"

  "Yes. According to this, it took out the hotel and half a city block. A total of three-hundred people were killed."

  "Oh my. And they build this place on top of it?"

  "Yup. Right on the ashes." Kevin paused and heaved out a sigh. "Seems like this whole island is shrouded in tragedy."

  "Well, yes, but it's as Cyrus said, every old place has its history."

  Smiling, Kevin nodded his head in agreement just as a knock came on their door with someone on the other side announcing it was their dinner. Grabbing the silver tray from the man in a red uniform, Charlotte gave him a tip and sat down to enjoy her salad. Once they had finished their food, she set the tray to the side and drew closed the burgundy curtains overhanging the glass door. Settling down for the night in preparation for the long day ahead she lay her head on the memory foam pillow and went to sleep.

  Chapter Four

  “Nothing else wounds so deeply and irreparably. Nothing else robs us of hope so much as being unloved by one we love.” –Clive Barker

  C harlotte woke up with sweat beading on her brow and her red shirt clinging to the moisture of her skin. The room felt like she had stepped into a sauna. Tossing off the tangled, sweat-soaked bed covers, she rolled out of bed, muttering at how Kevin must have turned up the heat again. Pressing her feet to the soft fibers of the rug, she rubbed her eyes as they adjusted to the darkness. Standing up, she shuffled over to the thermostat, which was one of the new digital ones, and tapped on the down button. A soft green light glowed on the display, and she frowned at what she read. According to the indicator screen, the temperature was left at sixty-eight degrees she had set it to, but the room itself was a sweltering one-hunded and ten, and climbing.

  "Impossible." She muttered to herself.

  Shaking her head, she walked over to the sliding glass door, hoping to nudge it open a crack and let the crisp night air into the room. Pushing one of the red and gold curtains to the side, she froze, and the air caught in her lungs. She wanted to turn and run, but she couldn't move. Something held her in place as her lungs continued to sting without fresh breath. Outside—despite it being a moonless night—the courtyard overlooking the ocean appeared to be surreally bright. Squinting, Charlotte rubbed her eyes and stared out at the swirling clouds of fog beyond the glass. She tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for what she saw, but no matter how much she tried to rationalize it, the area outside was not as she remembered.

  Releasing the stale air from her lungs, she took in a deep breath and continued to observe the spectacle on the other side. The world beyond had lost its luster, appearing to be almost as gray as an old-time movie. A dusty cobblestone street flanked by iron lanterns replaced the garden path of intricately placed slabs of concrete and lush green lawns she remembered. Inside their houses, behind crazed glass, flames of candles flickered and danced about the walkway. Stone houses puffing clouds of smoke upwards to the blackened sky had replaced the maze of shrubbery and rhododendrons from earlier in the day. Watching a horse-drawn carriage roll by a short distance away, Charlotte thought she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye, lingering on her porch. Leaning forward, she attempted to steal a glance at the figure beyond the door when an all too familiar voice called her name from the hallway, causing her blood to run cold in her veins.

  "No..." she whispered, "it can't be."

  Frowning, Charlotte grabbed her pink robe off the nearby chair and slipped it on. Inching closer to the door, she pressed her ear to the polished wood, and listened closely while holding her breath. Once again, she heard the voice from her past calling her name, and she swallowed the rock forming in her throat. It was impossible. There was no way he'd be there, she knew that, but she could not help it. Before she knew it, she was removing the chain from the door and pulling it open a crack. A blast of hot air singed her cheeks, and she strained her eyes to see past a plume of smoke filtering into the room. The hall on the other side was almost a perfect back—the seashell scones on the wall appeared to have vanished—the only source of light was a faint carmine glow coming from the end of the tunnel to her left.

  Fearing there might be a fire, she grabbed a key from the pocket in the door and slipped it into her robe. Stepping through the crack, she coughed as smoke enveloped her on all sides, and she shut the door tightly behind her to keep it out of the room. Turning towards the direction of the glow, she got paralyzed in her spot by the man standing before her. Flooded by long-forgotten memories, she felt the tears pricking the corners of her eyes as he took a step closer to her. He was older now, but still as handsome as he was back then with his messy black hair and only a small bit of stubble on his square jaw. She would have recognized him anywhere, even if she hadn't seen his picture on the back of one of his books. It was Zack, her Zack, and the sight of him made her knees wobble.

  Zack Campbell was her high school sweetheart, and in her mind, the one that got away. She could recall every detail of their first meeting as if it happened yesterday. It was her Freshmen year at the Silver Oak High School. She was a shy, awkward nerd with glasses who preferred the company of books over people. Zack was a Junior and the captain of their school's football team. She first laid eyes on him one crisp October morning during study hall at the library. He came in wearing his red and white varsity jacket, tossing his ball in the air. Charlotte was the only one there, and he approached her, asking if she would help him find a book which she gladly did. As he thanked her and left, she thought that would be the end of their encounter, but he came in the next day asking her for help with his homework.

  That was how all of this started, with a few tutoring sessions which quickly blossomed into romance over the course of a few weeks. By Halloween, the two of them had officially become a couple, and Charlotte became the envy of the entire school. Not that she blamed everyone for being jealous, even she did not understand what he saw in her over a peppy cheerleader with the perfect legs. But Zack, who was her first boyfriend, had quickly become her everything. For him, she took down her walls, let him into her private world, and gave herself to him in ways she could never imagine. Looking at him now, every cell of her body suddenly recalled the memory of their first time together. Her skin crawled with the sensation of his touch, and her lips remembered his fiery breath as they consummated their feeling for one another.

  Back then, she thought there was a future for the two of them, planned out a life they would have together. Little did she know her world would come crashing down around her when he dumped her a week after his graduation. He was going off to UCLA in the fall on a football scholarship, and he didn't think it was fair to have her in a long-distance relationship, especially since she had always talked about becoming a surgeon. With an aching heart, Charlotte recalled how he told her they were on a different path now, but if it was meant to be, the road would bring them back together. That was the end of it, at least for him—but for her it was only the beginning—she learned she was pregnant with Kevin a few days later.

  Glancing up at his steel-gray eyes, Charlotte recalled the stew of emotions that flooded her as the two red lines appeared on that darn stick. She remembered bawling her eyes out as she told her mother—a single parent herself since her father died while she was still a baby—and how her mother was willing to support her no matter what she decided to do. At first, she considered putting the baby up for adoption. After all, everyone around her had convinced her that Zack should not know he
was a father. But as she held her son at the hospital and stole a glance at his face, she knew she could never be apart from him. He looked too much like his dad.

  For years, she thought the only memory left of Zack was the one found in their son. She let him go that day, convincing herself their path would never cross. And yet, here he was, standing before her with pleading eyes, or at least some version of him, one which was not entirely human. The Zack before her, while retaining the image of the man she once loved, was nothing like him. Her knees buckled beneath her, and she fell against the wall, clutching her chest as his once gray eyes turned to a glowing shade of deep ruby red. Clouds of shadowy smoke poured out from his body and he reached out a hand to her, tilting his head.

  "Cherry, is that you?"

  "Yes..." Charlotte chocked down her sadness as the hot tears streamed down her face, "it's me."

  "Please," Zack's voice was distorted and distant, "help me?"

  "What's wrong, Zack? What do you want me to do?"

  "Save me... please...."

  "How?" Charlotte pushed herself off the wall to get closer to him. "Tell me what you want me to do."

  "Save me, Cherry. Please, help me. You are the only one who can."

  He said nothing more, he just continued to stand with his hand stretched out towards her, and she felt herself getting pulled closer to him until she was melting into his body. She missed him so much, she wanted to hold him again and comfort him in his hour of need. Embracing him in her arms, his body stiffen at her touch and the muscles ripple beneath his cotton shirt. She buried her face in his chest sobbing and noticed he had a strange smell of sulfur to him. He reached around to hold her, but as he wrapped his arms around her back, a blood-curdling squeal rang through the hallway.