Some of the most vivid memories of my childhood are of those moments in the middle of the night, laying flat as a pancake praying to God that I would sink into my mattress, willing my mom to hear the faint whimpers I managed to squeak out and come running into my room to rub my tiny back, sticky from the cold sweat clinging to my favorite jammies—the pink baseball uniform.
I’m in my twenties and that helpless, paralyzing fear has once again taken over, granted this time it’s warranted…I’m staying in a real-life haunted hotel.
If I was down with cursing, I would drop a long litany of words that would make my Grandmother blush because it’s down to either that or crying big sloppy tears while staring down the baby door in the corner that is surely housing some tiny ghost that wants to eat me.
It started like any other horror movie. Cute girl (what’s up, self-compliment?) far away from home, stepping foot into a situation that you, as the viewer, think “What the frick are you doing, girl? Get outta there!” I would be lying if I said I hadn’t considered packing my bags multiple times since checking-in.
I’m in my twenties and that helpless, paralyzing fear has once again taken over, granted this time it’s warranted…I’m staying in a real-life haunted hotel.
If I was down with cursing, I would drop a long litany of words that would make my Grandmother blush because it’s down to either that or crying big sloppy tears while staring down the baby door in the corner that is surely housing some tiny ghost that wants to eat me.
It started like any other horror movie. Cute girl (what’s up, self-compliment?) far away from home, stepping foot into a situation that you, as the viewer, think “What the frick are you doing, girl? Get outta there!” I would be lying if I said I hadn’t considered packing my bags multiple times since checking-in.
The lobby is exquisite. Dark mahogany paneling, crystal chandelier and what I assume is the original cage elevator, equipped with a little old man who learns each patron by name. I checked-in after a late flight at a deserted front desk. No upgrade, just get me to a room. Yes, key for one. Yes, I’m sure no one else will be joining me, but thanks for the confidence in my game. Then, she dropped this doozy on me.
“Oh. 3001. Your room is the only one that isn’t where it is supposed to be.”
“Oh. 3001. Your room is the only one that isn’t where it is supposed to be.”
Excuse me? Hey, lady, quit speaking in tongues and riddles. I don’t know what you are saying, Rumpelstiltskin.
After exiting said caged elevator, to what I considered a really creepy laugh by the attendant when he found out I was staying alone, I turned to the right to go find my door amidst all of the others. I half expected to see a kid on a trike and some twins running around. This hall is straight out of The Shining. In theory, my door would be with all of the others….but theories are shot in a horror movie. My door was to the left. All.by.itself.
When I opened the door, it hit me. I really am going to die tonight. This is one of those moments, that looking back, when a ghost is staring down your face that you think ‘Yup, should’ve seen that coming.” I set my stuff down and turned on every light in the house. Behind each of the four, count them four, creepy closet doors stood a surplus of pillows, robes and dead bodies. I flipped on each solitary light bulb and sat cross legged on my bed, which is where I still sit, to this moment.
After exiting said caged elevator, to what I considered a really creepy laugh by the attendant when he found out I was staying alone, I turned to the right to go find my door amidst all of the others. I half expected to see a kid on a trike and some twins running around. This hall is straight out of The Shining. In theory, my door would be with all of the others….but theories are shot in a horror movie. My door was to the left. All.by.itself.
When I opened the door, it hit me. I really am going to die tonight. This is one of those moments, that looking back, when a ghost is staring down your face that you think ‘Yup, should’ve seen that coming.” I set my stuff down and turned on every light in the house. Behind each of the four, count them four, creepy closet doors stood a surplus of pillows, robes and dead bodies. I flipped on each solitary light bulb and sat cross legged on my bed, which is where I still sit, to this moment.
About five minutes ago, I decided to ignore the fact that my bathroom door keeps closing on its own. That’s normal, right? Obvi it isn’t the product of some estranged former lover who killed herself in a fit of passion and misery….or is it.
This is going to be one of those sleep with your Bible and crucifix kind of nights. I racked my brain trying to come up with ways to stay safe. Bible. Check. Reciting prayers. Check and check. Garlic. Check. Salt. Check. A Colt 45. Welp….here’s wishing. (cue: Afroman)
I can’t remember a time when my fear of the dark wasn’t as issue. My tiny-self devised multiple safe-guards against the terrors of the night. I would run (read: sprint) from my room to the safety of the lighted living room after turning off the lights. An army of stuffed friends stood guard on my bed, though after hearing rumors from my older sister that they would come to life and kill me if I made them mad, their presence soon cast an ominous shadow on my 1st grade brow. The ritual of creating an equal opportunity environment so one didn’t get upset and start the mutiny, Lord of the Flies style, was daunting to me, though humorous to my parents who never understood the underlying cause of my benevolence.
The day my dad brought home a television for my room, I’m pretty sure the heavens parted ways and the angels sang. “Let there be light!” says I throwing my tiny fist skyward in defiance, and with that light, the ability to sleep through the night. Take that, ghosties! (okay, don’t judge me…I was 9 and convinced that ghosts couldn’t come around if there were lights. If you’ve ever seen that toothfairy movie, you know what I’m talking about.)
Right now all I want is my dad…or maybe that Colt 45. And it would be really nice if that small pale figure would stop staring at me through the window. I’m just kidding….kinda.
So long, World, its been real.
No comments:
Post a Comment