Chapter 8: Creature Comforts
âNo one can build his security upon the nobleness of another person.â
â Willa Cather, Alexander's Bridge
Distant voices became more apparent as I awoke on a chaise lounge in what seemed to be a private room hidden behind thick red curtains. Oh, thatâs right; I can see properly again. I propped myself up with my elbow and rubbed the knot I felt on the back of my head. Mrs. Rosie was nowhere to be found, but I saw Mr. Morde casually sitting on the edge of the bed, reading a well-worn book. He glanced up momentarily to look at me, then returned to his book. âWelcome back to the realm of damnation, child. How fair thy repose?â He said with a puckish grin.
My mouth felt dry and scratchy. I pretended to chew on something to get my saliva working again. Moments later, I cleared my throat and said in a still, raspy voice, âOh my. How long was I out?â Without even looking at me, he said, â Not long. If I were to guess, I would say about twenty minutes.â I sat straight on the lounge and stretched my arms and back in tandem. âIf I may be so bold, would it have been better to lay me on the bed instead of the lounge?âÂ
âWe thought the bed would have been too comfortable, and we have much to do today to let such a minor inconvenience hold sway for an entire day.â " he said candidly. I seriously doubted the validity of that statement since I could theoretically fall asleep anywhere, but I guess the reasoning felt sound enough. Couches aren't always the most comfortable places to sleep. I struggled to find anything else to say about the matter at hand.
 I got up and leaned backward to crack my lower back. âI am very grateful for taking care of me. I donât suppose Mrs. Rosie is still around, is she? I want to thank her, too.â I became very aware of how he towered over me as he stood up from his sitting place, parted the curtains, and gestured towards the main floor. âOh, thank you.â I bowed my head lightly as I ducked under the curtain door to the hallway. Zestial made his way in front of me to lead me down. My hand clutched the banister tightly, holding my fist close to my chest. We passed some unusual paintings on the way to the stairs. There was an eeriness about them. Whatever it was, it made the hair I still had on the back of my neck bristle. I could have sworn I was being watched, but I elected to ignore it for the sake of my sanity. My mind must be playing silly tricks on me. Iâm safe for the most part, or at least safer than before. Iâm relatively sure that Mr. Morde isnât going to let anything bad happen to me; after all, I still have an ongoing deal with him.Â
That bolstered my confidence a little as we walked down the stairs. I looked back at the dim stairwell with troubling second thoughts. The shadows behind the frame felt deeper than they should have been as the short fuzz all over my body stood on end. My wool will grow back, right? It has to. The thoughts spun in my head as we reached the main floor. Zestiel moved aside, and then I noticed the crowd of people, and their lively chatter rang in my ears in full force.Â
We made our way back to Rosie, and she handed me a lovely old-fashioned suitcase filled with my recent purchases. My ears picked up every little noise in the store as I thanked her. The endless chatter between random sinners smothered my mind and made me feel all prickly. I felt myself going ridged, my hands clasping tightly on the suitcase handles as my eyes locked straight ahead to the wall behind her. I didnât catch what Mr. Morde said to her during our farewell, and by this point, I didnât really care.Â
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âMany thanks for being such a gracious Hostess to my newest asset.â Zestial tipped his hat in farewell until he felt an impromptu yet familiar chill from Nellieâs direction. He turned around only to see her frozen in place like a statue. Her lavender eyes bore through him and everything else to a far-off place. âAre you well, child?â He said, gently touching the top of her fluffy head. No reaction. The chill was seeping from her and was making his fingers go numb. He withdrew his hand back into his cloak to chase off the cold long enough to try again. He stooped down to her eye level and lightly but firmly jostled her shoulder; the cold was catching up in his hand sharper this time. âNellie, child, âtis time for us to depart.â Her body shuddered back to life as she took a long, deep breath, slowly exhaling a stream of frost covering his spider-like accouterment in tiny icicles. A few hard blinks and a vigorous head shake returned her mind to her current reality, âOh! Iâm sorry. I must have zoned out. Did you say something, Mr. Morde?âÂ
ââTis time that we take our leave, lamb, lest you wish to sleep neith the sky.â He remarked with a wink and a puckish grin. I just stood there staring at him, the sticky gears turning in my head after what felt like a long day. â Oh, right, okay!â Something finally clicked, and I made my way toward the Emporium doors. Zestial held the door like a gentleman, and I waved one last goodbye at Rosie from the sidewalk. Iâm unsure if she saw, though there was an ocean of people between us now. Mr. Morde cleared his throat to get my attention and gestured to follow him.Â
We walked quite a distance, or at least long enough for me to feel the weight of an overloaded suitcase quite prominently. The distance between us grew as I fell behind. Switching hands didnât help much, as I would walk lopsided. My arms were aching; I wished this was a fancy rolling suitcase or a regular backpack. It would make it so much easier, and there is no way Iâm leaving my new stuff behind when I havenât the foggiest of idea when I can get more. I politely hollered at him to give me a moment to catch up; as embarrassing as it was, it did get him to stop. âExcuse me, Iâm so sorry for the delay.â I heaved the heavy bag before me, huffing at the cumbersome burden. âThis bag has been feeling heavier and heavier the longer we walked. May I ask if we are almost there?â I looked towards him tentatively, trying to avoid a possible gaze of displeasure. âLittle Lamb, we art barely halfway there, and night falls soon.â He didnât sound angry. At least, I hope he wasnât. Some people are good at hiding their displeasure, which is always confusing and terrifying.
I let out a deep sigh, relieved that he wasn't angry at me yet and disappointed that we still had a long way to go. âWould thou care for some assistance?â I looked up and smiled. âNo, thank you. I think I have to adjust some things in my bag. Can you please give me a moment?â I already felt like a burden and didnât want to add any more. My thoughts roiled for a quick solution as I rummaged through my bag to look busy as he waited beside me. Sifting through some of the longer articles of clothing actually gave me an idea. âI hope I donât ruin these with what Iâm about to do,â I muttered. Â
I placed a couple of pants and nightgowns on my shoulders and sat on the cleanest part of the ground I could find. Zestial looked on with puzzled amusement as I dragged the suitcase onto my lap, folded the nightgowns one by one, and wrapped them lengthwise around the bag. Then, I folded the pants and wove them through the nightgowns to create makeshift backpack straps. The cumbersome part was getting it onto my back without letting it fall on the floor and dirtying the temporarily repurposed clothes. I tightened the âstraps,â so my luggage hugged my back more snugly. I must have looked really dumb, but now, with the weight on my back, it was easier to move. Smiling, âOkay, I think Iâm ready to continue, Mr. Morde. I appreciate your patience.â Then, with his nod, we were back on our way.Â
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Without my music player, it felt like we were walking for an eternity when we reached the outside of the hotel.Â
The skies lighted the pale stonework a dull pink as I read the name The Gormandal Hotel in big, fancy, gilded-edged letters on one of the giant front windows, its borders etched with dainty filigrees and spooky patterns. A clean-cut porter opened the just as intricately decorated French doors and headed to the front desk. My eyes couldnât help but wander around the lobby, looking at mid-range decor as he spoke to the receptionist for a room. If this was where Iâm going to stay, it was a lot better than I was thinking of. Although I haven't seen the actual room, it has been an all alright impression so far. How good could a hotel really be in hell, of all places? I turned around when my ears perked up at my name being called. âYes, sir, Mr. Morde?â I answered.Â
âCome, this gentleman will show you to your room.â He bade. I walked close behind him as the receptionist led the way to the elevator. âIf needed, the stairways are at either end of the hall,â they pointed out as we entered the elevator and greeted the operator. Oh, so it was that kind of elevator, I thought. Iâve only seen it in old cartoons and movies, so I added that new fact to my mental notes. â4th Floor, Mr. Pullmen, if you will,â the man asked. â They silently pulled the lever, closing the doors, and then pulled a different lever to make it move. It took a few minutes, but we finally got off at the 4th floor and continued walking down the warmly lit hall until the receptionist stopped at one of the solid wooden doors with a small brass plaque with the number 418. I mentally chuckled âteapotâ to myself. They opened the door to let us inside. It wasnât a massive room, but it wasnât small either, and it had a window with thick curtains on the far wall. There was the standard array of hotel furniture: bed, chair, lamp, dresser, mirror, a clock on the wall, you know, nothing fancy, but it looked and smelled clean. I took off my bag and placed it on top of the dresser, and then sat on the bed feeling my tootsies throbbing for relief. Mr.Morde did not follow suit, though, preferring to stand. I suppose he wants to leave soon.Â
It felt great to finally take that load off, and I could see the white porcelain in the bathroom from where I was sitting. It was a relief that I didnât have to share sanitation facilities with anyone.  The receptionist turned around and announced, âBreakfast is available between 7 to 10:30 am and dinner buffet from 5 to 9:30 pm in the dining area and is included with your stay package. If anything is a miss or you have further questions, feel free to call the concierge with the provided phone. We thank you for choosing The Gormandal Hotel for your stay.â He handed me the key and made a swift exit from the room.Â
âMs. Nellie,â Zestial looked at me, and I stared back, âI have provided you with a fortnight's stay at this establishment. In the interim, I advise you to find gainful employment and more permanent lodging within Madam Rosie's Borders if thou wish to have an uneventful afterlife. Where in her domain is up to you. I will be in touch when I have the time, and until then, I wish you luck.â I nodded back only to be interrupted by my tummy rumbling, and I looked at the clock on the wall to read 9:30 pm. WaitâŠ.9:30?! Iâm gonna miss food if I donât get down soon. To err on the side of politeness, I asked, âMr. Morde, it is awfully late. Would you care to join me for dinner in the dining hall?â He took out an old pocket watch and double-checked the time.Â
âUnfortunately, I must decline your offer, Miss. Nellie, as I must see to another appointment. By the by, that timepiece on the wall is incorrect. It is actually 10:15 pm. If you wish to garner substance, you best make it swiftly,â he mentioned while walking out the door.Â
 âOh, crumbs!â I jumped to my aching feet in surprise and made a mad dash for the door before it closed, yanking it open to see that Mr. Morde had already vanished. I quickly locked the door and gripped the key tightly as I made my way to the stairs closest to me. Taking the elevator felt like it would take too long, so I did my best to slide down the banister without eating the floor. It was a wobbly landing, but I had to maintain momentum to get to the dining hall. I sniffed the air because I forgot to ask where exactly the place was, but if I smelled food, I was most certain I would find it.Â
I soon heard the late-night clattering of bussing dishes down the hall, telling me this must be the way to go. Entering the large archway, I saw mostly empty dining tables with a few late-night stragglers snacking before closing time, and the far wall had a really big clock that read 10:23. By the skin of my teeth, I made it! I picked a plate from what I assumed was the plate station and looked as quickly as possible to see if there was still anything edible on display. It was slim pickinâs, but what would you expect? Most of the stuff was unrecognizable, but I think I saw some mashed potatoes, or I hope it was mashed potatoes. It smelled inoffensive and so did the mystery loaf, so I took some of both and what I think is chicken. All I knew was it was cold, and the rest of the food was barely lukewarm. I sat down, annnnd I forgot my utensilsâŠâŠ I looked at the clock again and saw 10:27. Crud⊠I donât have time. I looked around me quickly to see how many people were left and whispered, â I guess Iâll use my hands.â I ate like I was the last kid in the school lunch line. The mystery mush was meh, but at least the meatloaf tasted better. I canât say the same about the âchickenâ. Cold poultry seldom tastes good.Â
The final bell had rung to announce closing time, and by then, my plate was as empty as I got it- well, minus the bone. I wasnât full, but it would have to do for now. I gave my plate to the nearest busboy and thanked him for the service as they let out a grunt. As I walked out of the dining hall, I realized somethingâŠ.I was lost. âUh-oh.â There was no smell to guide me this time, so I wandered around the now unusually liminal halls. I eventually ran into a little imp maid with their cleaning cartâŠ.. A very gory cleaning cartâŠ.. whatever happened I decided not to ask about it. I did, however, ask where the stairs were, and they pointed me back to where I came from and gestured that it was on my left.Â
From there, getting to my room was easy if unsettling. Halfway in the hall were fresh bloody footprints and drag marks going to another room down the hall. I know that wasnât there before I went to dinner. I rushed inside and locked the door immediately, chain and all. After my run-in with the maid, I also jammed the chair in front of the door. Disturbing thoughts made chills run down my spine at the thought of someone in the room. I grabbed one of the table lamps as a weapon and crept quietly around, checking under the bed and then moving on to the bathroom to check if anyone happened to be there uninvited. I quickly turned on the light switch next to the door lamp at the ready, only to be met withâŠâŠnothing. That was a relief. But wait! What about behind the shower curtain? I pulled it back swiftly to find⊠also nothing. I shivered from being on edge, letting out a deep sigh of relief. At least I didnât have to worry about the sink since it was on a pedestal. I put the lamp back from where I got it and washed my face in the bathroom before changing into my new set of PJs. I left the light on in the bathroom and left the door ajar. It still didnât feel safe enough to be without some sort of indirect illumination. Yawing, I looked at the clock to see how wrong it was. âOne forty-five, huh? I guess it must be some time around two-thirtyish?â I mumbled when I turned off the light and cocooned myself in the thin bedsheet. Soon enough, I drifted off to sleep.Â
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I awoke abruptly to a noise outside my door. I looked at the clock reading four-fifteen. I whipped my head back to the door when the banging continued on my door. I silently clambered out of bed onto the reversed chair blocking the door and peered through the peephole. I was stunned to see an unknown person covered in gore still banging on the door with the but of a large knife, angrily calling out, âMax! Hey, Maxwell, open up! I know you're in there you slippery son of a cunt! Gimme the rest of the loot âfore I go in and gut ya through a new asshole! Ya two-timing pussbag!â
I backed away quickly, took the suitcase off the dresser, and scooted the heavy dresser in front of the door as the banging and yelling continued. It got to the point that I heard heavier collisions on the door, and the wood began to crack and splinter. I silently prayed as my heart leapt into my throat. I grabbed the lamp again, hid behind the bathroom door, and turned off the light. âPlease, no. Please, No! PLEASE, NO!âI couldnât close my eyes in fear of what would come next as half the door split open with slurs and insults following behind.Â
âHey, Asshole!â I heard it in a woman's voice. âOur guests are trinâ ta sleep, you buck-fanged degenerate!" It was followed by a big oof from the man at the door and what sounded like a solid punch to the gut. âYer on the wrong floor you moron! I told you before that he was in room 226! I even gave ya the damn key so there would be less mess ta clean!â The gruffer voice yelled back as the sound of a dense thump hit the wall, âShut the fuck up, and out of my way you horned rat! Someoneâs in there, and I mean to find out who!â I could hear the door snapping to pieces, followed by a high-pitched war cry as an even bigger thud hit the floor. I froze with bated breath to bash him with the lamp if he made it through. Then the yelling stopped. I didnât dare turn the lights on as I crept from the bathroom and peered through the now massive hole in the door, trying to stay out of sight. I saw his body lying limp in a pool of his blood and the knife he had through his skull. I ducked back down into the darkness as the little imp maid grumbled loudly, âNow I got ta reclean the hall and replace the fucking door! Fucken hell; I don't get paid extra to deal with this shit! Fucken sinner trash.âÂ
I moved all my stuff to the bathroom, took the pillows and blanket with me, and jammed the door closed with a lamp. I suppose Iâll have to sleep in the tub tonight. I closed the curtain and laid on the pillows in the tub. My eyes watered after the passing altercation. Who am I kidding?.... I donât think I can sleep anymore tonight after that.
Yay! I finally finished the chapter! Writers bock sucks bigtime especially during the holidays, among other things.
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