Lyrical Darkness: 11 dark fiction stories inspired by the music that rocks your soul

by Terri Reid

  When I turned away from the departing Blake, I came face-to-face with Maria who had come up behind me. I wondered if Blake walked away because of her.

  “Adam,” she said slyly. “Do you have your word now?”

  “Yes,” I replied, wondering just what kind of game this was. I knew I’d had a few too many drinks, but I didn’t feel drunk. And yet, I did feel rather strange, like I was watching a movie—starring me—filmed from the first-person perspective. I didn’t feel in control of myself, and old Good Sense really started to howl.

  “Very good,” Maria replied. “It’s a good word, sí?”

  “It’s a very good word. The best one I could think of.”

  “I see. Then there is one final step that I will ask of you, and your life will be forever changed.”

  “For the better, I hope,” I said without thinking.

  “Sí,” she answered, and kissed me again on the lips. “The captain will prepare a special wine for you. Please find him and tell him your word, and he will bring the wine for you when the time is right. After you find him and tell him your word, please come to the gazebo and I will take you to a very special place.”

  I stood as if I were in a trance as she traced the long nail of her index finger down the side of my jaw, then down my neck. When she walked away, I set out to find the captain and tell him my word. Strange as it seemed, Bad Sense was rather excited to see where this was all going.

  I found the captain standing at attention near the bar. He watched me as I approached, but never greeted me when I stopped in front of him.

  “Captain,” I said. “Please bring me my wine.”

  “What’s your word, son?”

  “Blissful,” I answered. I could think of no way that I would rather be than blissful.

  The captain stared straight ahead, but he said, “We haven’t had that spirit here since nineteen sixty nine. Do you have another word?”

  That caught me off guard. I didn’t plan for a backup word. I tried to think of another word that meant the same thing as blissful, but none of them had the same strength. Happy was not the same as blissful, nor was joyful. Blissful was like a word-island, and no other word fit the idea I had in my mind. I ran a few more words through, like euphoric and ecstatic, but they also did not match the feeling that I got for blissful. Then, another idea came to me, inspired by the innocent boy I had uncovered earlier in the day.

  “Confident,” I said.

  The captain nodded, but did not turn or look at me, much less congratulate me on my word.

  “I’ll prepare your wine, son, and bring it to the feast.” He turned and walked away.

  Feast? I thought. I’d had dinner only a couple of hours before, and didn’t want to have a feast. My curiosity grew to an all-time high. Maria had promised my life would change, and I wondered what that had to do with this special wine, and the word. Confident, I had said. I could never have guessed how important that word would turn out to be.

  I found Maria in the gazebo. She took me by the hand and led me into the hotel. We navigated several long corridors, and somewhere in the heart of the hotel, Maria stopped in front of a large pair of old, heavy, wooden doors. She inserted a key, and pushed the doors open.

  Inside was one of the most lavish suites I had ever seen. Off to the left, a large pedestal bed that looked like a giant wineglass dominated the area. Instead of glass, the bed consisted of white mortar or cement. Satin sheets and pillows covered the inside of the bed, and mirrors covered the ceiling over it. In the other direction, I saw a sitting room with ornate furniture. A small kitchen area was in the far corner, and a hallway led off to parts unseen in another corner.

  Maria led me to the strange bed. Next to it on a small table sat an ice bucket holding a bottle. Maria took the bottle and asked me to open it.

  As I did, she pulled two goblets from under the table and asked me to pour. I filled the goblets with a pink liquid.

  “Champagne, to celebrate,” Maria said, lifting her glass to meet mine.

  “What are we celebrating?”

  “The beginning of the rest of your life,” she answered with a giggle that made her even more irresistible.

  I sipped the sweetest champagne I had ever tasted, and I had never been fond of the stuff before that night. Everything at the Hotel California seemed to be sweeter than out in the real world. I caught that thought as it crossed my mind, and figured that I no longer thought of this place as real.

  “It’s good,” I said.

  After a few sips in silence, Maria put her glass down and slipped onto the satin sheets. She patted the space next to her, and her eyes told me to join her.

  I turned my back to the bed, let myself slip over the hard edge and onto the softness beyond. She moved next to me and cradled my head in her arms. At that moment, I couldn’t think of a place I’d rather have been. Her arms felt cool to the sides of my face, but in a way that touched me like a fresh, night breeze. I could hear her deep, even breathing as she stroked my cheek.

  “The captain told me your word,” Maria said. “I must say, it is not a word that most men choose.”

  “It wasn’t my first choice, but it seemed to fit in with what I’ve been thinking about lately.”

  Maria continued to stroke my face, and then adjusted herself on the bed so that she placed a couple of fingers from each hand at my temples and began to massage them. I felt a mild electric current passing through my head, and after a moment, I just melted into the bed and let Maria overwhelm me.

  “We have captured the spirit of many great men,” she said. “Most of my pretty boys will choose words like powerful, courageous, or brave to enhance the warrior within them. Many will waste their gift and choose famous or wealthy, not realizing that those are just side effects of other great qualities. A few choose spirits simply for themselves, like artistic and intelligent.”

  I got lost in her words, but Good Sense whispered in my ear. Captured the spirit? It tried to raise an alarm.

  Bad Sense made a better comment, simply whispering enjoy the moment.

  “But you, señor Adam, you chose confident. “

  She continued to massage my temples, and by then my body felt like a mass of jell-o, becoming one with the softness of the bed and absorbed in her words.

  “It’s an interesting choice,” she then said. “And time will tell if that word works out for you.”

  My eyes were closed while she spoke those last words, but I sensed Maria bending down, and I soon felt her lips pressed against mine. I realized I could not move. Paralysis had come over me, and I panicked. Adrenaline pumped furiously through my veins, but try as I might, I could not even twitch a muscle. Good Sense screamed out, you’ve been hyp-no-tized!

  I could hear every breath Maria took in, and I swear I could hear the blink of her eyes. My own pulse pounded a rapid cadence in my now hyper-sensitive ears, and yet I could also hear the ticking of some faraway clock.

  “Señor Adam,” Maria said. “Do not be afraid. Relax and simply listen to me now.”

  It didn’t appear that I had any choice, so I willed myself to relax and could hear my pulse slow.

  “We shall have a ceremony soon,” Maria said. “We call this ceremony The Feast. My sisters and I will be there, as will a few of my friends, like you,” she added. “You will receive your wine, and you will drink. When you have finished, you will have ingested the spirit of another, making you very special and very fortunate, indeed.” She paused for a moment while she rubbed my temples. “It will also make you very delicious.” She tapped my lips with her fingers.

  Even with my eyes closed, I could see her evil little smirk in my mind.

  With my head spinning, I began to ponder her words. Bad Sense grew uncommonly quiet, but Good Sense bellowed loud and clear, she’s got you now, you fool! You are now her slave! I told you this wasn’t right!

  “After you drink your wine, you will be initiated,” she said. “You will become part of our family here at
the Hotel California, and you will come back to visit many times. Each time, you will bring me a gift, sí? And each time, I will give you a gift as well.”

  I could feel her moving, and again she placed a passionate kiss upon my paralyzed lips. Even with the fear I now felt, I ached to respond and kiss her back.

  “One final thing,” Maria said in a business-like voice. “You will never speak of this place to another, ever. If you try, you will not be able to. So please save yourself the pain, and do not even try.”

  I then felt one of her fingers making a small circle on my forehead.

  “Señor Adam,” she called in a sing-song voice. “It is time that we go to the ceremony.”

  I found myself staring into my own eyes reflected from the mirrored ceiling above me. The look on my boyish face, dead and dull, lacked any emotion. Muscles began to twitch in my hands, and soon I could raise my arms. Maria slid from the bed and reached for my hand.

  “Come,” she said. “It is time for The Feast.”

  I tested my voice. “Maria?”

  Her delicate eyebrow rose.

  “Am I a prisoner here?”

  She shot her eyes downward. “We are all just prisoners here,” she said. “Of our own device.”

  I finally gained control of my legs, and followed Maria like a good little slave. Though aware of my surroundings, I was powerless to control my own behavior. As Maria and I walked down dark corridors, it was like watching a movie in my head. I knew she had some sort of power over me, and even though I struggled against it, I was like the fly in the spider’s web—struggling in futility.

  We went down at least two flights of stairs, and through dark and narrow corridors. Maria paused in front of another pair of old, wooden doors.

  “Welcome to my private chambers,” she said. “You will come here again many times, but the first time is the most special.” I got that sexy sidelong glance and naughty smile from her before she pushed open the doors.

  Before I entered the room lit only by candles, various aromas hit me at the doorway. Smoke, in a variety of flavors, and incense were the most obvious. I saw a long, narrow table covered in red linen and set with silver goblets. A dozen chairs lined one side of this table, filled with young, clean-shaven men. Five chairs were centered on the other side, and four lovely ladies in gowns sat there, all of whom I recognized from the courtyard gatherings. The only two empty chairs sat on either side.

  The people seated looked up as Maria led me into the room. They spoke in hushed tones and many whispered directly into the ears of the ones seated next to them. I was seated at the chair centered on the side with all men, and Maria made her way around the far end of the table to her seat on the other side. Maria stood behind her empty chair, which to me looked more like a throne. She took her silver goblet into both hands, then raised it, turning first to her right, then to her left.

  “Welcome to The Feast,” she said. Everyone raised their goblets, so I did the same. She touched the rim of her goblet to the rim of the goblet of the lady next to her, and the gentle ring of silver on silver spread round the table.

  Nobody smiled during this toast, but held an emotionless demeanor. On my left sat Blake, the man I had met earlier on the patio, and to my right sat his friend who I had yet to meet. A bead of sweat ran down the side of Blake’s face, and his friend stared down at his goblet.

  I looked at my goblet, half full with a dark, viscous liquid. Good Sense shouted into my ear. Blood! You know that’s blood!

  Maria took her seat and then bowed her head as if in prayer.

  Blake held both hands under the table, working at something. He looked nervous, and moved like a tightly wound spring.

  I saw Maria staring at me. The eyes of a demon tore through to my soul, bright red, and glistening in the candlelight. I looked to the ladies on either side of Maria, whose eyes had also changed. Fear gripped my heart, causing it to pause. I felt my head swim in a sudden dizziness. My mind wanted to scream, but paralysis caught hold of me again, and I could not move.

  A flash of motion caught my attention when Blake got up from his seat and lunged across the table at Maria. I saw a flash of steel, and then saw Maria fall back into her seat, with the hilt of a knife protruding from her upper chest. Her head shot back and she howled in pain. The man on my right followed Blake’s lead and also lunged with a knife. This one caught Maria near the base of the throat. The man climbed on the table and pushed the knife even harder, knocking over my goblet in the process.

  I maintained enough awareness to see the other women jump from their chairs, hissing like angry cats while bearing enormous fangs. Their fingernails became sharp talons, and their eyes burned with fury. One grabbed Blake’s friend, burying a set of claws into his throat and pulling a handful of flesh away. The man buckled onto the table, his throat a bubbling mass of blood and torn flesh.

  Blake fell back, knocking over his chair. Two of the demon ladies leapt upon him in seconds, but I did not see what happened to him. My eyes went back to Maria, who I thought was surely dead. She sat in her chair with a scowl on her face and pulled the knife from her neck. Surprisingly, very little blood came from the wound. Maria reached for the other knife, and slowly pulled it from her chest.

  Chaos erupted all around me. I heard Blake scream before I realized I’d regained most of my senses. I was no longer in that fog Maria created around me. Both Good Sense and Bad urged me in the same direction. I looked at the silver goblet before me, tilted on its side, the dark red contents soaking into the tablecloth. The goblet reflected my own face in a distorted fashion, but I recognized the kid and prayed his confidence could get us out of this mess. I realized I didn’t need any special wine to find that confidence; I’d had it all along, buried somewhere within me. Now was the time to dig it out and put it to good use.

  I rolled to the side as one of the demons leapt past me, grabbed a man by the collar and pushed him to the floor. On hands and knees under the table, I saw one of the knives that Maria had removed from her body, so I grabbed it and shuffled to the back of the room. The women were like sharks in a feeding frenzy, their faces smeared with blood. The hideous sounds they emitted did not sound human.

  I turned to get my bearings when something hit me from behind, knocking me harshly into the wall. I dropped to my knees, losing the knife. When I turned, I saw a man’s bloody body had been tossed my way, and that was what had knocked me down.

  Someone had opened the doors to the chamber, and I clambered over bodies, both moving and still, until I reached them. Still weak, my nervousness caused my legs to rebel. People moved all about the room, but nobody tried to stop me as I headed for the exit.

  I turned in the dark corridors and ran, seeking any stairway that led upward. I could not tell how long it took me to find my way back to the main level, but soon the relative brightness of the lobby greeted me, which was thankfully empty at this time of night. Empty, except for Hernando.

  I saw him at the same time he saw me, and he came out from behind the counter with a strange, wild grin on his face. Grabbing me by the lapels, he slammed me up against the wall. He looked into my horrified face and put his close enough to mine that I could smell the mint he had recently eaten.

  “Relax, señor,” he said with a grim smile. “We are programmed to receive.”

  I grabbed his arms and tried to break his grip, but he held me firm.

  “You can check out any time you like,” he said, “but you can never leave!”

  I twisted and fought, but Hernando proved far more powerful than I thought. Or, perhaps I was just that weak after what I had seen. Hernando still held me against the wall when he next spoke.

  “The Hotel California is in you now. Even if you leave this place, the place will never leave you. You will be back!”

  I brought my hands up as he stared into my eyes, then brought them down on his wrists with all the energy I had. I heard my jacket tear and I twisted free of his grip and ran for the exit.


  Hernando laughed madly as I ran out into the cool night. He must have run to the door behind me, because I heard him clearly when he shouted, “You belong to us now, señor!”

  When I found the keys to the ’Vette, he stood outside, waving. A woman appeared and stood beside Hernando. Although I could not see well, I knew it was Maria, and I swear that she blew me a kiss as I scrambled to leave.

  Seconds later, with my hands shaking, I had the V-8 growling and the tires screaming as I left the parking lot and shot out onto the highway. I had no idea which direction I headed, but I pushed the Corvette for all it was worth and the desert landscape flew past me in a blur.

  My mind churned images like a kaleidoscope until I saw the pinkness of the sunrise in my rearview mirror. I saw a sign proclaiming that Los Angeles lay another forty miles ahead of me, and I began to think more rationally once again. I entered the city limits as the sun crested the horizon behind me. I had never been more grateful to see the sunlight and watch the shadows disappear.

  *

  The story I just told you happened more than thirty years ago. I have never told anyone about it before, but not because I haven’t tried. If I try to talk about my experience at The Hotel California, I get a sudden, crushing headache in the center of my forehead. The pain gets so bad that I can no longer talk. So the story has gone untold until now, when I realized that I could write about it without the tremendous pain.

  I managed to fulfill my contract with the record company, and The Fast Lane made one more hit record before I called it quits and went back to Oklahoma.

  During that time, I wrote letters to Brenda Jane, and told her what I had been going through and what a fool I had been. I told her how I longed for a normal life again, and just one more Saturday night at the Burger Barn, listening to the jukebox—with her. After the third such letter, Brenda Jane began writing back.

  We eventually patched things up and tied the knot twenty-seven years ago. We have three grown kids and the first grandbaby on the way.