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.