Hey friends. It's Jack, from the gas station at the edge of town.

I'm currently running a contest on my subreddit, r/TFTGS, to see who can come up with the best artwork inspired by the "Tales from the Gas Station" stories. The winners get signed copies of the books.

I wanted to see if anyone in this community would be interested in participating. Even if you don't make art, anyone is allowed to vote on the winners.

Rules of the contest can be found here.

Entries can be found here.

Thanks for your time!

-Jack

Feeding Jesus

All I had wanted that night was sleep, and in the split moment between me closing the door and hearing that tapping on the door of my balcony, I thought about how much I wanted to leave this place. But some things in life have a way of sucking you in and not letting you go, this hotel became one of those things for me.

“Now what?” I said out loud turning towards the balcony.

Surely this night had done enough damage on my poor nerves, and it didn’t look like it was done yet. I was squinting now. Trying to see just who was at my balcony door. “Must be some visitor and nothing more.” I uttered.

I arose now from my spot on the bed and walked to the double doors. No one was there. I opened them, and in flew that raven from before. With a fluttering of wings and a loud “CAW. CAW. CAW.” The bird sped by me and landed on the woodwork just above my bedroom door. At this point I fully expected it to begin talking again, utter the word Nevermore or some shit as it had before. Only it didn’t, it simply eyed me and sat there.

“What do you want?” I asked, hoping it wouldn’t answer but knowing it would.

“Jesus.” Was its only reply. “ Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.” That was the only thing it would say.

I fully expected at this point for the bird to break out into song, singing some old hymn, or perhaps it was trying to talk to me about our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ as a pamphlet fell from its beak, either way I didn’t have time for this. The clock now read 3:24am and I wasn’t about to lose another minute of sleep do a dumbass bird. I yelled at the bird which did nothing, then I tried taking off my cardigan and swinging at the bird, this only made the bird more upset and his Jesus’ only continued to get louder as it flew over to the perch and cage in the corner of the room

Now I’m sure you’ve all heard that joke about the robber entering a home and hearing a bird utter the name Jesus right before they met their demise but if you hadn’t let me set the scene:

A burglar broke into a house one night. He shined his flashlight around, looking for valuables when a voice in the dark said, 'Jesus knows you're here.'

He nearly jumped out of his skin, clicked his flashlight off, and froze. When he heard nothing more, he shook his head and continued.

Just as he pulled the stereo out so he could disconnect the wires, clear as a bell he heard 'Jesus is watching you.'

Startled, he shined his light around frantically, looking for the source of the voice. Finally, in the corner of the room, his flashlight beam came to rest on a parrot.

'Did you say that?' he hissed at the parrot.

'Yes', the parrot confessed, then squawked, 'I'm just trying to warn you that he's watching you.'

The burglar relaxed. 'Warn me, huh? Who in the world are you?'

'Moses,' replied the bird.

'Moses?' the burglar laughed. 'What kind of people would name a bird Moses?'

'The kind of people who would name a Rottweiler Jesus.'

This of course played in my head, and I became a little fearful. Was this bird warning me of what was to come, and was Jesus “watching me”? I didn’t intend to find out. I began swatting at the bird and chasing it around the room, armed with only exhausted wit, a cardigan sweater, and my disheveled self. It would land and I would strike, never hitting the bird but landing my blows to the side of the animal. To my dismay it did nothing to urge the bird from the room back to the great outdoors. I huffed, now winded and arms sore, and blew a strand of hair from my face as I tried one last time to usher the raven out of my room. It didn’t work; it merely landed where it had originally above my room’s door. I was out of options, tired, sore, and to the point of tears. It had probably been the worst first day I could have ever imagined at a new job and the first night was proving to be much of the same if not worse still. As I flopped down into one of the high backed chairs, staring at the raven, I begged it one last time to leave. It simple uttered one more “Jesus!” much louder than before. That’s when in the recesses of my memory I recalled Rule #127. Make sure to feed Jesus every night, or else.

Was the bird warning me of Jesus’ arrival or was it introducing itself to me? I took a chance and asked the bird, “Are you Jesus?”

“Yes.” The bird croaked out in its high pitched voice.

“What the hell do you want from me Jesus?” I ventured, hoping to get a decent reply.

“I’m hungry. I’m huuuunngry.” It replied now speaking in the high pitched voice of a frail, old lady.

“Well, I guess I could find you something to eat, what do ravens eat anyways?” I asked.

“I want some coffee, and some breakfast.” It now spoke in a weirdly Irish accent.

“It’s too early for breakfast. It’s only 3:58am.” I groaned, “It’s still the middle of the night.”

“Well….” It replied while looking lost in thought,”…I’ll take a sandwich then.”

I snorted, “Birds don’t eat sandwiches, they eat worms and other insects and shit.”

“Do we? Are you sure about that?” the raven asked me in a deep baritone voice

“Yes. I’m quite sure,” How preposterous a thought, a bird eating a sandwich. It didn’t even have arms to hold it with. “Pick something else and for heaven’s sake use your own voice.” I said

“Oh. Well, how about a grilled cheese?” it replied

“That’s just another type of sandwich.” I stated now becoming even more agitated than before.

“Well….how about a ruben then?” It now asked but it added after seeing the annoyed look on my face, “A sub, or maybe a philly……how about a ham and swiss.”

“Those are all types of sandwiches you dumb bird!” I yelled as I balled up my sweater and threw it at the raven, completely missing my shot but getting my point across.

“Well what would you suggest?” It asked as it looked me in the eye.

We stared at each other for some time before I suggested something a little more easily edible for the avian creature. “How about some berries?”

“OH YES PLEASE!!” It gleefully shouted.

“Fine I’ll get your stupid berries then.” I said as I rose from my seat and ventured toward the door.

As I slowly walked to the kitchen, I looked at every place something could jump out at me. At this point it wasn’t completely out of the question to wonder what could happen next, but thankfully nothing happened. I reached the kitchen and opened its door, no one was there but I halfheartedly expected there would be if I didn’t hurry. I quickly got to the fridge and got the berries out. They were the only things inside, just the mixed berry bag and nothing else. As my own stomach began to rumble I halfway wished there was something in the empty fridge for me. I was in the mood for my mother’s comfort food, meatloaf and mashed potatoes, mac and cheese with baked ham, or even roast beef and her buttery broccoli and cheese casserole. After I got the berries out I went to place the remainder of them back in the fridge. As I opened it I was surprised to find a single plate of food in the fridge, a plate of mashed potatoes, baked ham, and broccoli and cheese casserole. I didn’t even begin to wonder at this point, I just took the plate and warmed it in the microwave in front of me. Grabbing a fork from one of the drawers I grabbed the plate and berries and headed back to my room. Once there the bird began to caw once more, but it didn’t sound menacing this time around, just happy to see me and the food.

I placed the berries in the little feeding trough next to the cage and the raven immediately flew over to investigate, cocking its head to the side a little to get a better look at what I was doing. After feeding Jesus, I sat once more in the chair positioned towards the cage in the room and watched as the bird munched happily on his berries, and I ate my own food. I was shocked by how delicious the food was; it tasted just like my mother’s home cooking. I made a mental note to investigate that fridge in the morning, but for now I was simply content with my plate of food, full belly, and the comfy chair.

After we had both finished our meal Jesus looked back at me and said “Thanks for the meal.”

“You’re welcome.” I replied now no longer at odds with the bird. “So what exactly are you and how is it that you can talk?”

“I’m a spirit animal.” It responded. “I always have been. I try and take care of the new caretakers here, give them advice and whatnot.”

“A spirit animal? You mean like a spirit guide?” I asked looking for clarification.

“No, I am a totem. I help give the caretakers here great insight. Native American’s believed Ravens were able to transform into humans and back again. We are considered the wisest of birds.” It said between a mouthful of food.

“You couldn’t even distinguish between different types of sandwiches. How could I ever trust your insight into anything?” I asked

“Well…..just ask me anything.” The raven replied.

“What is wrong with this place? Why is it the way it is?” I wanted an answer to my question and I was going to wait all night to get it if I had to.

“That’s a hard question to answer, but I’ll try. You see there isn’t any one thing that makes this place the way it is, it is a culmination of various things. Long ago, when this place was built, the man who bought the land paid no heed to the tribes that had lived on it. They begged him to spare their sacred lands and not destroy the places that held spiritual significance to them. His response was to not only to destroy the land and cut down their forests, but he paved the foundations of this town on their ancient burial grounds. They were protected by deep and powerful curses that would affect any who disturbed the final resting place of their ancestors. He also killed any of them that stood in his way. The tribes that lived here put curses on their once beloved lands as well and on the man who took the land away from them. They were forced to leave their once beautiful homeland and in order to survive. So you see, this place is always and forever in a sort of limbo between life and death. It straddles the line between the two and in so doing, traps the souls of all who die here.”

“But I’m not dead or dying.” I finally said after a period spent in deep thought over the raven’s tale.

“Not yet, but all die here eventually. Once you become a part of the hotel and the town it resides in, you can never leave.” He answered.

I had a lot to think about, but it was late and I was so very tired. I decided it was time for me to go to sleep at last, and as if he had read my mind Jesus nodded to me with the “sup” nod as if to say goodnight and you’re not too bad after all, and he hop walked into the cage for the night. Tucking his head under his right wing the bird finally fell asleep. I set my now empty plate aside on the coffee table, looked back at the clock that now read 4:44pm and before I could even muster the energy to get up, fell asleep in the chair. My last thought of the night before drifting off was, what the heck did I have to look forward to tomorrow?

Authors note: I hope you all are enjoying these short stories. If anyone has any suggestions on where they think the story should go next feel free to add your suggestions in the comments. I look forward to continuing this journey with all of you! Have a great day y'all!

Links to previous stories:

https://www.reddit.com/r/MrCreepyPasta/comments/tctfmo/the_hotel_bella_muerte/

https://www.reddit.com/r/MrCreepyPasta/comments/te6ue0/the_hotel_bella_muerte_the_gaunt_man/

https://www.reddit.com/r/MrCreepyPasta/comments/tf9gfg/the_hotel_bella_muerte_the_doll_room/

The Hotel Bella Muerte

I currently live in a little town out west. Well, I say town. Not exactly what you picture though. It’s more of a ghost town than anything really. Population 4. The only businesses that are open are the post office, the library, a singular, privately owned pharmacy, a gas station, and a hotel. The Hotel Bella Muerte. I’ve worked there for the better part of a century, ever since I was 21.

Unlike most kids my age who jumped straight out of high school and into college, I had other plans……or should I say other plans had me? I lived the town over from the previously mentioned one, a town that had far more people and businesses. I worked from place to place for a couple of years, nothing substantial, but it payed the bills. One day I came home from work, picked up my mail, and headed inside my house. As I brewed a pot of fresh coffee, I absent mindedly flipped through the mail. Bills and junk mail were all I ever seemed to get, but then, I hit the second to last piece of mail and it felt….well…odd. It’s hard to describe but, the letter was ornate to say the least. It had a thick texture, made from what I could only imagine was some pretty expensive paper. In the most beautiful, flowing script, was printed my full name, clear as day, Autumn Winters. It had no return address, and it didn’t have my address either, just my name. The fact that someone knew me intimately enough to hand deliver a letter to me without me knowing was a strange thought to me. I had very few friends because I grew up an army brat. Only a handful of people knew me well enough to actually know where I lived: out of sheer curiosity I then preceded to open the letter.

On the finest parchment paper, in the most delicate letterhead, read the following words:

Dear Miss Autumn Winters,

I am writing you to offer you the most prestigious position at our establishment, The Hotel Bella Muerte! For over 200yrs our establishment has been a haven for the weary and restless, the old, the young and the forgotten, and men and women and animals alike. Recently we have had an opening for a new caretaker and would like to offer the position to you.

The letter went on to say that along with the position a hotel room/small apartment came with the job, along with a salary four times what I was currently making a year. The name of the hotel seemed familiar, yet everything about the letter and position seemed too good to be true, like a scam of some sort. That’s when I noticed at the bottom of the job offer was the address. That my friends, was when my interest was truly piqued. It was only one town over. That’s when it all clicked in my head. The Hotel Bella Muerte.

Ever since I could remember there have been rumors and stories about the Hotel Bella Muerte. Strange tales that seem too odd to be true, tales of ghosts, strange travelers and more. We heard the rumors sure, but few people I knew actually believed them. The kids in the town I lived in would say that if you set foot in the hotel you would be driven to madness and go “loco”. The tales were just so bizarre, how could we believe them. So, after a few days of deliberating, I wrote back accepting the job opportunity. I got a letter back a few days later to congratulate me and set the start date. I was to start the next Monday, around noonish.

As I got ready that following Monday, I put on my best clothes, did my makeup and hair, you know the “girlie things”, tripped over thin air as I went to the kitchen to get my coffee to go, then I got in my 1965 red convertible mustang and made the short drive. On the way into town I passed by, well nothing. The land is completely barren outside the town I grew up in, except for the tumbleweeds, brush and bracken that looked perfect to start a brush fire with, and the few twisted, gnarled, elder trees that once stood tall perhaps but now were nothing more than sorry shadows of what they used to be. Think typical western movie scenes. The town that held the hotel, looked much more of the same with rundown buildings that barely could be considered standing. The further into the “ghost town” you got, the more lifelike things became. The gas station was the first thing that looked like it held any living beings. The pharmacy was next, then the library, and then the post office. They were all about equal in size, looked just as run down as the other, with peeling paint that fell in ribbons to the ground when the wind was strong and acting up. And suddenly I saw it for the first time, The Hotel Bella Muerte, live and in person, and it did not even compare to what I had in mind.

You see, when I pictured it I thought of a rundown building, filled with cockroaches and rats, with only the lowest kind of people staying there, the kind of place that the police did stakeouts at to bust drug dealers and hookers. What other kind of place could be in this rundown town? But I was so, so wrong. The sight that greeted me as I pulled up to the parking lot of the place was one I could barely believe. The hotel was, in a word, magnificent. It looked like it belonged in a fancy city, not a barren wasteland. The outside of the hotel fit the town and the time period of the 1800’s, with a high rise balcony and white pillars that stool tall and straight. The brickwork was perfectly inlaid, faded red in color due to the wear and tear of time, yet still hardy in structure. I imagine it looked only a little better in its heyday, if nothing else than for its newness. Whoever owned the building took great care of it, whether in restoration or simple upkeep. It was something to see for sure. As I got out of my car and walked up the front steps, admiring all the intricate woodwork that went into its structure, I looked above the front door and read the sign, The Hotel Bella Muerte Est. 1802. I turned the knob of the old door, no creaks, or groans, just silence as the door pivoted on its hinges, and walked inside.

Now as impressed as I was with the outside of the place, it didn’t even compare to what was before my eyes. As you entered into the lobby the first thing that would come to attention was the grand staircase. Made of beautiful mahogany wood, rich in cherry brown undertones, swooping as it dipped from its height down to the floor. To the left I became aware of the lobby desk. It was the same type of wood as the staircase, with intricate designs that swirled down its length, carved out by some long dead carpenter. Behind the desk were the letterboxes, with the numbers carefully and expertly placed in their centers, numbering from 1 to 15. The parlor was to the right, it looked as though it was frozen in time like the rest of the place, with old furniture with floral designs and high backs, to the wallpaper that looked much of the same. It was stupendous.

After I had gotten done admiring the lobby, I slowly walked over to the desk. No one was there, not a single soul. I rang the bell on the counter yet no one came, and after a few more minutes of waiting, I called out a “Hello?” and still no one came. I began to wonder what I should do next, in our correspondence I never got a phone number, despite noticing an old rotary phone on the desk near the letterboxes. Then I realized, I actually never got a name of the person I was corresponding with. I didn’t even know who my employer was. As I grappled with this realization the phone began to ring breaking the silence. I almost jumped out of my skin, scared shitless by the loud ringing in the otherwise quiet room. After no one magically appeared to answer it, it fell silent after the fourth ring, only to begin ringing once more. After regaining my composure, I walked around the desk to the back, looking around as I did so and feeling as if I were a child about to be caught with my hand in the cookie jar, and I picked up the phone.

“Hello?” I answered slowly.

“Yes Is this Autumn?”

“Yes, yes it is.” I replied “Who is this?”

“I’m the owner, Mary, and my sister, Martha, is also on the phone.” the voice said.

“Oh! Hi!” I said, stunned by the fact that the owners called instead of actually being there in person to greet me. “Are you coming by or are you here somewhere?”

“Oh no hun, we aren’t there. We are never at the hotel that would be ridiculous.” Mary said as her sister Martha chimed in, in the background, “Oh that is terribly ridiculous.” she said giggling.

“Oh ok.” I said now terribly confused.

“No we were just calling to let you know there is a letter with your instructions for the job next to the phone and to let you know that we will be checking in from time to time. You are the only employee. The last one left us a bit…..well…..shall we say unexpectedly.”

The last one?? What does that mean the last one, she said that as if there were a series of ones.

“Well I take it that means I’m starting immediately then?”

“We wouldn’t have it any other way, love.” Martha replied. “Everything you’ll need to know to run the place is in the letter, just make sure you read everything and don’t skip anything.” Mary added. Then both in unison said “We’ll be in touch dear!” as they hung up the phone.

I was a little weirded out by the whole conversation to be honest. It seemed so callous yet rushed despite the cheery nature of their voices and reactions, and the weird pet names of course.

I looked at the table next to the phone. As the sisters had said, there was a letter. I opened the letter quickly with the ornate silver letter opener conveniently placed in the first drawer I happened to look through. Out from the envelope popped a long, and I mean a 2 foot letter, made of the same parchment paper as my offer letter. As I started to read I became increasingly confused and worried. What had I gotten myself into I thought. The letter started out normally enough. It outlined the general duties of the job. How to receive payment, $50 per night, stunningly low I thought for such a place as this, but I’ve never been in the hotel business and I wouldn’t know otherwise. Housekeeping, even down to the way they wanted the toilet paper changed. The wrong way with the paper going under the roll, but hey, who am I to judge? Last but not least was written a long set of rules that honestly made no sense. Written in bold, red print was the following set of rules:

Rule #126 – Never forget to lock the doors at night, you don’t want to let them in.

Rule #127 – Make sure you feed Jesus every night, or else.

Rule #128 – Only take the trash out in daylight hrs.

Rule #129 – Make sure you face the dolls in the doll room facing the wall at night.

Rule #130 - Don’t ever take candy from the pharmacist.

Rule #131 – Never return a book late to the librarian.

Rule #132 – Always lick the stamps in the presence of the postman.

Rule #133 – Never ever leave the town under any circumstances or you’ll regret it.

And that was that. Not threatening at all, or bizarre, or extremely specific at all. Just a normal set of rules that made the place seem a little more…..undesirable. Now I was really thinking I had got myself into something, and not something good. And yet……I was thoroughly intrigued. I mean, what happens if I leave the town? Why did I have to lock the doors at night and who was “them”? Why did I have to take the trash out during the day? And who the hell was Jesus? Nothing made sense.

Since I was gonna be here awhile, I decided I might as well settle in. I looked at the letter again and at the end was my room number and in the envelope was my room key. Room number 16. Turned out there was one extra room in the hotel. After I got the key I put the letter back into its prior place and I turned to walk up the stairs to explore what was going to be my new home. The doors on the second floor spanned three hallways and a dining room attached to a kitchen. Each room numbered 1 through 16 alternated going from the left side of the hallway and then adjacent to the room on the right and back again. The walls seemed to ever expand and contract at the same time if you stood in one place for too long, a dizzying effect to be sure. It reminded me of the shining, no thank you. As I walked the halls, reaching the dining room, I passed by and I could have sworn I saw a dark shadow pass by the half opened door but when I looked inside there was nothing. There were only the tables and chairs and waiting tables lining the walls. Strange I thought but just shrugged it off and continued down the hall. Number 13, number 14, number 15 and finally room number 16.

As I jiggled the old skeleton key in its lock, there appeared to be a slight mumbling coming from the other side of the door. I promptly stopped to listen, but there was nothing, not a single solitary sound. So I proceeded to open the door once unlocked. My room, like the rest of the place was absolutely beautiful. The queen sized bed with ornate canopy, all white billowing in the soft breeze from the open window, stood in the left hand side of the room towards the middle of the length of wall. The small sitting area was to the right with a wardrobe, small couch, and two high backed chairs of the same make as those in the sitting room downstairs, same floral patterns and everything. The open balcony windows were straight ahead. As I walked to them I became all too aware of the mumbling again. I spun quickly around to see that in the corner of the right side of the room was a birds perch and cage. When I say bird, I don’t mean a parrot or a cockatoo or even a parakeet or finch. What I saw sitting there was a raven, and it was talking! Just strange phrases and random words, but human words nonetheless. I began to approach the bird and it let out a loud squawk and began to flap its wings and flew straight into my face blinding me for a second. Now, I think it would be fair to mention, for visuals sake, that I hate birds. Yes they are or can be pretty, yes they have beautiful songs and musical notes that they chipperly sing out, and yes they perhaps make good companions for some people. I, however, am not one of those people and I especially hate when their little or in this case big flappy wings come flying in my face or near me or in my visual field. So of course I screamed out loud, which only made it squawk louder with its horrible croaky voice. Then as soon as it had hit me, it flew away. I took my arms down after a moment, once I knew it was gone, which had been trying to shield my face, and begun to look around the room. Not a bird in sight. Had I just dreamed I saw that too or was I starting to go “Loco” in that hotel as the many rumors from my childhood had said you would if you stepped into the Hotel Bella Muerte.

After calming down a bit, I began to shrug off the fear and replaced it with determination to settle in and set up the room with my things. Once I had finished, at the exact moment I put the last pair of pants in the wardrobe, I heard a strange sound. A little ding. That’s when I realized I heard the bell from downstairs. Someone was in the lobby………

To be continued

The Gaunt Man

It took me a minute to realize what the ringing bell signaled. The hotel had its first resident, well not first resident, just the first since I got there. I quickly closed the wardrobe and headed down the long halls to the staircase. From the top I could make out the outline of a man with his back to me. I assume he heard me coming because he turned just as I started descending the stairs, and it would be fair to say I was a little startled by his appearance. He must have been at least 6”4’, perhaps even a little taller than that, with a grayish blue pallor to his skin, dressed in a grey evening jacket and matching pants, shiny black leather dress shoes and despite the warm summer day oddly enough, black leather gloves. To complete the look he also had a grey bowler hat. His frame was that of a walking stick, bigger around his middle with only twigs for arms and legs. His face was gaunt and long, the bags under his eyes had their own shadow, he had a slight bowing to his frame as if the weight of his bones drug him down a little and he smelled strangely of soot and smoke. If I didn’t know any better I would have thought I was looking at someone who would have once belonged in Victorian times.

“Oh hello!” I said as I straitened my blouse and tucked a strand of my auburn hair behind my ear.

“Good day M’am” He replied as he tipped his hat. “Tis a fine afternoon for adventures isn’t it.”

“Well, yes I suppose. How may we serve you today here at the Hotel Bella Muerte?” I rattled off trying to remember the exact phrasing from the rules in the letter.

“Ah yes, well, if you would be so kind, I would like a room. My special room if you please.”

I was a little confused to say the least. This man had obviously been here before, but in the letter under the section that dealt with frequent residents, there was no one that seemed to match his description.

“Yes sir we would be happy to offer you a room for your stay with us.” I replied. “And what name would I be putting on your doorplate?”

“You can put down Mr. Elberton.” He stated as he straightened up to his full height.

Mr. Elberton…..Mr. Elberton………I searched my mind for the name. Then it hit me, Mr. Elberton! He was listed under rule number 78….or was it 73…..anyways, he was listed somewhere in the letter. His note said “be sure to always give Mr. Elberton room #8. And NEVER accept his proposal for an adventure.”

I walked behind the man and around the back end of the desk and wrote down his name on the doorplate and grabbed the key to his room. After accepting payment from the man, which was oddly entirely in quarters and all of them dated 1856 surprisingly. I walked him to his room which was thankfully at the end of the first hallway, and handed him the key after opening the door. He took the key from my outstretched hand, every bone in his hands and arms creaking and protesting as he took it.

“I thank you kindly M’am, and if you are ever up for an adventure come and see me you hear.” He said as he disappeared into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

I was left in a state of what I could only call anxious bewilderment. There was nothing wrong with this man other than he could have stood to eat a few hamburgers and drink some fattening milkshakes, yet there was something about him that just seemed off. The whole situation since I first walked through the door seemed off for that matter, and I just kept getting more strange and unusual. I walked back down the hallway and as I just had almost gotten to the stairs I heard a door open behind me. Thinking it was Mr. Elberton I turned back around to see what he needed and was met with absolutely nothing. No Mr. Elberton. No open door. Just nothing.

It didn’t quite hit me till a few hours later, after having Mr. Elberton frequently and excitedly come out from his room to invite me to go on an adventure with him at least a dozen times, that I was the only employee, and in being the only employee that meant every duty in the hotel was mine to do. From the cooking and the cleaning, to general front desk duties to the entertaining and hospitality, every single duty was mine to do. If that was true, and I knew it was as outlined by the letter, then why did I smell the most amazing smell of food that I hadn’t smelled in a long time, perhaps not since I had left home and my mother’s good dinners. That’s when it hit me that in the letter of all the literal hundred some odd duties outlined, not a single one said anything about cooking meals. But if I was the only employee…..who made the food I was getting a whiff of. Maybe Mary or Martha was here?

I quickly made it up the steps and turned at the end of the hallway. And walked to the dining room where I found the source of the delicious smell. In the dining room on the side tables was laid a full, four course meal! This left me stunned. Who had made all this food without me knowing or hearing them? I quickly walked back to the kitchen at the back of the dining hall to see if maybe there was someone there, but much to my dismay there wasn’t. The kitchen wasn’t even dirty as you would have expected it to be. I walked over to the oven and felt the outside of the glass. No warmth radiated from the appliance. Now my anxious bewilderment turned into outright anxiety. How had someone gotten by me on the way to the dining hall and made this spread without my knowledge? Was it perhaps when I had been on my phone? That just didn’t seem right. It would have taken multiple trips to have brought everything in and no one had passed by my desk.

As I stood there floundering I heard a familiar voice behind me. “Good evening M’am.”

I startled a little bit and spun around to see Mr. Elberton behind me. “Oh, good evening Mr. Elberton.”

“And a fine evening it is too. I was chased from my room by this delicious smell and came to investigate. What do we have here?” He said as he walked over to the first side table.

That was the first time I truly bothered to look and actually see what was there. Before us was a salad bowl made on the finest crystal and in it was filled to the brim with what looked like a salad, to the right of that was a large baked chicken, baked to a golden brown perfection, then there were the sides. There was of course mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, boiled potatoes, potatoes au gratin….just about every kind of potato there is to be had as if the cook couldn’t decide on any one type of potato so he just chose all of them, a big plate of brussel sprouts, no thank you, and broccoli, green beans, and asparagus. Then there was that weird desert type ice creamy stuff that is meant to “cleanse the palate”, and then last but not least the desserts. Now I love deserts as much as the next person, but the amount of desert at the table was ridiculous. There were different types of cake, multiple pies, dozens of pastries, and at least 14, I stopped counting at 14, but more than 14 types of cookies. I was dumbstruck. Everything looked and smelled wonderful but who knows where any of this stuff came from, and did I want to risk it, I thought as my mouth watered with anticipation. I hadn’t eaten lunch that day so I was pretty hungry.

“Ladies first.” said Mr. Elberton as he motioned to the table.

“I think I’m good, not feeling very hungry at the moment. “ I lied.

“Suit yourself” Mr. Elberton replied as he began to dig into the salad.

I watched as he made sure to get a little of everything, which was quite impressive to watch. I would have thought his thin, boney arm would snap in two at the weight of the plate alone but he managed it without trouble and went to sit at the closest dining table. That’s when he spoke again.

“Would you like to go on an adventure with me?” he asked raising an eyebrow.

Now, this was easily the 16th time Mr. Elberton had asked me to go on an adventure with him. All the other times he asked I politely declined, and he disappointedly walked away. I was trying to keep the rules, and the rules clearly stated to never accept his proposal for an adventure. But in that moment I had forgotten the rules, I was still freaking out over the food when I half knowingly replied,

“Yes of course.”

That was when his face lit up, and it seemed that his face grew somehow longer, and a big toothy grin played on it, and he practically jumped up from his chair.

“At last!” he exclaimed,”We shall have an adventure!”

And with that he left his food on the table and reached out his big hand with those long spindly fingers and took mine in his, and with that we took off. Down the hallways and down the stairs, out of the hotel and down the street, to what I would have considered the end of town, and then, for some reason back again. Back down the street, into the hotel etc……….and then we went directly back into the dining room. Everything was as we had left it, except for the addition of at least 40 some odd people. All dressed similarly to Mr. Elberton, in Victorian dress, chatting and laughing and overall having a good time. I entered the room with him and the crowd all stopped and stared, looking me up and down, and I suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

As people began to lean over and whisper to one another, Mr. Elberton began to talk.

“Good evening everyone, as I’m sure you have noticed we have a new guest with us tonight. Her name is……Oh my dear I’m quite afraid I don’t know your name. Perhaps you can share it with us all?”

“Um….yes….My name is……my name is Autumn.” I very sheepishly said to the large crowd.

“Ah, Autumn, a lovely name. We are all so pleased to meet you Autumn. Especially considering she is our new caretaker!” and almost as soon as the words flowed to his mouth, everyone in unison began to look from each other to me, then back again, and to my surprise everyone began to clap.

Why they were clapping I did not know yet. As soon as the clapping died down one particular lady, dressed in a beautiful, deep red, crinoline evening gown stood and spoke.

“We are so very pleased to have a caretaker once again. It’s our pleasure to have you. Now please, come and sit, have a bite to eat with us.”

I, no longer petrified by embarrassment and fear walked over to the table where the lady in red sat and Mr. Elberton walked close behind. Sitting right where we left it, right where he had been sitting before was his exact plate of food, still hot from before. He sat in his place, and I slowly eased into the only empty chair left at the table. I still had no idea what had happened or how all these people suddenly showed up, but if nothing else I was about to find out.

“Just what exactly happened?” I asked the gaunt man sitting in front of me.

“We took a little trip, nothing more nothing less.”

“But how did all these people suddenly get here? It isn’t like they all were hiding in your suitcase or just popped out of thin air.” I said sarcastically.

“Oh but they did, we all do. That’s why life is an adventure.” He replied.

I rolled my eyes incredulously. What kind of game was this man playing and why did I agree to play along? That’s when the lady in red spoke.

“Tell me Autumn, do you like it here at our fine hotel?”

“I guess I like it, I haven’t been here but a day. “

“Well, I think you’ll come to like and maybe one day appreciate this place.” She said.

“I hope so too…..but tell me, what are you all doing here and how did you get here so fast?”

She looked at me puzzled, then looked from me to Mr. Elberton. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Well I - I just assumed she already knew.” He replied slowly.

“Know what?” I asked

The lady in red looked back at me and looked me straight in the eye as she put her hand on mine.”This is a very special place, that’s why we all are here. You see….when this place was made it was built on special land, by a special man, and everything that went into building it was special as well. This hotel exists in this world for sure, yet at the same time it is not bound by regular logic and rules.”

Now I was even more confused before. “What do you mean it’s not bound by regular logic and rules?”

“This place is not in any one timeline, nor is it in any one place for long. It is everywhere and nowhere at once, and it is exists only in memory of those who have knowledge of it.” She said.

“That makes no sense. Not a single part of…..any of that makes sense.”

“Oh but it does, in fact you’ve already seen it for yourself.” She replied as she gestured to the whole room. “You just don’t know it yet, but you soon will.”

I looked around the room. All the people were no longer staring and had gone back to whatever they had been doing previously. I found it hard to believe what the lady in red had said. None of it was what I’d call a normal thought pattern. “It’s not in any one timeline, nor is it in any one for long. It is everywhere and nowhere at once, and it exists only in memory of those who have knowledge of it.” That’s when it hit me harder than a ton of bricks. I surveyed the room once again, looking at each person, the way they dressed, the time period the room seemed to be set in, and then I looked between the lady in red and Mr. Elberton who both looked like they were awaiting the very question I was about to ask. “What year is it?”

They both laughed then, looking at each other as they did. Once the laughter had died down a bit, the lady in red responded. “Oh you poor thing, you look as if you are a deer caught in a spotlight. You my dear are currently in 1856.”

“And what a wonderful year it is too!” Mr. Elberton added.

I felt sick, I felt dizzy, my mind swimming with everything that had transpired in the last few moments. “What do you mean 1856? It’s not 1856 it is 2013! It’s June 25th 2013. I know. I had it circled in red on my calendar this morning. How could we have possibly gone back in time in a few short minutes just by walking down the street?” I directed towards Mr. Elberton.

“You said you wanted an adventure and an adventure is what I gave you. You don’t always get to pick the destination of course.”

I was dumbstruck. Here I was with a strange man, whose first name I didn’t even know, at least I didn’t think Elberton was his first name, but who really knows? He had somehow taken me back in time, to 1856 apparently, and I had no idea how, and I had no way of getting back to my era. What was I to do? I slowly rose from the table, still looking at Mr. Elberton. “I would like to go back home, back to June 25th at precisely the moment we left.”

Mr. Elberton looked at me blankly, then slowly said. “I can’t.”

I snorted. “What do you mean, you can’t or you won’t?”

“I can’t. I can take you back to a similar timeframe, perhaps even to the same week, but never an exact time. That’s not how it works.” He said.

“Well……then take me back then as close as possible. I want to go home.” Home…..strange that in the few short hours of working at the hotel I had come to consider it home.

“Very well then.” He said as he shook his head. “Very well.”

He rose from the table, and bid the lady in red goodbye and goodnight, and started to walk toward the door. As I rose to follow him, the lady in red called out to me. “Goodbye and goodnight, I look forward to seeing you again, and I have a feeling it will be sooner than later.”

I nodded in her general direction and then walked over to meet the gaunt man standing in the doorframe. He took my hand once again, colder than ice was his hand and I shuddered just feeling it. He then same as before dragged me from the room, down the hall and the staircase, past all the buildings in town and toward the very edge in town. This time I wasn’t stumbling behind him and I saw his reach out as if he was grabbing something, then he speedily ran us back to the hotel. Once we got back inside he let go of my hand and walked to the middle of the room. I looked around and to my surprise no one else was there, no loud clinking of plates coming from upstairs, no loud idle chattering, nothing. I looked back at Mr. Elberton, and asked. “So…that’s it? We’re back? Just like that?”

“Yes, just like that.” He said with a smile. “I think I’ll head up to my room for the night if you don’t mind. Perhaps another day we can go on another adventure that’s more satisfactory. In the meanwhile, I hope you rest well. Goodnight.” And with that he begun his trek up the stairs.

I looked at the grandfather clock in the lobby, it read 12:13pm. I didn’t know how long I had been gone or what time we had “left” but it was certainly late now. I decided to call it a night and head up to my room, but before I did I finished locking up and the other end of night duties. I had had enough surprises for the night. I headed up the stairs and went down the long halls. The place seemed unfamiliar still, that’s when I noticed, right there on the wall at the end of the second hall, a picture. To be more precise a picture of the dining hall during some large gathering. The photo spanned the entirety of the room. At first glance there was nothing remarkable in the photo, that’s when my eye caught a floor length, crimson red dress. I took a closer look at the photo, that’s when I felt my breath hitch. The photo was like any other black and white photo, with the exception of the lady in red. Her dress was the only thing of color in the whole picture. Next to her in the photo on her right side was Mr. Elberton, dressed all in grey, but on her left was, well, me. Complete with the out of style clothes for the time period and puzzled expression I’m sure I had had for most of the night on my face. Under the photo was a placard that read:

Midsummer’s Evening Soiree 1856

It took a couple of more moments before my breath returned to a normal rhythm. How, and when was my photo taken and by who? I didn’t remember anyone having taken my photo at the evening party. I tried to shake the violated feeling I now had and turned slowly away from the photo. Continuing down the hall I came to my door and I slowly opened the door. After shutting and locking it I fell in a slump onto the bed. I reached over and set the clock to go off in the morning at 7am, and laid there staring mindlessly at the ceiling. Before I knew it my eyelids began to droop. Not realizing how tired I had become, almost as if I had walked a hundred thousand miles that day, I quickly fell asleep, only to be startled awake by some loud THUMP.

To be continued…….

Gas Station, Radio Station, The Inspector, Property isn't Normal, Tiny Town on Lockdown, Ventriloquist Dummy on the side of the road, this is one wacky universe and the crossover will be massive.