Hope

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Contently Deranged Travelers
There is always Hope.

Submitted: March 14, 2016

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Submitted: March 14, 2016

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Hope

Robert Kasch - 2016

 

I have been in the crumbling three story boarding house for three years and am giving up all hope of a normal life. The place is grey and dismal causing bouts of depression and thoughts of doing harm to myself.

 The first owner, Jason Wilde, had named the horrid place The Hope Hotel in the late 1800s. Wilde was a man of means and opposed to alcohol and intent on reforming the many drunks that roamed the back alleys of Grist Mill Kansas at the time. Rather than reform the men he simply provided a diseased filled flop house.

So it is to this day. Chronic drunks and addicts of all walks haunt the rooms of Hope. In fact I believe I may be the only sober resident. And to that I may succumb to some type of drink or drug to drown out the horrors around me.

 The smell of urine and and unwashed bodies permeate the air. Even with my door closed and my burning of incense the smell is ever present. To shut out the events of last Friday is impossible. The only woman staying here, an elderly lady by the name of May, was found dead in her room. Long dead. Fast Fingers Freddie claimed a yellow oozing liquid fell from the gurney as she was hauled out. I burned coffee grounds on my hot plate that night and opened wide my window. The stink.

Falling asleep the night of May’s death I woke to the sounds of a frantic bird. A large crow had come in my open window and in a panic was crashing into the plaster walls leaving splotches of blood with each hit. Finally I caught the creature in a pillowcase and took it to the window sill. It stood there and looked at me for the longest before falling dead on the alley way below.

Several days later I was writing my sister for another loan when I heard the frantic knocking at my door. Having no peephole I engaged the door chain and opened the allowed three inches. Pepper Jack was leaning against the wall, tears running down his cheeks. “ Sam,” he sputtered and began to cry out loud, “ we’re all going to die. J.J. is dead in my room. J.J. man.”

Pepper Jack and J.J. were both heroin addicts. J.J. had looked like death the entire time I knew him. “ Pepper,” I said trying to unchain the door, “ Are you sure he’s dead? Did you call an ambulance?”

“ What? No man, I’m holding. His ears fell off. Fingers too. Man what should I do?”

“ Hide your stuff and call the ambulance. What do you mean his ears fell off?”

“ Fingers too. Hell. Just stared at me and started falling apart man. I think his nose was coming loose.”

 “ I walked out into the hall and started for Pepper’s room. I was sure he was tripping. J.J. was probably passed out. Maybe dead but…”

Things were going so crazy. So fast. Everything seemed dimmed and unreal.

Entering Pepper’s room I was unlucky enough to see J.J.’s nose plop onto the floor. Turning to run out I saw Pepper sitting against the wall just staring at the opposite wall. I started to tell him to get up when I noticed his eye sockets were empty and black. Flies buzzed in and out of his mouth and ears. I think I screamed then but there was no sound. I ran for the stairwell and hoped to find a sane person outside.

It had been so long since I had last been outside. I hit the front door and was shocked the doorknob was missing. The ornate glass at the top of the door was broken and yet no light came through. I pushed against the door to no good end.

For my efforts I had a dislocated shoulder and nothing more. I ran from hallway to hallway and had to watch each step as to not trip on the lifeless bodies littered in every corner of Hope.

Reaching my room I ran in and slammed the door. Looking at my writing desk I stared at the unfinished letter to my sister. Above me sounds of earth hitting a coffin were deafening and telling. There was no light coming into the window. I fumbled for the light switch only to find there was none. The thudding noises above me grew distant.

eNd

 

 


© Copyright 2017 Robert Kasch. All rights reserved.

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