“What a waste of time.” Jane threw her purse down on the kitchen counter and began searching the cabinet for a glass. Mark had just sat down on the couch and was working on removing the dress shoes he had put on this morning for the job he never got to attend. His feet ached but he somehow hadn’t noticed until standing up from his seat up at the town hall. The tv was still on, playing the message on an endless loop. Every channel displayed the same static visual and played the same four tones followed by the voice of the most famous woman in Hope’s View. Mark had noticed at some point during the day that different channels seemed to be on different timers. He had made a game of trying to switch between them to make the message seem like it was constantly repeating. His record was three repetitions using channels 2, 57, and 14. Part of him wondered if it was possible to endlessly loop the message if he found the right combination. As he worked on his shoes, his mind began to feel for the possible outcomes. Maybe some of the men in yellow would barge in, only instead of guns they’d have balloons and a comically oversized check. “You got the code! How does it feel to win a million dollars?” Or he could drive to the barricade, calm and collected as he rolled the window down. He wouldn’t wait for his captors to finish speaking, he would just say “2, 57, 14” and so on until he got through all the channels in the right order. His captors would clap and the armored trucks would park like the red sea, allowing him and his family to rejoin the rest of the world. He would be the town hero.
Mark’s day dreaming was interrupted by the sound of Jane’s glass clinking on the counter. “I mean, why even have a town hall if you can’t answer a single god damn question?” Mark, having regained his focus, began working on the other shoe. “Mark? Any thoughts?” The shoes were off, and Mark gave his wife the contemplative stare he wore when trying to decide on a response. A door shut upstairs, and Mark seized the opportunity to change the subject. “Sounds like Robin is finally home. We should check on her.” Robin was home for the summer from San Diego, where she attended college for most of the year. Jane nodded, and the two began moving towards the hallway. Jane stopped at the bottom of the stairs and placed her hands on Mark’s chest. “I’ll go check on Robin. Can you please check and see if the laundry is done?” Mark feigned offense, his hands rising comically into the air as she left him at the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll give you your girl time.” She blew him a kiss, and the two of them parted.
Mark felt the chill of the basement air before he had reached the bottom of the stairs. The light felt harsh against the white concrete blocks that made up the walls, and he felt the usual sense of unease he felt anytime he was below the surface of the Earth. He turned from the stairs and made his way to the dryer against the back wall; its green light blinking so Mark knew he was allowed to remove his family’s assorted clothing. He opened the dryer, noticing the fleeting reflection of the dark space under the stairs as it swung open. Then, one handful at a time, he pulled clothes from the machine, letting them fall into the basket at his feet. He had the morose thought that he was disemboweling the machine. The last handful of clothes spilled out, and Mark began to shut the dryer door. As he did, he saw the reflection of what looked like a man huddled in the dark corner beneath the stairs. “Jesus!” Mark jerked backwards and fell. Instinctively, he tried to hold onto the dryer door, but his momentum was too great. The door broke off its hinges with a loud cracking sound that echoed through the machine as both Mark and the door hit the floor. His heart was pounding and he was scrambling back towards the wall as his eyes scanned beneath the stairs. There was no one there, but the image was burned into his mind. A pale face with deep, empty eyes, and a body obscured by darkness. He lost all sense of time as he sat there, only brought back to himself when he heard Robin laughing in the kitchen. Mark got up, grabbed the clothes, and began heading upstairs. He looked back at the corner on more time, but there was still nothing but shadows. As he walked up the stairs, he found himself fixated on a single question. Was it smiling?
Hotel for Ghosts 