img url
It was a late morning in July, and the sun was high over the ocean. The bright, clear light lit the waves on the beach. Waves rolled onto the shore, making gentle splashes, and the sound of the surf echoed through the silent town. The summer vacations over, everything was still and calm.
Kara strolled down the street, window shopping. Each shop was the same: a small shop with an old-fashioned bell above the door. Each shop sold the same things for summer vacationers: sandals, souvenirs, and sundresses.
When Kara turned the corner, she was surprised to see a large building ahead. It was made of white marble with a beautiful design carved into the front.
"Now, what is this?" she thought. Kara squinted at one door, trying to read the sign. Her eyes widened. It was the White Rose Hotel.
Kara had heard of the hotel before, but she had never been there. The White Rose Hotel was a large marble structure on the west side of town. It once had been very, very fancy, but in the past forty years, it had fallen into a state of disrepair.
No one ever stayed there, and all the shops nearby had gone out of business. Locals told Kara that it was cursed. The hotel was a place where nothing good happened. It was a place, they said, where loved ones died.
She stood outside the entrance for a few minutes, hesitating. She didn't know if she was brave enough to begin, but her curiosity won out.
She pushed open the front door and entered the lobby. It was a large, elegant space with leather furniture and wood panels on the walls. A grand staircase led from the front door to an elegant ballroom in the middle of the loft. The stairs, on the floor, looked like they had not been used in decades. The walls, however, were covered in a fine layer of dust.
Kara walked into the reception. The reception desk was covered in dust. The small blue water bowl was still full of water, but she could see little waves of dust moving in the water.
Set behind the desk was a door with a small sign that said, Hospitality Room. Kara cautiously pushed the door open. It was a large, well-equipped kitchen. It smelled of old spices mixed with dust. In the middle of the room was a small table, covered with dust. Pushed into the corner was a small table. A cup of tea was still sitting on it, cooled long ago. Kara could tell someone had put it down, intending to return for it quickly.
She turned around, and she saw that the front door was now closed. The cold draft from the open door was on her face. She covered her mouth, and her nose crinkled, sniffing the air. She was sure she smelled something.
"Sulfur," she said to herself, her eyes growing wide.
She had smelled sulfur before, in the bag with the tea. When she opened the bag, she was hit with the sulfur smell, which was something she had never encountered before.
"I'm sure it will happen again," she said to herself, "but I'm sure of it. The sulfur is still in here. I just have to be patient."
Her eyes traced across the room, exploring. There was furniture, but it was all dusty. Other than the table and chairs, and the area around the kitchen sink, nothing was in good condition. But she could see that many things had been recently replaced. It looked like someone was trying to make the place good again.
A faint sound behind her broke her concentration. She turned around, and she saw the door to the main building open a crack. She could hear music playing softly and she smiled. She walked over to the door and opened it. She stepped out into the cool air and onto a small stoop. The front door was open into the lobby. To her right, the front desk was lit by the sliver of sunlight that came through the open door. To her left was a dark hallway that led to other parts of the hotel. She was still in the lobby, so there was no one coming through the door, but she had a sudden feeling that she was not alone.
She became very uneasy. She didn't know where the feeling came from, but knew she was in danger.
"Who's there?" Kara said in a low whisper, not daring to answer her question. Her body went rigid, and her eyelids fluttered like a frightened rabbit.
The door to the lobby opened slowly. The door made a soft, dull thumping noise as it opened, but Kara heard it just fine.
"Kara?" It was a familiar voice. Her eyes widened.
It was her mother. She stepped into the door, closing it behind her.
"Kara, are you feeling alright?" her mother asked.
Kara breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't feel tremendously surprised. She didn't feel afraid, but Taylor was acting strangely.
"I'm alright, Mom. I just…I was thinking about ghosts, you know?"
"Yes," Her mother moved across the lobby, "that's what I came to talk to you about.
"Why are you guys doing this to me?" Kara said, completely puzzled.
"We don't mean to," Her mother answered. "It's just that we think we can help you, by talking to you about the history of this place. And we're not lying to you."
Kara looked at her mother in astonishment. She remembered the conversation she had with Kevin. Kevin didn't believe her, and thought she was imagining things. Kara could see that there was some reason for what Kevin thought. It was POSSIBLE that she was imagining things.
"Mom, did you hear about the guy that died?" she still said, very quiet.
"What guy?"
"Yeah, this guy that originally bought this hotel. He was a ghost hunter. He died very recently. No one knows how he died."
"Oh, I don't know about ghosts. I did business with this guy. He died recently, yes, but that's not the strange part."
"What is?" Kara asked exasperated.
"It's…it's a ghost hunter that was supposed to be here that night. He was supposed to be interviewing his grandmother. He's never been here, because she passed away 15 years ago. But his grandmother was very wise, very old, and very involved. He was pretty shaken up about his grandmother passing, and was in some kind of trouble about it. Maybe a three-way love triangle. He was here interviewing with the realtor when he heard of his grandmother's passing. He runs a ghost hunting society up at Sally's old house. Sally was very fond of him."
"So, you're saying the guy that died never came here?"
"No, the realtor never told him, and he died believing it. He was supposed to be here that night. He was coming from somewhere else. Here, remember, was suppose to be last on the list. There he was, all the way back in the train station, died, still wearing his train ticket. His heart stopped."
"What does this have to do with me? Why are you both doing this? I don't understand!"
"I'm not doing anything!" her mother said defensively. "I don't know who did! It was all very weird!"
"So, if you don't know who did it, then it must have been the ghost hunter. It's possible that the ghost hunter was murdered."