The Ghosts of Lakeforth Hotel

by Amy Cross

  Stopping suddenly, I realize the girl seems to be whispering something under her breath. I can't make out a word of what she's saying, so I take a step closer. I don't know what's wrong with her, but I'm starting to think she might be totally brain-dead.

  “I can't hear you, dumb-ass,” I tell her. “Are you stupid? If you want me to hear you, you need to talk properly.”

  She doesn't raise her voice at all. Instead, she continues to whisper, and there's something creepy about hearing those hushed words coming from a face that's bathed in darkness. I can just about make out the shape of her silhouette, and I can tell that she has long hair and that she's wearing some kind of long dress, but as I step closer I find that I still can't quite see her face properly.

  “What do you want?” I ask finally. “Are you chanting or something? What -”

  Suddenly I let out a gasp as the girl vanishes right in front of me. It's like she was right there, and then a fraction of a second later she disappeared. I didn't even blink, I swear, but as I look around at the dark jetty I find that I'm completely alone.

  “Hello?” I shout, trying not to let myself sound too scared. “Where are you? How did you do that?”

  I turn and look over my shoulder, and then back toward the shore, but still there's no sign of her.

  And then I hear the scratching sound.

  Turning slowly, I look toward the jetty's dark, farthest end, and I realize that I can hear something scratching down at the water's edge. I immediately think of the jetty's wooden legs, and I feel a tightening sense of fear in my chest as I listen to the scratching sound slowly making its way up from the water, as if something is dragging itself with great effort from the depths and is going to appear at any moment.

  Frozen in place, not daring to move, I watch the jetty's end and wait for some sign of movement. The scratching sound seems different now, more labored and twisted, as if rotten old branches are being dragged against the wooden legs that support the jetty. There's a faint gasping noise, too, and I'm convinced that at any moment I'll see a hand reach up from beneath the jetty and grab the wooden boards, hauling itself out of the lake.

  Instead, the sound finally stops, leaving me standing alone in silence.

  I try to open my mouth, to call out, but my throat is too dry.

  “Hello?” I manage to whisper finally, before realizing that I must have imagined the whole thing.

  I turn and look over my shoulder, just to make sure that I'm alone, and then I look back toward the end of the jetty.

  It can't have been real.

  The girl. The scratching sound. All of it was just in my head. I force a smile, trying to make myself relax, and I tell myself that I should head back to the hotel. Still, instead of turning to leave, I find that I can't stop staring at the end of the jetty, and I realize after a moment that I have to go and take a look. If I simply walk away, I'll know deep down that I'm a coward, and that I wasn't brave when it mattered. Instead, I have to march right over there and look down past the jetty's end, into the water below, and prove to myself that all I heard – at the very most – was a few gusts of wind.

  Still, it takes a moment before I can force my legs to move. Even then, I only take a very cautious step forward, and I'm poised to run in case I see or hear anything in the darkness.

  “She wasn't real,” I whisper. “She looked real, but she wasn't.”

  Those words don't help much, however, and I can feel my heart beating faster and faster as I approach the end of the jetty. With each and every step, I feel an overwhelming urge to turn and run, but somehow I manage to keep going until finally I reach the final set of boards, and I force myself to look down into the dark water.

  There's nothing there.

  I breathe a huge sigh of relief. All I see is water gently rippling in the breeze as it rises and falls around the jetty's old wooden legs.

  I guess I should be feeling pretty stupid right now. After all, I -

  “Help me!” the girl screams suddenly, lunging up from the depths and grabbing my ankle with a rotten hand.

  I pull back, but her grip is too tight and I quickly crash down against the boards. As she squeezes tight, I feel her gummy flesh pressing against me, and then the bones of her fingers seem to cut through her own skin and slice into mine.

  “Help me up!” she gasps, pulling harder and harder. “You have to be -”

  Kicking her in the face, I almost manage to push her off. She lets out a groan and tries to grab my other leg, so I kick her again and this time the heel of my shoe tears a patch of flesh from her cheek, exposing the bony socket of her eye and several thread-like muscles on the side of her jaw. Too horrified to think straight, I kick her again and again, and finally she lets go of my ankle and falls back, splashing down into the water.

  Not daring to stop and make sure she's truly gone, I scramble to my feet and limp back along the jetty, screaming for Mum to come and help me.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Steven -”

  “I know what I saw!” I gasp, trying once again to sit up in bed, only for Mum to place a hand on my chest and gently force me back down.

  “I should never have let you stay up so late,” she mutters. “Steven, you didn't sneak some alcohol from one of the other tables, did you? You're not -”

  “I told you!” I hiss, almost shaking with fear as I see the disbelieving look in her eyes. “I was on the jetty and I saw a little girl! And then she tried to drag herself out of the water and I had to kick her back in!”

  She sighs.

  “It happened!” I shout, pushing her hand away when she tries to pat my shoulder. “Don't call me a liar! I'm not a liar! She was really there! If you go down and take a look, you'll see her in the water!”

  “Steven -”

  “Wait, don't go and look!” I add, lunging at her and grabbing her arm. “Mum, you can't! It's a miracle I managed to get away! She'd probably drag you down into the water and eat your brains!”

  “Drag me down?” She raises a skeptical eyebrow. “A moment ago, you said she was trying to climb up.”

  “I don't know what she wants!” I continue breathlessly. “All I know is that she's real, and that she wanted me to help her! I didn't give her a chance to explain what she needed help with, but it can't be something good!” I hesitate for a moment, before pulling her arm even tighter. “Please don't leave me alone tonight!” I sob. “I'm scared! If you leave me alone, she might come back!”

  “Your father -”

  “Dad can sleep alone! She won't try to hurt him! It's me she wants!”

  She stares at me, not saying anything for a moment and seeming completely lost in thought.

  “You're eleven years old,” she says finally. “Don't you think that's a little old to be making up scary stories and -”

  “I'm not making it up!”

  “Whatever you're doing, then. Aren't you a little old? The way you came running and yelling back up to the hotel earlier, I was terrified. I thought something bad had happened!”

  “There's a ghostly little girl down on the jetty,” I stammer, “and she wants something from me! Please, if you love me, you have to look after me and not leave the room, not even for a second! If you do, she'll come and drag me down to the jetty and drown me, and I'll be gone forever!”

  “Steven -”

  “I saw it in her eyes!” I hiss, feeling a tight grip of fear in my chest. “She's hungry! And angry! She obviously wants revenge for something, and she won't stop until she gets it! You have to promise to stay with me all night, and then you have to promise that we'll leave first thing in the morning. If we stay any longer than that, she'll kill me! She'll drag me into the water and rip my heart out and then you'll find my body on the shore in the morning! And then you'll feel sorry, because I'll be dead and you'll know it's all your fault!”

  Leaning toward her, I wrap my arms around her waist and hug her tight, while sobbing gently. After a moment, she reaches up and starts strokin
g the side of my head.

  “I'll stay in here with you tonight, Steven,” she says with a sigh, as if she still doesn't quite believe me. “But after that, you're going to have to be a brave boy for the rest of our holiday.”

  “You saw the scratches on my ankle!” I sob. “She did that!”

  “Of course she did, sweetheart,” she replies, stroking the top of my head. “Of course she did.”

  ***

  The following morning, as we enter the dining room for breakfast, I can't help glancing around and checking to make sure the strange little girl isn't here. I'm trembling slightly, even though I really don't want anyone to see that I'm afraid.

  “We'll take our usual table,” Dad says, leading Mum over to the buffet.

  Holding back, I look at each and every person in the room, just to check who they are. All I see is a row of elderly faces, and I feel a faint flicker of relief as I realize that perhaps the girl really isn't going to come up to the hotel. After all, I only saw her on the jetty, so I suppose it's more than possible that she's somehow stuck down there. So long as I stay away from the jetty, I might be safe.

  “Steven?” a female voice says suddenly, as I feel somebody tap my shoulder from behind.

  Gasping, I spin around, only to find that the pretty receptionist is smiling at me. She's gorgeous, and I wouldn't mind a girlfriend like her when I'm older. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to stop shaking.

  “You're Steven Culshaw, aren't you?” she continues. “Mr. Nash's nephew?”

  “That's right,” I stammer. “Why?”

  “There's nothing to worry about,” she says, as her grin widens. “Mr. Nash simply left a note at the front desk this morning. He wondered whether, after breakfast, you might be able to go up to his room and speak with him for a moment. So long as your parents don't mind.”

  “Mr. Nash wants to see me?”

  She nods. “He said it's very important.”

  ***

  “Go on!” Mum whispers behind me, and I turn to see her and Dad peering around the corner as if they're scared to come any further. “Knock on the door!”

  “Can't you come with me?” I ask.

  “Of course not!” Dad hisses. “He didn't ask to see all three of us, did he? Just you. I know enough about Jobard Nash to realize that he's always very specific about these things. If he sent for you, Steven, there must be a reason!”

  “Have you ever met him?” I stammer.

  Mum and Dad glance at one another, before turning back to me.

  “He's a recluse,” Dad explains. “There are probably only two or three people who've seen him in the past thirty years. He spends all his time in his office, directing the hotel's operations by phone and leaving notes downstairs. According to the receptionist, you're the first person he's actually asked to see in person since... Well, since she started working here. This could be a big deal!”

  “Just go in there and be as polite as you can,” Mum continues. “Remember, first impressions are everything! You want Mr. Nash to like you, don't you?”

  “Nash isn't even his real name, is it?” Dad mutters. “It's Maurice Mecklethorpe. What kind of ponce changes his name like that?”

  “Go on, Steven!” Mum hisses. “Don't keep him waiting!”

  Although I really don't want to do this, I guess it's better than spending time downstairs. After all, I'm still worried about the little girl showing up again, so I turn and make my way toward the door at the far end of the corridor. This entire hotel is starting to feel incredibly freaky, and when I get to the door I turn and look over my shoulder. Sure enough, Mum and Dad are still watching my every move.

  “Just leave me alone,” I mutter under my breath, before turning to face the door.

  I take a deep breath.

  This is ridiculous.

  Reaching out, I knock.

  From inside the office, there's a faint creaking sound.

  “You may enter!” an elderly voice croaks finally.

  I hesitate for a moment, wondering exactly what I'm going to find, and then finally I reach out and turn the handle. Pushing the door open, I look through and see a large, open room with large sunny windows. At the far end of the room, there's an old man sitting at a desk, and he continues to write in some kind of large book as I step inside.

  “Close the door,” he continues, not even looking up at me. “There's a good boy.”

  I push the door shut, before making my way cautiously across the room.

  “I must warn you,” he continues, “that I am not accustomed to speaking to children. In fact, I have never spoken to one before, not in all my life. I shall speak to you as if you are an adult, and you must simply try to raise yourself to my level. If you cannot do that, our business will be brief.”

  I wait, wondering whether he wants me to speak yet.

  “So you're my brother's grandson, I believe,” he mutters, not sounding particularly impressed as he finally sets his pen down and looks at me. “The heir to the throne, so to speak. I've been told that you and your parents have visited the hotel on several occasions over the years. I never came down to greet you, of course, because I simply had too much to get done up here. I never paid much attention to matters concerning my extended family, or -”

  He stops suddenly, although his jaw is still moving, as if he's chewing something. He's so old, I guess maybe he's dying. I want to turn and leave.

  “They're always telling me I should get out of this room,” he continues, sounding a little breathless now. “I have a private doctor who insists on coming to visit me, once every month. He goes on and on about the need for a little fresh air, and he seems to be of the opinion that I'd benefit from going downstairs and mingling with the guests. What he doesn't understand, of course, is that this hotel will not run itself. Without me, the place would surely go to ruin. I am this hotel, and this hotel is me. Can you understand that, boy?”

  He pauses, still watching me.

  “Well?” he adds finally. “What's wrong with you, child? Cat got your tongue?”

  “No,” I reply, “I just... I don't know what to say.”

  “Well, at least you're honest, I'll give you that. At least you're not one of those blatherers, rumbling on and on, even when their heads are empty. It's a wise man who knows when to shut up. You remind me a little of myself at your age. That's a very...”

  He pauses, as if he's struggling to get his breath back.

  “A very good thing...”

  Reaching down, he slowly turns and wheels himself past the side of the desk. I hadn't realized he was in a wheelchair, but now he's slowly coming closer and I have to fight the urge to step back. In all my life, I don't think I've ever seen somebody who looks so old, and there must be a million wrinkles running this way and that all over his face. As he reaches me, I realize that he must be close to a hundred years old. Maybe even more. In fact, I think I might have overheard Mum and Dad saying that he's something like 105.

  “I sit and look out the window every night,” he says, parking himself directly in front of me. “I watch the patio, and the area around the swimming pool. It's my way of keeping up with the world, and I can see more than is strictly necessary. Last night, for instance, I saw a young boy making his way into the darkness of the forest. It's not often that somebody goes out there late at night, so I took my binoculars and I trained them on the distant lake. I could just about make out the jetty, and what do you think I saw there, hmm?”

  I swallow hard. “I don't know. Sir.”

  “I saw you,” he continues. “You walked all the way to the jetty's far end. Not so unusual, I suppose. But then you turned around, didn't you? Because you saw something.”

  “I don't know.”

  “You don't know whether you saw something?”

  “I mean...”

  My voice trails off.

  “You saw her, didn't you?” he adds, leaning toward me slightly as his voice fills with anticipation. “You saw the ghost of Ruth M
aywhistle.”

  I feel a flutter of fear in my chest. “I saw someone,” I tell him. “A little girl. But no-one believes me.”

  “I believe you, Steven.”

  “She scratched my ankle.”

  “Let me see.”

  I pause for a moment, before reaching down and pulling my trouser leg up, and then I turn so that the old man can see the set of scratches that run through my flesh.

  “I wanted to get it checked by a doctor,” I explain, “but Mum said it wasn't too deep. She's like that.”

  “And you saw her?” he continues, sounding breathless once more. “You really saw her?”

  “I saw her silhouette. It was a little girl.”

  Dropping my trouser leg, I look at the old man's face and see that he seems lost in thought.

  “It's been a long time since she was spotted in the hotel,” he says finally. “A long time since she was spotted anywhere. Until I heard you crying out last night, I rather hoped she might have faded away entirely, but now I see I was gravely wrong. If she is confining herself to the area around the jetty, she must have a reason. It is my belief that she is trying to reconcile her spectral and physical forms. Do you know what I mean by that, child?”

  I shake my head.

  “It means she wants to raise her body from the water.”

  Again, I swallow hard.

  “If she manages it,” he continues, “she'll walk back up here and she'll come for me. She knows she needs a physical form if she's going to get close, because she knows I'll simply ignore her spirit. She's resourceful and sly, and I dare say that she has come up with a rather good idea. I suppose the lust for vengeance can do that to a person. She was just a dumb, idiotic child when she died. She has changed since then, and I doubt she can ever change back.”

  “I don't know what you're talking about,” I stammer. “I just -”

  “Of course you know,” he snaps, interrupting me. “Don't try to play me for a fool. Now, I called you up here today because I want to make a deal with you. I'm a businessman at heart, and making deals is the only way I know of dealing with any problem. I have something to offer you, something very valuable, and it's yours provided you'll perform an act of kindness for me.”