Run Away With Rochelle

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Wannabe comedian Robert Riverview, dissapointed by his latest failure, travels home, and stumbles apon one of the largest and most deadly ghost mysteries of all time...

Submitted: October 10, 2010

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Submitted: October 10, 2010

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“So…What do you think?”
The board of producers was staring blank eyed at the now completely black television screen. They have spent the last few minutes watching the first episode of comedian Robert Francois Riverview’s brand new television show. Robert had been the last to speak. He had a long brown ‘80’s mullet and a small short beard on his chin. He had the world’s largest grin, and he always appeared to be happy. That’s a comedian’s job.
“That was some crazy crap we’ve just seen.” One of the producers commented rather rudely.
“Is that a good thing?” Robert asked optimistically.
“NO!” the same man said, annoyed. Robert recoiled with shock.
“This is the worst idea we’ve ever seen for a T.V. show!” a woman exaggerated. Robert was bewildered. He thought it was a great idea.
“It’s a great idea!” Robert said. “Seriously, there were some ridiculous situations there.”
“They were talking rubbish!” The man who spoke before said. “They were speaking out of place.”
“Exactly!” Robert replied. “Who would imagine…” he pressed the play button, “Spartans talking about marriage while they were fighting? It’s ridiculous!”
On the screen, one Spartan was talking to another.
“What’s up?” The one on the left asked the other.
“I’m depressed.” The one on the right replied.
“Why?”
A random Persian man with a sword ran toward the Spartan. The Spartan stabbed him, and kept on talking.
“My wife ran away with another guy.”
“Really? Who?”
Another Persian ran up, and was stabbed.
“Him.” *canned laughter*
“Stop the tape.” One of the producers said.
Reluctantly, Robert obeyed, and pressed the stop button.
“Look.” The board leader said. “We’re not Nickelodeon or Disney Channel. We’re the Comedy Channel. We’re serious about funniness. We hired you to make a proper T.V. show, like Seinfeld. Not a show that reminds us of ‘Meet the Spartans’.”
“But...” Robert started.
“NO.” The producers said. “You’re off the job. Go to Nickelodeon with the idea. We will not accept this Mr. Riverview.”
Robert sighed. He nodded, grabbed his stuff, took the CD out of the player, and left.
He drove his car out of the parking lot, and down the road. He had traveled very far, from Washington to California, to propose this idea. He was there for a day, rejected, and sent back. He decided to start driving back home.
He drove his car for a long ten hours, stopping at various run down motels, until he saw a house. It was a decent house, small and made with wood and bricks. There was a sign out front that said, ‘Bob and Belinda Benediel’s Bed and Breakfast.’ It was small, but it looked like it had quite a reputation. There was a bar right next door, and there were several cars parked in front. He drove in and parked his car.
Inside, it felt warm and cozy. It was wintertime, and it rained quite a lot if it wasn’t snowing, so he felt happy in the warmth. He looked forward and saw a small old lady, with a generous smile.
“Hello there, sweetie!” The old lady said. She reminded Robert of his grandmother, except not quite as dead.
“Hi,” Robert said, “Are there any rooms available?”
“Why, yes!” She said. She grabbed a key, “How many people?”
“Just me.” Robert said.
“Single, eh?” She asked. “Well, there are plenty of people to meet in the pub. They all stay here, just like a college dormitory again.” She handed him the key.
“Thanks!” Robert said. He walked out, through the now pouring rain to the next door pub.
Inside, the pub was also warm and cozy, but there was a smell of liquor lingering about. Robert didn’t mind the smell. He sat on a chair, and the barman acknowledged him with a nod. He was around the same age as the old lady. Perhaps they were married, or related.
“I’ll have a beer, thanks.” Robert ordered. He looked at the menu. “Also a Medium Rare Steak with fries, please.”
“Coming right up.” The old man said. He had a very low bass voice, but it was cheery, something like the ideal image of Santa Clause. He looked around and saw a young woman dressed in a denim vest, her hair done in an 80’s style, smiling at him. He casually waved back, and she got up and walked toward him.
“Have I seen you from somewhere?” She asked.
“Yes,” Robert replied. “I’m Robert Riverview. I’m the host of that kid’s show.”
“Rob and Rachel’s Play Time?” She asked. Robert nodded. “I love that show! My kids watch it all the time.”
“Really?” Robert replied, “You look a bit young to be married.”
“Well, I’m not married.” The woman admitted, “Just made a mistake when I was fifteen. Still, I didn’t want to abort, so I kept them. They’re the world’s most beautiful twins. Anyway, my name’s Rochelle.”
“Nice to meet you.” Robert said cheerily, shaking her hand. Her hands were soft, giving him a strange sensation in the stomach.
“So, are you, like, dating Rachel, from the show?” Rochelle asked.
“Oh, no, we just work together.” Robert replied. The old man came back with a cup of beer and a nice medium rare steak. He started to eat. The tender juicy meat filled his mouth, giving him a great sensation.
“What’re you doing tonight then?”
“Me?” Robert asked with his mouth full. He swallowed. “Nothing, just go to bed, you know.”
“You know, the rooms here are pretty nice. I heard that in the rooms, they have hot tubs…”
“No, thank you.” Robert said. He quickly paid his bill, and took his plates out to eat somewhere else.
“Are you sure?”
“Quite sure!” He said, as he went out the door.
He rushed up to his room and locked the door. She was right though. There was a nice king-size double bed with a hand-made quilt on top. The pillows were brightly colored, and smack in the middle of the middle of the room was a warm hot tub, with bubbles and steam flowing out of the tub.
“This is the weirdest bed-and-breakfast I’ve ever been to.” He said to himself. He walked toward a table, put down his plates and started to eat again. The steak, no matter how good it tasted in the bar, seemed to taste even better here.
“This is one weird room.” He said. His mouth was full with the best flavor he had ever tasted. His mouth was full with the rich, creamy taste of the steak. He bit down, and tasted something a bit more juicy than usual.
He looked down at his plate, and leaking from the medium-rare steak was a puddle of red liquid, that was slowly expanding. He dipped his finger into it, and licked it, expecting it to be a bit of hot fat or juice.
“Yuck!” He spat, trying to get the sinister metal taste of blood out of his mouth. He looked again. The blood was leaking from the meat like a tap accidentally left on. As if the cow the steak was from was still alive, its heart still beating.
As he thought the word ‘heart’ his own heart started to beat rapidly, steadily increasing in pace. He looked around. The hot tub was no longer a comfortable warm, but the water was boiling, and steam was pouring into the room, overpowering the air-conditioning and the cold winter outside. The blood flowing from the steak had overflowed from the plate, smothered the French fries, and was starting to drip down onto the floor. Robert’s heart was pacing and he started to pace around. He went into the shower room, and tried to cool down. But out from the shower came not cold water, but a green slimy substance that felt like the algae that floated on top of the water of dirty lakes and rivers.
“What is this place?!” Robert cried.
There was a knock on the door. Heavy breathing from the other side of the door made Robert feel even more uncomfortable. The knock on the door was very heavy, as if a Rhino of some sort was trying to crash into the room without invitation. The room was reaching an unbearable temperature. The blood on the floor, still growing bigger by the second, was also boiling hot. Robert tried to wipe off the slimy green substance, and put back on his clothes. The metal belt buckle burned his hand when he grabbed it, causing him to yelp and drop it. With much reluctance, he reached for the door, and opened it. Standing on the other side was…
Rochelle.
“How do you like your room?” She said with a sinister smile. She drew a knife, and raised it up in the air like Norman Bates.
“NO!” Robert yelled. He tackled the pretty psycho, and got up, bolting for the exit. Reaching the cold outside, he ran for his car. He flung the door open, grabbed the keys, started the engine, and drove off without hesitation. The car drove off smoothly, leaving the freaky bed-and-breakfast behind. He kept on driving for what seemed to be days, but the sun didn’t seem to move in the sky. It was stuck half in, half out, on the west. It was stuck in sunrise. He looked around. All he could see was snow. He may as well be going around in circles and circles. He felt like he was stuck in an infinite vertex. He drove, and drove, and drove. Finally he was too tired. He needed to find a hotel. Even after that ghastly experience, at the last hotel. He drove, and drove, and drove, always looking. The sun still didn’t seem to be moving. He soon realized that he mustn’t be moving. There was no other explanation. It may as well have been that someone out there pressed a pause button, and his car with the landscape was frozen in time. The engine, he realized, wasn’t even running properly. And north, he saw a coming blizzard, which was slowly blocking out the sun. He ran out, and looked at the engine. He touched the engine, risking another hand burn. It was frozen solid. The cold ran up his fingers, and gave him an incredible headache. He tried to pull away. But he couldn’t. He looked at his hands, and saw that it was still green with the algae. The algae must have frozen his hand onto the freezing engine. He pulled harder. His hand didn’t budge. He pulled even harder. His hand stung, still frozen onto the engine. His mind raced for something to do.
He had a pocket knife in the glove box.
His hand was frozen to the engine, he couldn’t reach the door, but he could, however, reach the glove box if he pulled the hood down, broke the windscreen, and reached down. But the only real problem is that if he broke the windscreen, and he drove off. He would drive into the blizzard, and freeze to death, or at least suffer frostbite.
His other option was to put a warm object onto the hand to thaw the frost. He was freezing himself, and he had no hot water, so he could do only one thing.
“There’s nothing else to do.” He said to himself.
He washed his hands after the not so grand way of setting himself free. He finally got the car started, put the heating on full throttle, and started to speed off.
This time, the landscape started to change. There was no longer a blizzard cloud and the sunset was bright and beautiful, not dull and unchanging. He found himself closer to home than he thought, for he soon passed a sign that said “Welcome to Washington.” He sped off through the familiar snowy landscape, to his apartment complex. He stopped driving, and went into his small apartment.
He went to his laptop, and still bewildered by the event, and feeling slightly tired, he went to his computer, and launched his internet using Google.
“What were their names?” He wondered to himself. Suddenly, he remembered. He typed in “Bob and Belinda Benediel.” He saw nothing much to look at, but as he scrolled down, he found an online newspaper article for a small Oregon news company. He clicked it.
This is what showed up:
“Tragic Death of Beloved Innkeepers
“Just yesterday, on May 17, 1995, the owners of the beloved roadside bed-and-breakfast, where everyone comes to eat the delicious medium rare beef steaks, have been found murdered in their luxury bedroom, where they slept every night after looking after their customers.
“Bob and Belinda were famous of their small bed-and-breakfast, which satisfied all the needs of the customers, who usually came during wintertime.
“’The hot tubs were the main feature to their lovely home, which they had visitors almost every day.’ Said one fan as they mourned the elderly couple.
“The murderer is not yet known, but he or she used a kitchen knife, the same one which cut the beef to be prepared, and stabbed both of them viciously as they slept. They were later found without muscle on their arms and legs. Nobody knows the murderer’s intentions, but the Prime Suspect is a young brunette, possibly a harlot, who wears a denim vest and jeans. If anyone sees a person to match that description, please report to the police.
“May Richards, May 18, 1995”
He found a link at the bottom to another similar article by the same newspaper. This is what it said:


“Local Harlot Found Dead
“A few days ago, an anonymous passerby reported seeing a dead body in the alleyway. The woman, who was a brunette, wearing a denim vest and jeans, matches the description to the Prime Suspect of the murder of Bob and Belinda Benediel, which happened exactly two weeks ago. She has been identified as Rochelle Anderson. She has thought to have committed suicide a few days after committing the murder, and was found four days after that.”
He scrolled down, and found a picture of the body. She was the exact person he saw at the bar. Had he seen a ghost? He wasn’t sure, but he wanted to find out. He looked up on the internet “Benediel Bed-and-Breakfast ghosts”, and was surprised with the results.
There were over a million reports of sighting the elderly couple, the murderer, or both. They seemed to always be living out their lives when they were sighted. They didn’t realize that they were dead, but accompanying the ghosts were such strange happenings, like the blood in the steak, or the steaming hot tub, even the algae was reported, but most say that was because the water hasn’t been on for years. He kept on searching, and all were the same, but there were no reports of an attempted homicide against the commenters. He couldn’t find one anywhere. He kept searching. There were no reports on anyone being killed, or running away from, the woman with the knife. Was he the only one? Was he more special?
Ding Dong.
He walked over toward the door, and looked through the small looking window in his door.
It was Rochelle.
“Why did you run away?”
She drew the knife and stabbed at the door.
From that day on, Robert never was a part of the show. It was only ‘Rachel’s Playhouse’. If any fans ever asked “Where did Robert go?” they were met with this answer.
“He ran away with Rochelle.”


© Copyright 2019 Samuentaga. All rights reserved.

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