26 Aug 2016, 2:57am
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The Macedonia Hotel, Chapter 6

Macedonia HotelThe Macedonia Hotel

A NANOWRIMO

Relay writing project

 

 

By the Wayne writers Guild

Completed July 2016


The Macedonia Hotel

(This fictional piece is the product of a relay writing project by the Wayne Writer’s Guild In honor of NANOWRIMO-2015.  Any resemblance to real events, people, places, or things is a coincidence and neither intended nor implied to be real and accurate.)

 

 

 

I extend my thanks and gratitude to the contributors who shared their time and talents to make this NANOWRIMO Relay Writing Project possible.

 

The individual chapters are the intellectual property of the author.

 

Special thanks are extended to John Cieslinski for his generous use of the book store’s back room.

–Kate Chamberlin, Coordinating Editor

July 20, 2016

 

 

Wayne Writers Guild

Meets at 7:30pm – 9:00pm, on the 2nd and 4th. Tuesday of each month

Books, Etc. of Macedon, NY

John Cieslinski, Owner

78 W. Main ST. Macedon NY 14502

Phone 585-474-4116

Chapter 6

Dark Times

By Mary Stanton (aka Claudia Bishop)

 

Ivory jerked awake into darkness, and for one terror-stricken moment, she was back in that house, and he was coming, she knew he was coming and there was nothing she could do to save herself or her sisters.

She gasped and sat up. The lights on her laptop glowed orange/white in the gloom. The familiar, musty smell of the cupola at the top of the Macedonia hotel washed over her. She wasn’t home. She’d fallen asleep over her work, and her shabby room, her refuge, was just two floors away.

She sighed and stretched. She was safe. For now.

Or was she? The sounds of the party below had reached shrieking heights. Somebody had turned on a boom box, and the bass rumbled of unidentifiable music shook the floor under her feet. Wild laughter spiraled up the stairs.

Ivory picked up her cell phone, hesitating. Should she call the cops? Even that fat police chief ought to be able to do something about it.

Ivory had discovered the cupola the first week she’d moved into the hotel, and quickly made it her own. The space was small—no more than eight feet square, and the only furniture were a shabby velvet arm chair, and a wobbly card table. She’d shoved the table in front of the little window so she could look out over Main Street while she worked and dreamed of better times.

She looked out the window now; Chief of Police Wardle spent a lot of time at the Hungry House Café across the street, scarfing up French fries doused in gravy and if all he had to do was stump across Main and wave his badge around, the reprobates would go home and she could go to bed in peace.

But she couldn’t see Main Street. She couldn’t see anything. White fog obscured the air outside. She rubbed heavy condensation from the glass with the sleeve of her hoodie.

Snow. Inches and inches of snow. Not unexpected in an upstate New York November, but a real pain in the butt nonetheless. The snow plow hadn’t made it out yet, and the street was slushy with tire tracks and ice. The few cars parked in front of the Hungry House were draped with sheets of white. Nobody trudged down the snowbound sidewalks.

A faint yellow glow from the cafe windows told her the place was still open. Ivory sat back, scrubbed her face with both hands, and then closed her lap top. The thump of the bass beneath her feet changed to a faster beat. She had to do something. There was that pretty girl, Grace, to think of; Ivory wasn’t at all sure Randy had gotten her out of there safely. And there was that constant, maddening maelstrom of noise. Ivory hated noise. Noise meant her drunken step father cranking the TV volume up to intolerable heights, her sisters screaming when he swung his fists, her mother sobbing helplessly. Nope. That wasn’t going to happen here, in her refuge. Ivory wouldn’t let it. She’d shut that bunch of fools up herself.

“Reprobates,” the Lady’s voice whispered in her ear. “In my hotel….”

With the suddenness of a slammed door, the party stopped. The voices and the laughter cut off as if a knife had severed them. Somebody jerked the electrical plug on the music, or it sounded like it.

Reprobates….

Ivory smiled to herself. It’d be pretty darn cool if she could depend on the Lady for a bit of help now and then. Maybe she’d stop at Big Bertha’s 3rd floor ‘suite’—and what the heck had Social Services been thinking of to get that sloppy little witch a suite?!—and see if the Lady had struck them all mute, or something.

She tucked her lap top under her arm, slipped out the door, and paused at the top of the landing.

The lights were out along the stairwell. Billy Beckwith was a slob, but he was more scared of the Macedon code officer than he was of a little work, and the forty watt bulbs along the stairwells were always on at night. She sighed. So maybe the Lady hadn’t worked some magic after all; maybe it was that reliable upstate New York phenomenon, a power outage. She’d have to go down to the lobby and roust Billy out of bed so he could get the generator going.

Ivory tucked her laptop more firmly under her arm and felt her way carefully down the stairs. She figured the last time the carpet at the Macedonia had been replaced was maybe 1902, or even earlier, maybe, and the worn spots could trip you up. The last thing she needed was a broken leg. No way to help her sisters if she was laid up in a cast.

The third floor was dark, quiet, and silent. Ivory hesitated, not sure if she should check on the party-goers. If Grace were still there—Ivory laughed a little. Of all people, Grace would be just fine.

Ivory crept down the next two flights, pushing down panic. She didn’t like the dark, She’d never liked the dark. She stopped on the first floor. She’d been in the lobby earlier that afternoon when that salesman had checked in. Brad? That was the name he’d given Billy. He’d looked like a pretty decent guy, and Ivory was sucker for a Southern accent. Billy had put him in 13B. If she tapped on his door, maybe he’d be willing to give Billy a hand with the generator.

And maybe not, Ivory thought grimly. She’d watched that sequel to the X FILES and Agent Muldar had it right: Trust No One.

She made it to the lobby, and heart slowed back to normal. A pale light steeped in from the front windows, and she could see Billy at the front desk, slumped over, fast asleep, the slug, oblivious to the blackout. She stepped up to the desk, and thumped her knuckles on the splintered top. “Mr. Beckwith.”

He sat there, unmoving.

“Mr. Beckwith!”

Exasperated, Ivory pulled out her cell phone and switched on the flashlight.

There was a very good reason Billy didn’t answer. He wasn’t asleep.

It looked like he was dead.

 

Author Bio:

 

Mary Stanton is a well-traveled American author known for her children’s fantasy series Unicorns of Balinor and adult mystery series Beaufort & Company. Writing as Claudia Bishop, she authored The Hemlock Falls series.  Born in Florida, raised in Japan and Hawaii, and educated in Minnesota, Mary has lived in the Rochester area since the mid-1970’s. Prior to her writing career, her experiences include being a nightclub singer, medical examiner, claims adjuster, and Director of Volunteer Services. www.marystanton.com

mmwstanton@aol.com

 

Wayne Writers Guild

Meets at 7:30pm – 9:00pm, on the 2nd and 4th. Tuesday of each month

Books, Etc. of Macedon, NY

John Cieslinski, Owner

78 W. Main ST. Macedon NY 14502

Phone 585-474-4116

 

18 Aug 2016, 4:11am
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the Macedonia Hotel, Chapter 5

Macedonia HotelThe Macedonia Hotel

A NANOWRIMO

Relay writing project

 

 

By the Wayne writers Guild

Completed July 2016


The Macedonia Hotel

(This fictional piece is the product of a relay writing project by the Wayne Writer’s Guild In honor of NANOWRIMO-2015.  Any resemblance to real events, people, places, or things is a coincidence and neither intended nor implied to be real and accurate.)

 

 

 

I extend my thanks and gratitude to the contributors who shared their time and talents to make this NANOWRIMO Relay Writing Project possible.

 

The individual chapters are the intellectual property of the author.

 

Special thanks are extended to John Cieslinski for his generous use of the book store’s back room.

–Kate Chamberlin, Coordinating Editor

July 20, 2016

 

 

Wayne Writers Guild

Meets at 7:30pm – 9:00pm, on the 2nd and 4th. Tuesday of each month

Books, Etc. of Macedon, NY

John Cieslinski, Owner

78 W. Main ST. Macedon NY 14502

Phone 585-474-4116

 

chapter 5

The Crystal Dragon

By Alex Rea

 

The Macedonia Hotel is the best place to be if you want to hear tales about the yesteryear and the people that formerly dwelled in that location. The woman in room number eight, Mrs. Bonnie Black, was the original proprietress of the edifice. One can resolve that she stays around hoping for someone to restore the hotel to its early glory. She often said that the hotel was one of the best things to happen to the area.

In that location, with the Canal nearby, there is a great deal more story to add to the stories one might try. Not everyone is able to hear the stories, but to the ones that do they are unforgettable. tales are narrated by the spirits that inhabit the building and the surrounding regions. They are telling us about their lives and how life was way back when.

There is a young lady that sits in a rocking chair that has been seen rocking her baby, making sure no one can take her away. They died in the cold of a harsh winter, asleep in the chair. To this day some can still see the chair moving when no one is in it. Off of the upper balcony, some can see the gallows where many were hanged. Because the wrong person was put to death, none that was hung can successfully move on. The person who did the crimes, had gotten away, never to be caught.

The judge that had tried them had lost his mind completely and was put into an insane asylum. He passed half a dozen years in the mental institution and finally committed suicide. He returned to the hotel as the most familiar place from when he was alive.

If you can hear them talk about their stories, you hear the same theme: It was the judge. The Judge is the soul that performed all the crimes, that is the reason he lost his mind. The people he had condemn to death was for profit. They were forever telling him what was going to occur to him after he died. He did not believe them at all.

The best story though, is about two women often seen in the great room having tea. These women were iconic to the area as they both had wealthy husbands and were a contributing influence to the Palmyra- Macedon area. They are Bonnie Black, the original owner of the Hotel and Mrs. Barbara Blocket, lady of the famous Blocket House in Palmyra. When these ladies get together for tea in their dresses and gloves, it is a sight to see. Mrs. Blocket often can be heard talking about how her house has undergone many changes throughout the years. The last time they were spotted having tea, they were speaking about the people that live in or utilize the buildings that used to be theirs. Mrs. Blocket smiles at the music that is being put back into her place. Her house is being filled with love and light as the Spark Of her former church’s Congregation has given the old house life again. She is delighted with the direction they are conducting themselves within her sacred space and are using up the riff-raff off the streets by spreading the love and light into the community the way that she used to. The dead are no longer in the streets.

The lady of the Hotel says to Mrs. Blocket, that they have done the same for her space in Macedon as well.

They walk through the Butterfly Trail to see what has been done to clean the place up. It was a place to picnic by the water and see the boats go through the channels and Canal Locks. I know that when I hear their stories, I am going back through time right there with them.

Others at the Hotel are from all walks of life. There’s some good and some bad. They are the ones to watch out for as they can drain every single drop of energy from your body to manifest themselves. One of them is named Jason.

Jason, his wife and child, and his wife’s sister all shared a room that was barely big enough for even one individual. Jason had cancer while he was still alive. They went from room to room doing drugs with other past tenants. They consume the life force out of people without them knowing. This brought out the big guns rather recently when one traveler stopped in. This mortal, not knowing their birthright or where he hailed from was unbeknownst to him and others, very powerful in magic.

He was losing time from being drained by Jason. When it was found out, a stronger force was sent in to protect him. This would have been to be considered an unlikely love story, considering that both bodies were male. But the force that was sent in has many people and spirits within the individual physical structure.

One being from 1890, she is very beautiful, with period dress and gloves of white. It was explained that a woman from that time period could not let her ankles be seen or marriage was a must by the man who had seen them.

The courting started slow at first, and then Sir Robert regained his memory, from another life that he had been. The woman was none other than his darling wife Maria, just as he had remembered her. Sir Robert has experienced many lives because he is a Dragon in human form and because the dragons are all but gone from this world, a very special gift was bestowed upon Maria. She had been granted the gift of becoming a Crystal Dragon.

 

Author Bio:

Alexander Rea is a 50-year-old man. He was born in Chambersburg, PA. Grew up in Moss Point, MS for part of his life, then moved to Shippensburg, PA. Presently, he lives in NY. In a master’s program for alternative medicine. He writes short stories to relax.

magicwillow365@gmail.com

 

Wayne Writers Guild

Meets at 7:30pm – 9:00pm, on the 2nd and 4th. Tuesday of each month

Books, Etc. of Macedon, NY

John Cieslinski, Owner

78 W. Main ST. Macedon NY 14502

Phone 585-474-4116

 

 

11 Aug 2016, 8:08am
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Comments Off on The Macedonia Hotel, Chapter 4

The Macedonia Hotel, Chapter 4

Macedonia HotelThe Macedonia Hotel

A NANOWRIMO

Relay writing project

 

 

By the Wayne writers Guild

Completed July 2016


The Macedonia Hotel

(This fictional piece is the product of a relay writing project by the Wayne Writer’s Guild In honor of NANOWRIMO-2015.  Any resemblance to real events, people, places, or things is a coincidence and neither intended nor implied to be real and accurate.)

I extend my thanks and gratitude to the contributors who shared their time and talents to make this NANOWRIMO Relay Writing Project possible.

The individual chapters are the intellectual property of the author.

Special thanks are extended to John Cieslinski for his generous use of the book store’s back room.

–Kate Chamberlin, Coordinating Editor

July 20, 2016

 

Wayne Writers Guild

Meets at 7:30pm – 9:00pm, on the 2nd and 4th. Tuesday of each month

Books, Etc. of Macedon, NY

John Cieslinski, Owner

78 W. Main ST. Macedon NY 14502

Phone 585-474-4116

 

Chapter 4

A Light in the Darkness

By Kc Meyer

 

Ivory made her way carefully toward the door to get away from the crowded apartment and dangers it held. She wished she could take her friends with her and get away from it all.

“These people are driving me crazy” she muttered to herself. “All I wanted to do was get away from home…the yelling, the screaming, the beatings, the mess, the drudgery and the people who never really cared whether I lived or died, and what do I end up getting myself into? Social Services seemed to think that a rundown, filthy, two bit, flop house was some kind of a solution! I would have been fine if they had let me go with my real dad as I pleaded for them to do.  This place is full of dirty old…reprobates.”

That made Ivory smile a bit. Vocabulary was her forte…she loved to read and write.  Mrs. Scotsman, her English teacher, had been the one who encouraged her to pursue her literary gift. Now she was lucky if she could find a quiet, safe place to study at all.  She quickly stopped talking to herself when she saw Randy. They were both Seniors in school.  He’d also been here before. He was a really nice guy but he didn’t always choose the best friends to hang around with.  Ivory saw that he was walking toward the door with Grace, Sandy’s younger sister. Grace was using her white cane.

“She doesn’t belong with that crowd” she thought.  “I hope he watches out for her.”

As she inched closer to the door, through the boisterous, inebriated and sometimes lecherous crowd, Ivory noticed that Grace looked ill and scared.  She also looked young and vulnerable. But at least Randy seemed to be leaving with her. Thank goodness.  Soon they were out the door.

A protective instinct washed over Ivory as she thought about her younger sisters at home.  She missed them so much sometimes she could hardly stand it.   She worried about them all the time and took every chance she could get to see them at school text them or meet up with them when they weren’t at that house she used to call home.  She wasn’t allowed to go there, not that she had done anything wrong. But her mother was so afraid and dominated by her abusive boyfriend, and he was so clever at being a conniving fun drunk, that she chose to believe him over her daughters.  One of these days she was going to change all that for her sisters.  He was so cruel when he was drunk.  He’d hit them as well as emotionally abused them; they were all scarred.  She was now an emancipated minor and able to make decisions about her own life with approval of her social worker, but in a few months she would be 21 and old enough to sue for custody of her much younger sisters.  She had plenty of evidence and knew she could count on her social worker to help.  She intended to raise them right. She had already talked to Social Services about it and had even met with a Legal Aid lawyer to find out what her options were.  The plan was in the works.  Just a few more months and she would be of age and then she would begin the long process. But what chance were they going to have if she couldn’t make a good enough living to support them?

She needed to graduate and find a good job while going to college part time. It was all about her sisters now. Somehow she was going to get them out of that house.

“In the meantime maybe I can at least keep this girl out of danger” she said to herself.  “I’m going to talk to Randy on Monday and see what I can do to convince him to watch out for her.

Finally, Ivory also slid out the door and into the dark hallway, able to head, unseen, for the stairs and then to the cupola. If there was one place in this flea-bitten excuse for a hotel where she felt safe, it was in the cupola. Oddly enough, everyone else stayed as far away from there as possible…it was rumored to be haunted. Actually, Ivory knew it was haunted because she had met the woman who haunted it.

As a matter of fact, they had become great friends.  Ivory went there during the week after she was finished with school for the day and done with her shift at Hamburger Hut.  She often bought her supper before she left for the evening and took it with her up to the cupola.  She had set up a cozy niche with a lamp and old overstuffed chair she found, where she could curl up and study without being bothered by anyone.  She only came down when it was safe to be in her own room…except tonight some jerks had decided she and her suite mates were fair game.  Well, tough luck boys…you can say whatever you want about us but we know the truth and someday, when all of this is behind me and I am in a college dorm studying my heart out, your misadventures and disgusting, misogynistic behavior will be great fodder for my first and highly successful novel. The thought of that put a small smile on her face.

Ivory reached the cupola and there she was…her only true earthly, or should we say “other-worldly” friend, The Lady in the Cupola. She was staring out the eights in the window, hovering a foot or so above the floor, and when she turned, she smiled beatifically  at  Ivory as tears shimmered down her translucent face.

“Ah, my friend, I see you have escaped the throng of revelers and, what do you call them…”reprobates” unscathed, yet again.”

“Yes, and I truly get so sick and tired of it. But it won’t last forever.  Someday, not too long from now…”

her voice trailed off. She didn’t need to finish her sentence.  The Lady knew all about her and her life, her sisters, her hopes and her dreams.  They had been friends since the first Saturday evening they met when Ivory escaped the first wild party someone decided to hold in the suite.

“You’re crying, my lady.  What can I do to help?”

“Oh my dear young friend, you are so dear and so sweet.  With all you have to worry about, you fret over my tears.”

“You are the best friend that I have,” smiled Ivory.  “And I want to help you however I can.”

“It’s my same concern, the one we’ve talked about ever since we met.  But it seems to be getting worse. The thing we have to do is change this run down, dilapidated, sad, sad hotel back into the glorious inn that it was when I first opened its doors over 125 years ago.” the lady sighed.  “How can we do that, dear, lovely friend?  What can we do to find the beauty, hope, joy and kindness that once inhabited these rooms?  How do we bring back the fellowship, respect and camaraderie that once made this hotel the shining star of the Finger Lakes area? How do we do that, my dear, dear girl?”

“Well, we will find a way, my Lady, we will.  I know you won’t rest until we do and I will help you. Just as I won’t rest until I get my sisters to a safe place and just as this town won’t be prosperous or happy again until we turn some things around. “Actually”, said Ivory, I have a plan.  “It’s only in the planning stages, but I think it just might work. ”

“Then you’d best get busy with your studies my friend, because the future lies in the hands of you and people like you who can mold it and make the world better. You won’t be able to do anything for the Macedonian, for me, for you or for your sisters if you don’t graduate.  And there will be a reckoning for those who have destroyed this beautiful place.  Oh, I don’t mean to do anything horrible or violent…but I do have some thoughts on how to rid ourselves of unwelcome and unwanted…”

“Reprobates” they both said simultaneously, laughing as they did so.

At that, the Lady vanished and Ivory switched on her laptop and began to review what she had written:

“The Macedonia Hotel was a charming, three story hotel with a beautiful wrap-around porch, gardens overflowing with color and draperies hanging at the windows made of the finest damask.  It was a jewel of hotels in the upstate region of New York State, in a quaint little village not far from Rochester.  But in the ensuing years, it was ruined by “reprobates.”  Until, one moonlit night, a face peering out through the windows in the shape of 1888 was illuminated for all to see.  Startling many, it only held mystery and intrigue for the girl from the Third Floor.  She knew she had literally found a kindred spirit.”

 

Author Bio:

Kc Meyer has lived in Wayne County most of her grown up life, but she’s been writing since she was in grade 2. Prose, poetry and short essays are her favorite genres.  She and her husband/best friend live on a farm in Wayne County. Kc was happy to join WWG in 2006 and has published with the Guild in three collective anthologies.

(contact information withheld upon request)

 

Wayne Writers Guild

Meets at 7:30pm – 9:00pm, on the 2nd and 4th. Tuesday of each month

Books, Etc. of Macedon, NY

John Cieslinski, Owner

78 W. Main ST. Macedon NY 14502

Phone 585-474-4116

 

 

4 Aug 2016, 4:14am
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Comments Off on The Macedonia Hotel, Chapter 3

The Macedonia Hotel, Chapter 3

The Macedonia Hotel

A NANOWRIMO

Relay writing project

Macedonia Hotel

 

By the Wayne writers Guild

Completed July 2016


The Macedonia Hotel

(This fictional piece is the product of a relay writing project by the Wayne Writer’s Guild In honor of NANOWRIMO-2015.  Any resemblance to real events, people, places, or things is a coincidence and neither intended nor implied to be real and accurate.)

 

 

 

I extend my thanks and gratitude to the contributors who shared their time and talents to make this NANOWRIMO Relay Writing Project possible.

 

The individual chapters are the intellectual property of the author.

 

Special thanks are extended to John Cieslinski for his generous use of the book store’s back room.

–Kate Chamberlin, Coordinating Editor

July 20, 2016

 

 

Wayne Writers Guild

Meets at 7:30pm – 9:00pm, on the 2nd and 4th. Tuesday of each month

Books, Etc. of Macedon, NY

John Cieslinski, Owner

78 W. Main ST. Macedon NY 14502

Phone 585-474-4116

 

Chapter 3

Stranger in a Strange Town

By Jeffrey Thomas Cook

 

The road had grown somewhat narrower and the sunlight had long drifted behind the horizon. Bradley Bemiss had been driving much longer than he had planned that day. On his way from Syracuse, he was disappointed that he hadn’t quite made it to Rochester yet. But his eyes had started to lose their focus and the Town of Macedon looked friendly enough to stop and spend the night; ‘if’ he could locate a Holiday Inn, Best Western or something of that sort.

After a few fruitless miles, he had just about reached the outskirts of town when the lurid and indecorous sign of the “Macedonia Hotel” happened to catch his weary, bleary eyes. The snowflakes were falling now and for lack of a better choice, Bradley pulled into the patched parking lot and located an available parking spot.

Despite the hotel’s unattractively rugged exterior, much to his surprise, the Macedonia Hotel actually appeared to be teeming with life. As the old saying goes, the more the merrier! However Bradley had the overwhelmingly odd feeling that he had perhaps made an error in his choice of lodging. He never really enjoyed traveling outside of his home state of South Carolina. Still, being a road warrior salesman for the Southern Belle’s Clothing Company, he had been on many a sojourn to the north. How bad could this place be?

Before he had even made it to the front door, Bradley needed to stop short, as an empty soda bottle skimmed loudly across the walk in front of him. In the dark of the cold night, it appeared that it had come out of nowhere. It wasn’t 10 minutes earlier that an aggressive driver had cut him off on Main Street., not to mention the three deer that nearly took out his Prius two minutes after that; this place certainly seemed to have Bradley in its sights. Nonetheless, he couldn’t wait to get to his room, throw himself down on a clean mattress and unwind before bed.

The front desk attendant seemed more interested in his NY scratch & win tickets then he was anything else. As Bradley stood at the counter, he made every effort to make himself noticed. After he rapped his knuckles and vehemently cleared his throat, the unshaven man grunted something unintelligible to his potential patron.

Bradley considered walking back out the door when the man put down his tickets and his dirty scratching penny and spat out, “One room?”

“That would be just fine,” quipped Bradley. “I’m from out of town. I’ve been on the road most of the day and really just need a place to finally lay my head down.”

Billy squinted, “Yer a country boy, aren’t ya? I could tell by your accent.”

It always amazed Bradley how many people from the north proudly identified his accent before he could actually utter two sentences, because in this neck of the woods, it really was about as obvious as a pumpkin in a strawberry patch. Yet they would always amuse him with their keen knowledge anyway.

Pointing over his shoulder to the worn room key wall behind him, Billy uttered, ”Yer in luck, I got two rooms left.” He turned, “You say you want just one roo?

Bradley looked around, winced and nodded, “I’m pretty tall and all but, yeah, I’m pretty sure I can fit into just one room, sir.”

Billy nonchalantly gestured past Bradley, “Just thought that one might be with you….”

Bradley turned his head, roughly 10 feet behind him, there appeared to be a remarkably young and sullen-looking girl staring at him. She did not avert her stare when Brad turned and looked at her. She seemed to be clueless and without inhibition. Bradley had an uncomfortable feeling that he had walked into a really odd, modern episode of the Twilight Zone.

He turned and stated, “I’m sorry, sir, she’s not with me. I’ve never seen her before.”

“Well, I have,” Billy spat. “She lives here in Macedon, and she’s here with a bunch of other kids. There’s a little gathering goin’ on here. Since you ain’t from around here, I guess you haven’t noticed.” He paused and looked at the clock on the wall behind him. “Don’t worry, them kids oughta’ be outta’ here by … 1 or 2 am.”

Bradley grunted with some disappointment.

Billy continued, “Why don’t you take room 13B. Between rooms 13A and 13B, people tend to complain a lot less about 13B.” Willy offhandedly snorted and turned back to his quick win games.

Bradley exhaled. ”Okay, let me go to my car and grab my cell phone before I head in.” Looking over his shoulder to see if the girl was still lurking, he saw no sign of her and wasn’t quite sure if that was a really good thing or a really bad thing. He turned back to Billy & asked, “Do you, by chance, have a porter or a bagboy to help me out, sir?”

Billy forced a wince and scoffed, “Everyone’s got a dream, son. Everyone’s GOT a dream.”

Bradley stared at him for a moment. He started for his car and quipped, “I will take that as a NO.”

When outside, he unlocked his car and snatched up his phone. Bradley had noticed one thing about this sparkling town they called “Macedon”; people here were a bit short on southern hospitality. This was a no nonsense kind of place.

He locked his car up tight and trudged back to the hotel entrance. This time around he couldn’t help but notice the distant rumble of some over-played Bad Company song as teens’ voices crackled from high up above. The snow had quickened and Bradley instinctively looked up to see four or five girls having a belch competition on the roof of the fine establishment. This place, to his recollection, was a lot more interesting than anything he had ever encountered. Macedon was enticing yet somehow … forbidden.

Bradley had almost reached the building front when something caught his eye.  The hotel had a huge tower; a cupola, if you will. Its grandeur seemed slightly out of character, but what really seemed to unnerve him were the garish and unsightly numbers scrawled under it. “Est. 1888”. It was an ‘old’ building, no question, but what made matters worse, was when he stopped and stared hard at the numbers. There appeared to be something moving up there; between the 8’s. Something or someone was actually in the cupola. Brad shuddered.

His attention was broken by two unwieldy and apparently inebriated teen boys who nearly knocked him over from behind. They brushed past him as they darted into the front door of the Macedonia Hotel. Bradley thought it best to get inside unscathed before he got bounced onto his Southern Belle keester. He dearly wanted to make it out of this state without contusions, stitches or negative mental hygiene arrests.

Once inside, the lobby now had a collection of more boisterous individuals. From their demeanor, it seemed clear to Bradley that they were quite comfortable in these confines. He pushed his way back to the counter, “If you don’t mind, I’d just like to get my key and call it a night as quickly as possible. I could make mention of some other weird things that are going on with this place, but I’ll just save it for another time.”

Billy seemed preoccupied. Nonetheless, he methodically turned, grabbed the key to 13B and dropped it on the old wooden counter. Bradley took the key, made sure to put it in his pocket.

Billy mumbled, “That’ll be $50.00 cash, son. No checks, no plastic.”

Bradley cocked his head, frowned and fumbled into his pocket. He fished out the fee for one night’s stay and plopped it in front of Billy. “Y’all have a great night now.”

Bradley turned with his baggage, but then stopped. “Hey, one last thing, sir…” Billy huffed and waited irritably with one eyebrow raised. Bradley continued, “Why does it seem like some of these people – I don’t know…” He looked back and forth uncomfortably, “Um, well it seems like some of these folks…live here?”

Billy had fielded this question before. And without hesitation, he flatly exclaimed, “Son, you can check out from this hotel at ANY time, but, you are correct, some of these people never really leave.”

 

Author Bio:

Jeff Cook worked for fourteen years at the Town of Penfield scripting many meaningful productions as well as some entertaining narratives. Upon resignation, he’s flourished as a freelance contractor, writer and multi-media 3-D artist. Through the Macedon Players, he is currently finishing editing of an original script for a full-length stage play with the working title of “Cake and Brandy”. He is proud and honored to have contributed to the Wayne Writers Guild’s most recent collaborative work.

jeffreythomascook@gmail.com

 

Wayne Writers Guild

Meets at 7:30pm – 9:00pm, on the 2nd and 4th. Tuesday of each month

Books, Etc. of Macedon, NY

John Cieslinski, Owner

78 W. Main ST. Macedon NY 14502

Phone 585-474-4116