I saw them on the mountainside, three of them.
It was dark, but they were bright figures- I even remarked to someone, “Look at those people,” and they just laughed at me.
“Anyone out there would freeze to death.”
Yet, I stood at the window and watched them.
The figures were getting closer, and they shone in the frosty moonlight.
I spent the rest of the evening trying to put them out of my mind, but even as I listened to the singer in the ballroom, all I could think about was them; marching inexorably towards the hotel.
I write this now as they approach the driveway.
I can see them as clearly as they can see me, standing in the window, my mouth agape in raw, naked fear. They have seen that I see them.
I know now that they are the spirits of the lost; luminous skeletal beings. They see me so well.
I know they are in the hotel now.
They are silently climbing the stairs.
I cannot run. Where would I go?
Someone is knocking on the door. A slow, rapping that fills me with dread.
Please let this be a dream.
The man with no face is at the end of the hall.
Hidden in the bible.