A Night in 307

A Night in 307

As the night drew closer, Donald’s worry to get to a decent hotel started to grow. The sky was already heavy with black nimbus and it would break open any moment. The wind was picking up too. Donald quickened his pace. The narrow lanes and the dark alleys were getting darker. He hated when his suites got wet. He better finds a hotel soon.
The ones he tried were all full. It was the twelfth hotel that he was going to ask for a vacancy.
The receptionist smiled sadly and shook her head.
“Sorry sir, we have no vacancy.”
Donald raised his brows to the keyboard behind her.
“There’s still one key hanging,” he said. “It means a vacant room.”
The receptionist didn’t even glance.
“That’s not for hire,” she said.
“Please,” Donald clasped his hands on the countertop. He would have clasped her hands if he could reach them behind the counter. “I need a place to stay. It’s a nightmare outside.”
As if to underscore his words, lightning cracked and flashed starling both the guest and the receptionist.
“See?”
The receptionist looked visibly uncomfortable. She looked this way and that.
“Look,” Donald put in. “I’ll pay extra.”
“It's not about money sir,” she said. “It's… well… that… that room … well…”
“Please let me stay,” Donald almost begged.
“But sir, it's haunted.” The lady blurted out in a whisper.
For moments Donald stared at her face and then burst out laughing so hard that the poor girl almost jumped off her chair.
“Sorry,” Donald said trying to compose himself. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. But haunted? Did you say haunted?”
Donald’s raised voice had turned all the heads of the few people who were there in the foyer. Though late but some of the visitors were lingering about.
The receptionist’s worried look quickly lowered Donald’s voice but his amusement didn’t subdue.
“Alright, alright,” he said finally becoming steady. “Tell me how much the room would cost with room service, TV and your,” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “ghost.”
The receptionist picked up the phone and called in the manager.
The manager, Mr. Spirite, a man of fifty, came and sized Donald at a glance. The receptionist explained the situation. Mr. Spirite listened and then turned to Donald.
“Very well,” he said. “I’ll let you stay in that room. In case you can’t stay in that one room, you’ll have to leave the hotel immediately.”
Donald agreed and the manager handed the key over to him.

A boy showed him to the room, 307, and left. Donald inspected the room. For a haunted room, it was pretty neat and clean. He didn’t find anything out of place far less scary. He cleaned himself and turned on the TV after placing his dinner order.
Dinner arrived; Donald ate and returned the plates.
At fifteen minutes to eleven, he turned out the TV, the lights and turned in.

He was dreaming of beaches with women and wine when he felt a poking in his shoulder. Donald brushed it off, turned side and continued to dream. The poking returned to his other shoulder.
He pushed it away and pulled the cover over his head.
“What a sleeping bag,” a voice said.
Donald let it pass for his imagination and was about to go back to sleep when the voice spoke once more.
“What definite lack of decency.”
Donald jumped on the bed and sat up straight.
His widened eyes shot from one point to another. In the darkness of the room, he could barely see his hands, let alone anyone else. He would’ve gone back to sleep but the story about the room being haunted nudged the back of his neck.
He fumbled on the table, dropped his watch but managed to turn on the bedside lamp.
“Ah,” A female voice exclaimed. “Easy with the light please.”
Donald stared at the lady on the sofa. The low powered lamp had cast her in semidarkness giving her features a mysterious edge. She looked young, slim and fare, bordering over pale. The dress she wore was in fashion about a thousand years ago if not more but it was in perfect condition. Her hair was up in a bun with rolls of locks falling on both sides of her face.
Donald pulled the cover to his chin and opened his mouth to speak but the lady spoke first.
“Mister,” she said in a sharp tone. “You are in my bedroom.”
“You… your… bed… bedroo…?” Donald wondered while stammering if he would ever be able to speak.
“Yes mister,” she said and got up. “Now get off my bed.”
Donald slipped off and stood in a corner.
The lady glided to the bed and sat down on the edge. She looked at Donald who was shaking like an autumn leaf and smiled.
“You can sleep on the sofa if you want.”
Like a machine, he obeyed. He went one step at a time to the sofa and sat down. Sleep was in another universe.
“I am Elizabeth Williamsburg. You are?”
“Don… don… Donald,” he let out the name in three attempts.
“Is there a last name that goes with it?” She asked putting her one leg on the other.
Donald swallowed. He suddenly found it difficult to recall his last name.
“Never mind,” Elizabeth dismissed the matter. “So why are you here?”
Donald opened his mouth but no words came out. He kept staring at her.
Elizabeth frowned and narrowed her eyes.
“Do I look ugly?” she asked, her tone icy. “I’ve been dead for three fifty years but haven’t let my looks decay.” She raised her chin. “I can bet my heart, which ain’t there anymore, that I look not a day over twenty-five. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Donald nodded not knowing what to do.
“Well, what are you scared of?” she asked. “Haven’t you seen a ghost before?”
Donald shook his head.
“There used to be our home before it was razed down and this hotel came up.”
Donald licked his lips.
Elizabeth smiled and came forward, her soft steps soundless on the tiled floor. She stopped so close to Donald that he should’ve felt her breath on him, only there was none. She was looking down on him from above.
Donald’s jaws dropped.
She put a finger under his chin and shut his mouth. Then her finger went to his hair and traced the curve of his face till she was back to his chin.
She smiled.
Thunder cracked outside.
Donald jumped and yelped closing his eyes.
When he opened his eyes, he found the room empty. The rain continued to fall. Inside he was drenched in sweat. He gave the room a good look before concluding that he was alone.
I must have been dreaming, he thought. He went to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face and neck. Boy, it felt good. He screwed the tap off and turned and screamed.
She screamed, mimicking him.
For moments they stood there looking at each other’s eyes: his scared and frightened, hers twinkling with laughter.
Donald opened the door and tumbled into the room. He had to get out of here. But then he would be in the streets.
“Did I scare you, Don darling?” Elizabeth asked batting her eyelids. “Come let’s sit.”
She grabbed his hand, her ice cold touch sending a chill down his body. She pulled him to the sofa.
He sat straight-backed, hands tightly clasped on his lap. Beside him Elizabeth sat, leaning towards him, her lips inches away from his face.
“Are you married, Don darling?”
“No,” Donald shook his head.
“I was you know,” she said and moved back. “I was married to David. He was such a nice man.”
“Then what happened?” Donald asked, surprised that he had found his voice.
“I had a big diamond for my engagement,” she said in a wistful voice, pointing to her bare ring-finger. “One night David came and assaulted me. He wanted the diamond back. When I denied, he killed me.”
Donald sat stupefied.
“After I passed away, I came back to take my revenge. I found David alone in the library. I killed him.”
Donald wanted to run away but his limbs refused to obey. They were frozen, the blood in his veins was frozen. His brain had gone numb.
“You know what I found out?” She asked.
“Wha… what?”
“It was not David, but his twin brother who had killed me.” Her voice had turned hard. “I didn’t even know he had a twin brother. Actually, that brother of his was a cheat, a… a scoundrel. David never spoke of him.”
She fell silent. In her eyes, there was a faraway look.
“I… I am so… sorry,” Donald mumbled actually feeling sorry for her.
She smiled. A cold smile just like her touch had been.
“Don’t be,” she said, her voice was chillier than her smile. “I found him and killed him too. I always do.”
“Al… always?” Suddenly Donald felt his throat dry. Then there was an icy touch on his arm. Elizabeth had turned towards him, her hands on his, eyes into his eyes. She walked her fingers up his arm till they reached his neck. Donald’s whole being seemed to have lost all senses. He couldn’t look away from those eyes. The fingers were slowing taking over his neck. Then five more fingers joined from other side and set tight like a collar on his throat.
Elizabeth smiled.
Donald sweated.
Elizabeth tightened her grip on his throat.
Donald felt his tonsils touching each other, blocking the windpipe.
The fingers dug in…
“Lizzy,” a male voice said. “Stop.”
Elizabeth stopped squeezing her fingers. Donald, all of a sudden, was aware of those hands around his throat and grabbed them to free himself but his hands met thin air.
Elizabeth ignored him and turned to the voice.
“Lizzy,” The voice again said. “Let the gentleman go.”
“But David, he is Donald.”
“Yes,” David said. “His name is Donald, but he is not my brother. All the Donald's in the world are not my brother.”
Elizabeth sighed her disappointed and floated away from Donald.
Donald, finally able to breathe, gulped in some air and turned to David.
“Thank you,” he said extending his hand. “I am so… ah…” words and air choked his throat. “You… you… Mr.… Mr. Spirite?”
“I am afraid I …” he was abruptly cut off mid-sentence. Elizabeth laughed out loud in amazement.
Donald had just lost consciousness and crumbled to the floor.
***

Donald woke up because of a sharp noise. He jumped on his bed and looked around. Someone was ringing the doorbell. Donald breathed in steadying his thoughts. What a frightful night! All because of the receptionist. The room was filled with sunlight and looked cheerful. He brushed his nightmare away and went to answer the door. The boy looked surprised but said nothing. With a good morning wish, he left him with his tea, breakfast, and newspaper.

Donald dressed, breakfasted and left the room.

He checked out at the reception. The girl looked visibly amazed to find him smiling.
"Here is my pay," he told her. "And a tip for your ghost."
He laughed out loud.

Donald came out of the hotel looking for a cab. It was nice and warm. The trees rustled, people sat in their shadows, chatting. The night before was just a dream.
Donald was about to step on to the street when his eyes caught Mr. Spirite and Elizabeth. She was in that same dress from last night. They were talking to each other but stopped when they saw him staring at them. He swayed a little before falling down unconscious. While everything cast a nice dark shadow, the two of them had none.