Forum Round Robin Self-Intert Story

[Guest Knorg]

Darkness came first. It always does. First comes the darkness, then the light. So the mist shrouded castle sat in the darkness atop the hill. The sunlight reflecting face of the full moon was hidden above low clouds, heavy with rain. The mist was in off the sea, and muffled the sound of the waves crashing furiously against the base of the cliffs. Rocks older than man crumbled to dust under the onslaught, and washed down into the roiling embrace of cold, wet death.

“I bloody knew I should have gone to Greece,” muttered Knorg, as he stepped from the taxi and gazed through the darkness at the unlit stone monstrosity.

He paid the taxi driver the exact amount plus a tip for his service. Knorg had heard tell that getting a taxi back to the train station would be facilitated by not being a tight bastard. Hefting his suitcase he walked towards the main gate into the castle’s central yard. A weather-beaten sign bore a message of welcome to Castle McSweeny Hotel.. Some wag had misappropriated an old, tied, joke, and scrawled ‘You’re,’ on the sign.

The hotel was north and east of Inverness, and the brochure spoke of the warm and welcoming atmosphere, the romantic stretches of beaches, and the tales of nymphomaniac poltergeists being totally false. Lady McSweeny was well aware of the draw of a strongly worded denial. Knorg soon found himself standing in the 24 hour reception, contemplating that it was so-called because you had to wait 24 hours for service.

[Ginevra]

“You’ll have to ring the bell if you want any service.” I offered to the rather damp looking fellow waiting in the reception room. I reached past his shoulder to tap the little service bell a few times.

“Do you work here?” The stranger asked me.

“Not if I can help it. I’m supposed to be on vacation.”

I scanned the rather sparse offering of magazines and pamphlets on the little table. None of it looked promising, but I had discovered a bit too late that this Hotel had neither cable nor Internet service and my cell phone was useless. Less than a day and I was already in electronic withdrawal. I gave up on my search with a sigh.

“Anyways…My name’s Ginevra and I’ve got a room up on the second floor.” I offered my hand and my friendliest smile. “Might as well get acquainted as I expect you’ll be waiting a while. Took the lady almost 45 minutes to come down when I checked in.”

[Shinju]

Knorg tried not to look as annoyed and tired as he felt. The kind Ginerva, seeing his distress, began to slam away at the antique brass service bell on the front desk. Knorg's head pounded. He placed his hand on her wrist to stop her.

"If you could please, I have a headache . . . "

Ginerva took her hand away from the bell. "But if you don't hit it hard, the lady won't come."

Knorg began to pound on the bell himself. After about thirty second of this, a woman came out from the velvet curtain behind the desk. She looked miffed. "Excuse me sir, but that bell is an antique. It'll break if you keep banging away at it like that."

She was a buxom young woman, with black eyes and black hair that shone eerily against her pale skin. Her voice was soft, but her accent was American. Well that would explain the lack of service.

"I would like to be shown to my room."

Her deadpan face, which looked at him with those expressionless obsidian eyes, gave him the impression that she thought him a slight irritation that needed to be dealt with. "If you could sign here please, sir." She unceremoniously pushed an open, dusty leather volume at him.

Knorg stood there for a second, wondering why he wasn't writing anything yet. Oh, right . . . "May I have a pen?"

The girl seemed to pull the pen out of nowhere and handed it to him with a flick of the wrist.

A fountain pen, how quaint. He hastily jotted down his name and address. Did hotels usually ask for an address when signing? Come to think of it, he had never been to a hotel that had an actual guest book.

He was far too exhausted to contemplate the strangeness of his surroundings or the queerness of his hostess. His eyes blurred as he finished filling in the rest of his information.

"Right this way, I'll take you to you're room." She made her way out from behind the front desk.

"I know I paid for this room online already, but do I need to leave a card down here as well?"

She didn't even bother looking at him as she answered. "No, this isn't that kind of hotel."

He didn't spend to long puzzling over her strange answer, although he would later. "But what if I want to watch a movie?"

He thought he heard the hint of a faint chuckle, but he couldn't be sure. "We have no televisions here, sir."

Knorg groaned inwardly as he followed her. She hadn't even offered to relieve him of his baggage.

He hastily looked behind him, wondering what had become of the woman he had been talking to. She was standing there, reading a pamphlet. "It was nice meeting you, Miss . . . "

"Ginerva," she supplied. "Perhaps we'll see each other again sometime."

Knorg was walking, carrying his suitcase and talking at the same time and brain was so muddled he really couldn't think of a good reply. "Yes, perhaps." He continued to follow the black haired woman up what seemed to be an endless series of stairs.

On and on they walked, his cramped calves hiking stair after stair. How many of those God damned things were there? Just when he thought he couldn't take another step, they reached a long, red carpeted corridor.

"My name is Shinju," the woman said, unlocking the door to his room for him. Once again, the key seemed to come out of nowhere. "I work the night shift here at the McSweeny. Please ring the front desk if you need anything."

"Does this room have a phone?" He could swear the corner of her mouth gave a twitch of a smile.

"No, sir. There is a phone down in the main lobby." Ring the front desk. No phone. He got it.

He jumped at the touch of her cold hand. "Your key, Mr. Knorg." He grasped his numb fingers around the cool metal of the old fashioned key. "Goodnight." She exited, closing the heavy wooden door behind her.

"Bloody should have gone to Greece . . . "

[Guest Zyx]

I ate my food, though I wasn't into greek food much. I knew there were worse places to be right now. I figured I'd go for a swim in after dinner, it'd been a hot day.

[maidenhair]

The room was clean and the bed comfortable. I considered a nap before my swim. The greek food wasn't sitting well with me. Stretching out on the bed, I closed my eyes. It had been a long day. A long week. Hell, it had been a long, damn year. I needed a break. Maybe after this job, I could take some downtime.