The Visit

Heavy drops of rain struck the windows of the black Mercedes. The tiny, wet, pellets hit with such force that the passenger was nearly certain that some malevolent force trying to smash through the glass. The driver paid it no heed. He just carefully steered his way through the dilapidated trail. He had made the trip many times before, it’s possible he could have made the trip on autopilot. Not that he ever would. No there was no force on earth that could force the driver to take his eyes from this road, not for any longer than the time it took to blink.

Night closed around the car. The shroud it cast so vast, so bleak, it made the black of the Mercedes appear bright by comparison. The passenger shuffled restlessly in the back seat. The only sound he had heard for the last twenty minutes had been the smashing of raindrops on glass. That and the ever-present grinding of the tyres on the gravel track. Desiring a way to distract himself, the passenger set about smoothing some of the fresh wrinkles in his otherwise neatly pressed suit. He was a stark contrast to the jumper and jeans of his taxi driver. Beside the passenger sat his briefcase, the bright blue eyes of the passenger never truly leaving the item.

The man, Charles, had spent his entire Friday making his way through the country, first a plane from London, then a train out to the remotte village he was now leaving behind. The purpose of his journey was to try out a remote Gothic hotel in the wilds of Northern Scotland, which presumably the company was considering acquiring. Suddenly, the taxi ground to a halt. The deceleration was so rapid it forced Charles to grab onto a hand holder to remain in his seat.

“I go no further.” It was the first words the driver had spoken since he had picked up Charles from the train station, despite his passenger’s best attempts at small talk.

“What do you mean you won’t go any further? The hotel’s not even in sight yet!” Charles tried his best not to yell, but after a day of difficult travel his mood was far too dark to be dealing some attempt at a rate hike.

“House is just around the next bend, you pay now.” The driver’s deep voice punctuated his simple speech. Charles gaped at the man, as he stroked a scar on his forehead, staring into the darkness in front.

“If you won’t take me the whole way I won’t give you a penny.”

“Then you will have to find some other fool willing to come and take you from that place.”

“A risk I am willing to take!” Charles said as he threw the door open before the driver could lock them and insist upon payment. Charles quickly fished his umbrella from his briefcase and had it deployed before he was even upright. For a moment he considered not closing the door he had just vacated from in an attempt to force the driver to brave the weather. But he decided the loss of the fare was punishment enough.

As soon as the door was closed the car started to reverse down the road, its dark colour quickly swallowed by the night. The last Charles saw of the driver was his face illuminated by a newly-lit cigarette. His eyes were not on his former passenger, but out into the darkness in front. Then all that remained was the ever-dimming light of the headlamps. Acting quickly, Charles used the last of the light to fish out his phone and switch the camera light on. Ahead of him lay a long, dismal walk he would spend the rest of his life regretting.

…

Charles let out a stream of curses as he pried open the door to the hotel. The moment the heavy, unwieldy, door was far enough ajar he attempted to dive through, eager to get out of the rain. The walk had not been a fun one. Filled with many slips on wet gravel, flat out falls in the random puddles, and dropped items in the heavy winds. It had all sapped away any energy Charles had had left. This was capped off by his phone choosing to die, just as the hotel had come into sight. That left the last ten minutes being a blind scramble towards the building.

With no light available, save for that from a couple of the rooms, Charles had not truly looked at the place he would be staying. He had not observed its dark granite spires, or its swooping arches that were peppered with spikes. Charles had also completely missed the gargoyles that loomed out of the darkness. Grotesque creatures meant to ward off evil. As such, he had not stopped to ponder why the rock features faced into the building.

However, the inside of the hotel was completely different. It looked like a normal, brightly lit, modern reception. Complete with reception desk and an annoyingly cheerful receptionist. The man watched as Charles somehow managed to jam his briefcase in the doorway in his dive inside. He also watched as the new arrival spent several minutes struggling, until his exhausted mind worked out he needed to tilt the briefcase to get through. With a slightly shaky hand, Charles slicked back his receding hair before striding confidently up to the desk.

“Charles Mason, I have a reservation for three nights.” The clerk didn’t even check the registry as he slid a key and a folder across the desk.

“Yes Mr Mason we’ve been expecting you. Please sign here.” Charles puzzled over where the receptionist’s strange accent was from as, on instinct, he took the offered pen. Tired, and on auto pilot, Charles was halfway through his signature before he realised just how far back some of the other guests had been staying. With a final flourish he completed his signature and mentioned the oddity to the receptionist. The man’s milky grey eyes scanned the folder as he took it back, taking a moment to respond.

“Oh yes sir, we tend to find here that those guests whom the hotel likes, well they tend not to leave us.” Far too tired to correct the strange man’s mess up of a sentence. Charles instead swiped his key from the desk and was halfway across the foyer towards the rooms when the receptionist’s voice called out to him. Oddly the words came through as clearly as if the clerk had been stood beside him.

“I am dreadfully sorry sir, but it would appear the previous guest in your room left quite the mess for our housekeeping. Would you mind retiring to the dining room for dinner, which will of course be complementary?”

Charles let out a loud sigh, making his discontentment well known to the receptionist. But the clerk just continued to smile, his grey eyes never leaving the newcomer. The business man didn’t bother to ask for directions. The dining room was clear to see through the large doors just to the right of the check-in desk. Keen not to seem too tired he strode through the large doors, not sparing the strange man another glance. Of course, if he had looked, Charles would have noted those strange grey eyes stayed fixed upon him.

The dining room itself was like something out of a historical movie. Its centre piece was a large banquet table, which stretched the length of the room. The walls were covered in a mossy green wallpaper. But this was mostly concealed by the numerous oil paintings that lined the walls. The paintings themselves were rather ranged. There were some truly old portraits of men and women dressed in fine garb. But there were more modern ones, their occupants wearing a range of clothes from suits to plain shirts and jeans. But it was the large fire on the opposite wall that grabbed the newcomer’s attention. He shot over to the fire place, pausing only to grab a chair so he might finally take the weight off his feet.

Charles was not sure how long he languished in front of that fire. He could feel his eyelids beginning to droop when a man and woman burst through another set of ornate doors. The business man was so enraptured with the fire, he barely paid them an initial glance. The trouble was the pair were arguing and, even in his dazed state, Charles curiosity got the best of him. Blinking repeatedly to try and jump start his mind Charles took in the two newcomers.

The man seemed to be in his mid-twenties, dressed in a white tank top and blue jeans. This simple attire was no doubt to show off the tattoos on his muscly arms, the most complicated of which was that of a series of shaded diamonds that formed a hissing snake. The woman was slightly older, probably around Charles’s age. She wore a traditional black dress, chosen to emphasise her lavishly painted long rainbow coloured nails. It took the businessman several moments to remember the hotel offered a selection of older clothing, for those wanting to fully immerse themselves in the experience.

Still not fully awake, Charles watched as the man sat down in the middle of the table that he now realised was furnished with all the necessities for an elegant dinner. His hunger overcoming his exhaustion, Charles removed himself from the fire, taking the seat opposite. The third of their group did not join them instead occupied studying all the portraits with a frenzied energy.

“Ignore her, she’s been like that all day.” The other man stated as he offered his hand and continued. “The name’s Nick.”

“Charles Rawson, a pleasure.” The businessman said shaking Nick’s hand.

“Well, aren’t you posh?” The younger man joked in a merry way, Charles got the distinct impression his new companion was already drunk. The two men chatted idly about nothing in particular. Then, the receptionist came in through as small side door, carrying an ornate container holding the soup course. He made it all of three steps before the woman gave a shriek as she pointed up to the upper right corner of one of the walls. Rounding on the receptionist, who barely had time to deposit the container on the table, the woman demanded.

“Take that portrait down, this instant.”

“I apologise madam, but I’m not authorised to touch the paintings.” The receptionist handled the crazed woman with a grace that impressed Charles, but he still felt a tinge of unease when he looked at the man.

“Well someone clearly is because that’s a different from what it was last night!”

“That might be Ma’am but, if so, what’s the harm in a different portrait?” Clearly the absurdity of being hysterical over a portrait hit the woman as, after a pause, she could only offer a meek response of.

“But it looks like Anthony.”

“Come now Mrs Burness I think this old house is starting to get to you. That painting has been in our collection for five years. Why not sit down and have a nice meal. Then straight off to bed for some well needed rest?”

Clearly mentally exhausted the woman allowed herself to be led to the table sitting several places from her companions. The five course meal that followed was mediocre at best. But, after the day Charles had had, he was just happy to have hot food. This was aided by the generous helping of wine that Nick continued to top up their glasses with, each time insisting this would be the last one.

As it was, the two drunk men never noticed Mrs Burness slip away. But the day eventually caught up with Charles. Excused himself with a few slurred words, he staggered off to bed. It was a task that was harder than it sounded, not helped by Charles having no clue where the room was. By the time the drunk, and exhausted, man had found the room in which his key worked it was all he could do to remember to remove his suit before he collapsed into the kingside bed.

.

Thump, ssshhhh. Thump, ssshhh. Thump, ssshhh.

The unsettling sound woke Charles from his sleep. The man opened his eyes to the engulfing darkness of his room, his sleepy senses already beginning to feel the mother of all headaches brewing.

Thump, ssshhhh. Thump, ssshhh. Thump, ssshhh.

It was quite far away, possibly even floors above his own but Charles could just about make out the dull reverberations. The seconds trickled by as the noise moved further away until finally, even though he was now fully awake, Charles could no longer make out the sound. Deciding that it was either the creaking of an old house, or Nick having fun trying to scare some of the other guests, Charles let out a disgruntled groan and buried his head in the pillow. He quickly accepted the welcoming embrace of sleep.

...

Pain. That, and an ever-present queasiness, were all Charles felt the following morning. It was in fact early afternoon before the tired, unsteady, man hobbled down the stairs towards the dining room. His head filled with moans about the lack of room service, and how it was something he would make sure was amended when the company bought the hotel. Staggering into the dining room, Charles had barely sat down when the receptionist from the night before appeared carrying a breakfast and a pot of coffee.

“How?” Charles croaked out the one word question, as the meal was placed in front of him.

“I noticed yours and Mr Hulme’s fun last night. I thought you would want nothing more than a large breakfast. So I had the chef put some aside for you while the other guests were served.” Charles was about to offer a grateful smile to the receptionist, when he noticed one of his hands now had bright rainbow nails not dissimilar to the woman from last night. Noticing his gaze the man smiled as he lifted the hand up and studied it. “Yes I thought they looked rather good, but now I’ve got them I’m a bit disappointed.”

Choosing to leave the man’s choice alone, Charles instead began to devour his breakfast. He took no notice as the receptionist slunk off to some place unknown. The plate was quickly emptied though the man spent longer with his pot of coffee. So long in fact that, by the time he was on to his last cup, Charles felt enough energy to move around the dining room, studying the paintings. It was shortly after this that Nick crashed into the room.

The younger man was a shadow of himself last night, his eyes were sunken from lack of sleep. His skin was clammy. A sheen of sweat clung to him suggesting he had been rushing around. Seeing Charles, Nick rushed over.

“Tell me you heard it.”

“Heard what?”

“That strange sound, that unnatural sound. Last time I thought it was just the house creaking. But there’s something here, something unnatural is stalking this place.”

“Don’t you think it’s too early for this kind of nonsense?” Charles admonished, his hangover may have been diminished, but it was not forgotten. Nick looked like he was gearing up to continue a probably alcohol-fuelled rant, when the receptionist entered carrying a similar breakfast and coffee. But the man was more concerned with the painted finger nails. With two strides, the frantic guest was before the receptionist. In an instant he grabbed the clerk’s right hand and pulled it forwards, sending the breakfast plate crashing to the ground.

“Look at these, just look at them. Do you know what this means?”

“That he likes to paint his finger nails, hardly a reason to harass the man.”

“No! You don’t understand! They’re the same as that woman from last night.” The receptionist snatched his hand back and moved over to the food congealing on the floor.

“Mr Mason would you mind terribly escorting Mr Francis back to his room? I think it best he sleep off this spell.” Nick’s gaze swapped between the disapproving glare of Charles and the back of the receptionist. With a defeated sigh the younger guest began to leave the dining room, followed by the scowling business man. The walk back was silent, as the two men wound their way through the ornate corridors. All the walls adorned by portraits as varied as those in the dining room. To Charles’s surprise Nick’s room was the one that neighboured his own.

“We’ve got to get out of here mate.” These were the first words the man had spoken since his demented tirade in the dining room. Charles took a moment to measure the man. The stench of alcohol assaulted his nostrils, but it was possible that was from the previous night’s drinks. Ultimately though he did not know Nick, and he was not about to cause trouble in a property that may very soon belong to his company.

“If this place scares you so much, leave. Let me and the other guest enjoy our weekend.” For some reason, Charles’s callous remark caused Nick to burst into hysterical laughter that it took the younger man a while to recover from. When he did, there was a crazed look in his eye.

“Other guests! What other guests, we’re the only ones here.” Then, possessed by another bout of insanity, Nick began to charge up and down the corridor slamming walls and kicking doors. The lights flickered, almost in annoyance, but the insane man continued on in his madness. Finally Nick tired himself out as, he again, stood in front of Charles. “If there was anyone else here they would be appearing right now.”

Charles waited expectantly, but no one came. He looked behind him but still no one came. The silence pressed against the businessman, smothering him, the only sound was Nick’s panting. The corridors seemed to stretch out into the distance and, in a sudden bout of queasiness and claustrophobia, forced Charles to steady himself against the wall.

“They might be out walking or in the town” Charles weakly offered.

“It’s one of the worst storms in a decade and you think they’re out walking?” It was an odd turn of events as Nick suddenly became the composed one while Charles struggled to regain his composure. “Give me your phone so I can call a taxi.”

“Why not use yours?”

“It broke on the first night.”

“Mine died on the walk here and I didn’t put it on to charge last night. What about the one on the desk?” Nick looked around nervously before he responded.

“I don’t know what’s going on here, but there’s something off about that guy. Put your phone on charge and we’ll get out here.” Before Charles could respond Nick dived into his room, the sound of scraping suggested the younger man was barricading the door. Charles felt like he was on autopilot as he entered his room. With, ever so slightly, trembling fingers he slid the chain onto the door. Moving over to his briefcase, to fish out his phone charger. With frantic movements, the businessman emptied the contents of his briefcase onto the floor and pulled his charger from the debris.

That was when the man caught a view of himself in the full length mirror. Still wearing the damp suit shirt and trousers he had been wearing last night on his hands and knees papers spread out on the floor around him. Reality hit him, it was simply some sounds in the night, a lack of guests on one floor, of one wing, of the hotel. The businessman stumbled into the bathroom and splashed some water on his face. It was a much less shaky hand that grabbed a plastic cup and helped himself to a glass of water.

The last of shakes were just beginning to leave his hand when as one the lights died. The same sickening panic gripped Charles for a moment, before his rationale mind kicked in. With a slow pace so as to not betray his worry, the business man made his way down to the reception desk. Like normal the receptionist stood behind the front desk, smiling. Lit by several brightly burning candles.

“What’s going on?” Charles asked for the moment forgetting his dishevelled state.

“I apologise Mr Mason, we appear to be suffering a blackout.” The receptionist’s smile seemed to take on a devilish quality in the candle light.

“Do you know how long it will last?” Despite his earlier confidence in rationality, Charles was unwilling to move any closer to the strange man then the foot of the stairs.

“Based on previous blackouts, I expect it will only last the night at most. Is there anything else I can help you with sir?” Charles didn’t even realise he was retreating back up the stairs as he shook his head. The businessman briefly considered letting Nick know his phone wouldn’t be able to charge in the blackout. But he decided the younger man would just have him questioning reality again. The rest of the day was spent in quiet, reading through several reports by daylight before retiring to bed. His unease with the whole situation depriving him of his appetite.

.

Thump, ssshhhh. Thump, ssshhh. Thump, ssshhh.

Charles’s eyes shot open as he recognised the same sound as last night. Only, tonight, it was much closer

Thump, ssshhhh. Thump, ssshhh. Thump, ssshhh.

From the floor above, the noise echoed down through the otherwise silent hotel. Charles sat bolt upright in the complete blackness of his room, listening as the steps moved closer, closer. The businessman felt his breath hitch in his throat and an icy hand of fear clutch his heart. Seized by a need to do something before his sanity left him, Charles flew to the floor and grasped his lighter like a lifeline. The battered old device was a remnant of a past habit, one he kept for no particular reason. But now he seized it, like a lifeline, and lit it.

Thump, ssshhhh. Thump, ssshhh. Thump, ssshhh.

The footsteps, for they must be footsteps though they were horribly mangled, passed right above so that specs of dust fell from the ceiling. The falling dust was made all the more dreadful when it threatened to clog the man’s only source of light. Then the footsteps passed. Just as it had the night before the noise grew fainter, and fainter, until it was no longer distinguishable.

Charles drew in a deep breath, unaware he had been holding his own for so long. Waiting a spell to decide whatever the sound was had passed for the night and he could return to his slumber.

Thump, ssshhhh, Huff. Thump, ssshhh, Huff. Thump, ssshhh, Huff.

Charles was seized by the same intense fear. He slowly turned to face the door, through which he could hear the terrifying sound carried from the corridor. But it was no longer just the sound of the steps. Now, with every step, came a breath. A deep, painfully hoarse, breath. A dark shadow appeared in the crack between the door and the carpeted floor. Charles wanted to scream. He wanted to run for his life and never look back. But he stood there transfixed, staring at the shadow, paralysed by his fear. But the noise moved past, taking the dark shadow with it. Instead whatever was the origin of all these terrifying features stopped at the next door along. It stopped at Nick’s door.

Thump, ssshhhh. BANG!....Whimper.

.

.

Thump, ssshhhh. Thump, ssshhhh.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the footsteps began to fade. Charles was unsure how long he waited. But all that greeted him was silence. Eventually, exhaustion overcame adrenaline and the man slipped into a fretful sleep.

Charles ran through the hotel banging on doors, throwing things against windows hoping to break them. His day had started when he was woken by the midday sun. Within moments, the fear from last night had returned. He had grabbed his phone and attempted to call a taxi, only to find the blackout was still in effect. What had followed had been the quickest packing Charles had ever done in his life. He was soon down the stairs and trying to prize open the front door with all his strength.

“May I help you sir?” Charles shot back several steps as the receptionist’s voice whispered in his right ear. But the strange man simply sidestepped out of the way and looked quizzically at his guest.

“I’m leaving this instant!” Charles stated as he moved forwards to continue his efforts to gain freedom. But his path had been blocked by the receptionist.

“I’m sorry sir but I can’t allow that. After all, the hotel has taken quite the liking to you.” Charles made to shove the impudent man aside, only to find himself thrown to the floor by one hand. Then the business man watched, horrified, as the shadows cast by the man began to grow. It was slow at first, barely noticeable. But gradually the size grew bigger, until they blotted out most of the foyer. Blocked out in a darkness blacker than the night. Charles looked into the face of the receptionist, seeing his polite smile had become a devilish grin that twisted his face into that of a daemon.

Charles ran. He ran and did not look back. He ran through every floor of the hotel. He ran through every room, searching for someone, anyone. He was unsure what difference another helpless being would make, but it was all his broken mind could think of. As day turned to night Charles legs finally failed him and he crashed to the floor. Whether it be cruel fate, or some other maniacal force, the man had fallen directly in front of his own room’s door.

Thump, ssshhhh. Thump, ssshhh. Thump, ssshhh.

Charles’s skin instantly grew clammy as he heard that ungodly sound. That sound that echoed up from the floor below. Summoning strength from some unknown reaches, the man dived into his room. In a frantic panic he pushed just about every piece of furniture, bed included, so that it blocked the door.

Thump, ssshhhh, Huff. Thump, ssshhh, Huff. Thump, ssshhh, Huff.

All of Charles’s exertions had been accompanied by the sound, all the while moving ever closer. Finally, he ran out of things to add to the barricade. But still he could hear those terrible sounds. It was all he could hear. Coming closer, from just down the corridor. Charles stood, once again transfixed by fear, as he prayed to any and every god that his defences would hold.

The steps stopped in front of the barricaded door.

Huff.

Huff.

Huff.

Knock.

It was almost if someone was knocking on a door with room service. The sound was so soft but that was all.

Thump, ssshhhh, Huff. Knock.

The footsteps moved on, every step punctuated by a knock on the wall. Testing. Probing. Waiting.

Thump, ssshhhh, Huff. Knock. Thump, ssshhhh, Huff. Knock.

The sound was so soft and yet, to Charles’s strained senses, it was like a cacophony of noise. Slowly, the thing continued along the front wall until it reached the end of the wall.

Thump, ssshhhh, Huff. Knock.

Charles almost leapt out of his skin as the sound appeared on the wall next to him. Nick and his shared wall. The wall that was completely undefended.

Knock.....Knock.

.

.

.

BANG!

Charles was thrown to the floor as the wall was blown apart. Crawling backwards on his hand, the man stared up at the origin of the nightmarish sounds. He screamed. It was indescribable. To try and attach labels to it was impossible, the mere act of staring at the thing was tearing apart his sanity. Oozing skin dripped to the ground where it sizzled and burnt. Its cold vacant eyes stared uncaringly down at its prey. The thing took a step forwards with its right leg, then dragged its lame left one forwards, closing in.

Charles pushed himself against the opposite wall as the monster reached forwards to him. Its nails coloured in different shades of red and black. The hint of what used to be a tattoo, melted away. As the claws came within an inch of his neck, all Charles could do was scream.

.

.

.

Jason burst through the door to the hotel eager to get out of the pounding rain. A rain he had been assured would be constant throughout his trip. With bounding steps, the man crossed the foyer to the check-in desk and the smiling receptionist.

“Jason Hartley, room for one.” Jason said as he stared at the strange man, it was after all his first time seeing someone with two differently coloured eyes. One was a dull grey, while the other was the most brilliant piercing blue.

“Certainly sir we’ve been expecting you. Would you mind signing in?” Jason was halfway through his signature before he noted the large portrait behind the desk. It was of a man in his late thirties wearing a business suit.

“Friend of yours?”

“He was a man that gave very generously to the hotel, though he did leave a frightful mess in his room.” Jason picked up the offered key and his luggage before asking

“Did he stay long?”

The receptionist’s sickly smile grew.

“Oh he’s still around. We tend to find here, those guests who the hotel likes, tend not to leave.”