Harper's Hotel Ghost Girl

by Amy Cross

  I watch her face, and I swear I can see the horror spreading across her features.

  “No,” Mum whispers, her voice filled with shock now, “it can't... I know it's not her, it can't be her.”

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, as Dad puts a hand on her shoulder. “Mum? There's no -”

  Suddenly she turns and looks straight at me, and then she screams.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “After the loop ended,” Hannah says, as we sit in the hotel's empty kitchen, “I was able to leave and look into a few things. I got to better understand the whole situation.”

  I'm dead.

  That was my body in room 119.

  “You had to die here,” she continues. “It's unfair, but it's true. I think I see that now. And in all honesty, I don't think I would ever have been able to save you. I think I was sent here to minimize any damage that ensued. I had some tidying up to do over the night, but I more or less got all of that done.” She pauses for a moment. “Do you remember coming to this hotel before, Stephanie?”

  I turn to her.

  “I'll take that shocked look as a no, then,” she says.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask.

  “You came to Harper's Hotel as a little girl,” she continues. “Your parents brought you, you stayed in room 119. I don't know the details. As far as I can tell, you were originally supposed to die then, but time got stuck in a small loop. That happens from time to time. That original loop probably lasted no more than a few dozen go-arounds, with you dying each time until eventually the loop disintegrated and you survived.”

  “I don't remember anything like that happening,” I tell her.

  “You wouldn't.”

  “My parents never mentioned it!”

  “These loops have a way of erasing themselves from the record,” she explains. “Besides, human minds are very good at ignoring things that don't fit their viewpoints.” She pauses again. “You were supposed to die back then, Stephanie, but you didn't. You carried on living a normal life. But the need for you to die remained, and eventually the deadline began to come closer. Do you happen to remember how and why you ended up taking the job here at the hotel?”

  “I wanted to get away from home,” I reply, “and try something different.”

  “Dark forces were at work,” she mutters. “Yesterday must have been too close for comfort to the deadline. Very soon, something is going to happen at this hotel that requires you to be dead. I know that's not fair, but it's true. The question is -”

  “No!” I say firmly, getting to my feet.

  “Stephanie -”

  “This is all nonsense,” I continue, unable to hide my anger. “Why would I have to die? You've still never explained that!”

  “I'm still figuring it out.”

  “I'm alive,” I tell her. “I don't know what kind of rubbish you're trying to pull, but I know I'm alive. I'd know if I'd died!”

  “I'm not sure you would.”

  “If I'd died, I wouldn't be here, would I?” I continue, trying to get all this madness straight in my head. “Death is death, it means you go away.”

  “Or you become a ghost,” she suggests, unhelpfully.

  “You're some kind of magician,” I continue, as I start to understand exactly what's happening here. “Or a con artist. Is that it? Are you some kind of illusionist who goes around tricking people? Let me guess, soon you'll tell me you can help me out, but only if I pay you.”

  “Don't be ridiculous,” she replies.

  “You're good at it,” I add. “I'll give you that. For a moment, you really freaked me out. How did you do it, anyway? Did you give me some kind of drug?”

  “I was trying to help you.”

  “I don't even know what you are!” I snap.

  “I told you. It's complicated.”

  “Are you some kind of angel? Is that what it is?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Or a demon?”

  Again, she shakes her head.

  “What, then? God?”

  “My name is Hannah and I'm -”

  “Shut up!” I scream, as I put my hands on the sides of my head. I feel as if my thoughts are about to burst out through my skull. “Just shut up! I don't want to hear anymore! I'm going to figure this out, and I don't need your help. Whatever's wrong, I can...”

  My voice trails off.

  “Fix it?” she asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

  Filled with frustration, I turn and storm out of the kitchen. As soon as I reach the dining room, however, I realize I can hear voices nearby, and I turn to look over at the table in front of the large windows.

  “NO!” Mum's voice shouts suddenly. “IT'S NOT TRUE!”

  I look around, but there's no sign of her. She sounded far away, as if maybe she's upstairs, but suddenly I see that there are several men sitting at a nearby table. I hesitate for a moment, before going over to try talking to them.

  “Where's my mother?” I ask. “And my father. Please, you have to help me.”

  “I don't know what to say,” one of the men mutters with a sigh. “I never really knew Stephanie very well, but she always seemed like a nice girl. It's hard to believe that something this awful could have happened here at our hotel.”

  “I feel so bad for poor Eleanor, too,” the man next to him replies. “She's the one who found the dead girl. I don't know how anyone could ever get over anything like that. George called her husband and sister, to get them to come in and comfort her. They'll be here soon.”

  “I don't know what to do,” another man, who I recognize as a kitchen worker, says. “I just don't know. There's no -”

  Suddenly I hear a scream, and I turn just as I start to realize that I've experienced this moment before. During one of the loops – during many of them, maybe – I overheard snatches of this moment. Is it possible that the next day was always trying to break through, and that I was hearing snippets of events that are now playing out right in front of me?

  “I have to find Mum,” I say, taking a step back. “I have to make her realize that I'm -”

  “Stephanie?”

  Startled, I turn to see that Hannah is standing right behind me. I open my mouth to tell her that I don't want to hear any more of her rubbish, but then in an instant I realize she might be right about one thing.

  “I remember,” I stammer finally, as a rush of shock hits my chest. “I remember being here before. At Harper's Hotel, when I was a little girl. And... I remember dying over and over again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Many years earlier

  “You keep saying that,” I tell Daddy, “but we still haven't got there yet. How much longer is it really going to be?”

  “We just have to find the hotel, Stephanie, and then we can check in.” She turns to me from the passenger seat, and she smiles that smile she always uses when she doesn't want to show that she's annoyed. “Just be a patient little girl for a few more minutes, okay?”

  “Are we still going to go to the zoo today?” I ask.

  “If we have time.”

  “Will we have time?”

  “We should do. As long as we find the hotel soon.” She turns to Daddy. “That's your father's job, though.”

  “I know exactly where we're going,” Daddy says, sounding a little tense. “I'm not an idiot.”

  They start arguing, but I don't really want to listen to any of that. Instead, I turn and look out the window, and I see unfamiliar city streets flashing past. I've been to cities before, of course, but this is the first time I've been old enough to really pay attention. Where we live, in our little town, there are lots of green open spaces and everyone looks happy. Here, there's not much grass at all, and after a moment I spot a man sitting on the sidewalk in a sleeping bag, begging for money. I turn and watch as we pass him, and for a moment I can't help wondering why he's living like that. If it could happen to him, why couldn't it happen to me and to Mummy and Daddy?


  Looking up, I see a big billboard advertising the zoo. I feel a brief flutter of excitement, but then I spot a huge picture of a roaring tiger and I start to feel scared. I've always liked tigers before, but for some reason this time I feel scared as I see its giant fangs. We drive past and I turn, craning my neck so that I can still see the picture, and then it goes out of view. I still feel scared, and I don't know why that should be. When we studied tigers in school a few months ago, they were my favorite big animal ever.

  “Finally,” Daddy says, and the car suddenly comes to a halt.

  Turning, I see that Daddy's already unbuckling his safety belt. I look around and see a diner nearby, then I turn and look up, and I see that we're parked opposite a big, tall old building made out of gray bricks.

  “Are we here?” I ask.

  “We're here,” Mummy sighs. “It only took us twice as long as it would have with a decent map.”

  “I didn't need a navigation system,” Daddy mutters.

  After un-clicking my safety belt, I step out of the car and then I make my way around and take another look at the building. It looks quite dull and old, but there are lights on inside and after a moment I look up and see that there's a large, red neon sign on the top.

  “Harper's Hotel,” I whisper, before turning to Mummy as she takes a bag out of the back of the car. “Is this where we're staying?”

  “It sure is, sweetheart,” she replies. “Don't worry. I'm sure the inside's much nicer than it looks. It's just an old hotel, that's all. Isn't that exciting?”

  “I guess.”

  “It's better than some out-of-town motel,” she continues. “Those places are so soulless. This hotel has history. It has character. Maybe even a little charm. It'll be fun, I promise.”

  She hands me my ladybird backpack and I put it over my shoulders, then she takes my hand and starts leading me across the road. Daddy's pulling two suitcases, and he's still complaining about something, but I don't listen as I look toward the hotel and see that there's a girl watching us from one of the windows. I don't mind that, of course, but after a moment I realize that she looks worried about something.

  Suddenly I hear screeching tires, and I turn just in time to see a car slam straight into us.

  ***

  “Are we there yet?”

  “Not long, sweetheart,” Daddy says from the passenger seat. “Just be patient and we'll be there real soon.”

  “You keep saying that,” I point out, “but we still haven't got there yet. How much longer is it really going to be?”

  “We just have to find the hotel, Stephanie, and then we can check in.” She turns to me and smiles. “Just be a patient little girl for a few more minutes, okay?”

  “Are we still going to go to the zoo today?” I ask, as I start rubbing the aching spot on my left arm.

  “If we have time.”

  “Will we have time?”

  “We should do. As long as we find the hotel soon.” She turns to Daddy. “That's your father's job, though.”

  “I know exactly where we're going,” Daddy says, sounding a little tense. “I'm not an idiot.”

  They start arguing, but I don't really want to listen to any of that. Instead, I turn and look out the window, and I see unfamiliar city streets flashing past. This is my first proper time in the city. I've been to cities before, but that was back when I was a really little girl. Now I'm nine, so this is the first time I've come to the city when I'm grown up. I thought it'd be exciting, but everything looks so dirty and now I'm scared that something bad might happen. Even the people look like they haven't had a wash for a long time, and some of them look like they're crazy. I'm starting to think that I want us to go straight home. I can go to the zoo another time. I can go to a different zoo, somewhere nicer.

  “Honey, are you okay?” Mummy asks.

  Turning to her, I realize that I'm getting a little out of breath.

  “You're breathing funny,” she continues. “Stephanie, do you feel okay?”

  Reaching toward me, she puts the back of her hand against my forehead.

  “She's sweating a lot,” she says, with a hint of concern in her voice. “I think maybe we need to get her to an emergency room.”

  “She'll be fine,” Daddy says, briefly glancing at me before looking at the road again. “Don't fuss.”

  “What's wrong with your arm?” Daddy asks as I start rubbing my shoulder, where the ache is getting worse. “Stephanie, talk to me. Say something. How are you feeling?”

  I open my mouth to answer, but suddenly everything seems wrong. My arms are heavy, and the pain in my left side is starting to flicker and really hurt now. I let out a faint whimper, and then I look down at my hands and see that they're turning a kind of purple-blue color. A moment later I feel the car coming to a halt, and then the door next to me opens and Mummy leans in.

  “We need help,” she says, “she's really sick!”

  “Daddy, what's wrong with me?” I just about manage to ask, but I feel dizzy now. I feel Daddy unfastening my safety belt, and then I immediately lean to one side and fall against the seat.

  “Let me see!” Daddy shouts.

  “I think she's having a heart attack!” Mummy says. “Call an ambulance!” She leans closer and kisses the side of my face. “It's okay, Stephanie, you're going to be fine.”

  She says some more things, but I don't hear any of them. There's a crushing pain in my chest, like something's trying to squash me, and I can feel myself getting weaker and weaker with every passing second. Soon Daddy's voice sounds so far away, it's like I'm dreaming, and then I realize that someone seems to be hitting me in the chest and breathing into my mouth. None of that matters, though, because there's a bright white light all around me and finally, slowly, everything goes blank.

  ***

  “This place smells funny,” I point out as Mummy and Daddy lead me away from the top of the stairs. “Do we have to stay here?”

  “It's only for one night,” Daddy says.

  “But it smells old and dirty.” I'm not lying. It does smell old and dirty, and the carpet looks like it's never been washed. “I don't like it.”

  “Suddenly the kid's a hotel inspector,” Daddy mutters, stopping at a door and taking a key from his pocket. “Relax, Stephanie, it's just a stopover. We'll go to the zoo, then we'll have something to eat, then we'll sleep and then by this time tomorrow we'll be on the road again. God forbid that we miss your aunt's birthday party on Saturday.”

  “We're going to the party,” Mummy says as Daddy opens the door to room 119. “She's turning forty.”

  “And how's her latest meltdown going?”

  They take me into the room, and I stop in the doorway as I see that everything's brown. The carpet's brown. The drapes are brown. The bed sheets are brown. The furniture's brown. All slightly different shades of brown, but still brown. Looking around, I spot an old-fashioned phone on a nearby table, and then I see clouds of dust fly into the air as Daddy puts one of the cases on the bed.

  “I think I understand now why this place was so cheap,” Daddy says, running a fingertip along the top of the table. “It's not exactly the cleanest hotel in the world.”

  “It'll do for one night,” Mummy replies. “It's got... What's that phrase again? Old-world charm. It was originally opened in the 1930s.”

  “It looks like it hasn't been cleaned since the 1930s.”

  As they – yet again – start arguing, I realize I can hear someone laughing nearby. Turning, I look out at the corridor, and then I peer around the side of the door and look along toward the elevator. There's no-one there, but then I look the other way and I see that there's a man standing nearby. The laughter stops as soon as I see him, and I'm surprised by the sad expression on his face. He looks old and pale.

  I offer a smile, but he continues to simply stare at me.

  Turning to Mummy and Daddy, I realize that they're having a proper argument about Aunt Denise's birthday party, so I figure there's no po
int disturbing them. I pause, and then I step back out into the corridor and step toward the man, although I'm a little scared by the way he's looking at me.

  “Hey,” I say cautiously, stopping as I feel the air getting really cold all around me.

  I wait, but he doesn't say anything.

  “My name's Stephanie,” I continue, reaching a hand out toward him. Mummy and Daddy have always told me to be polite. “Stephanie Lawson.”

  He says nothing.

  “What's your name?” I ask.

  No reply.

  “I'm here with Daddy and -”

  I stop myself just in time.

  “I'm here with my parents,” I continue, wanting to sound a little more grown-up. “They like it here but I think it smells bad. Do you think it smells bad?”

  He pauses, and then slowly he shrugs. It's not much, but at least it's some kind of acknowledgment.

  “Where are you from?” I ask, although as I say those words I can't help but notice that his clothes look kind of old-fashioned. “Are you traveling, like we are?”

  “I guess,” he says cautiously. “I was. Once.”

  “We're going to my aunt's birthday,” I tell him. “We don't normally go, but this year she's turning forty and my parents say we have to support her. I don't think she likes her birthday.”

  “Adults don't always,” he replies.

  “When's your birthday?” I ask.

  “I dunno.”

  “How can you not know?”

  He shrugs again. “I really don't think it matters much anymore.”

  “We're going to the zoo,” I continue, “which is good. I've always wanted to go to a proper zoo and see really big animals. We're going to go this afternoon if we have time, but we might be too late now. I don't know.”

  “I've been to a zoo,” he says. “That was a long time ago, though. I must have been about your age.”

  “What's your name?” I ask.

  He pauses.

  “Humphrey,” he says finally.

  “That's cool.”