I Want To Be a Writer

The sun had set and night was falling. Steve was carrying a bag full of copies of his latest story, On the Verge. He entered the well-lit lobby the bed-and-breakfast and headed straight for the dining room.

”Hey there, Steve,” said Mrs. Lawrence, the owner. She was alone in the room, making sure the table was ready before guests come down for dinner.

”Hello, Mrs. L. I was wondering if you would be interested in supporting a young writer."

"Another one of your stories, Steve? You bet."

"Thanks, they’re a cent a copy."

"Here you go.”

Steve put the shiny coin in his pocket and was about to say goodbye, when he heard the noise of furniture being moved upstairs.

”Darn that thing again,” said Mrs. Lawrence.

”What is it? Redecorating, Mrs. L.?"

"No, that’s the weirdest thing. There is nobody up in that wing. I’ve already had Billy check it. There is literally nobody up there, and no furniture is ever out of place."

"There it goes again,” said Steve. The noise had a mournful quality to it. It was kind of human.

”It always starts when it gets dark outside. The most peculiar thing. If i was superstitious, I would… I’m not sure what I would do."

"What do you think it is?” said Steve.

”I’m sure it’s just old wooden beams creaking when the heat of the day evaporates. Nothing to worry about.”

Steve put his ear against the wall. “Do you have a lot of crawlspaces here, Mrs. L.?"

"I don’t really know, Steve. My late husband knew everything about this house, but not me."

"Do you mind if I check it out?” he said, pointing up.

Mrs. Lawrence looked worried, but she agreed, so Steve climbed the creaky stairs and came into the dark hallway. There were no lights on, since there were no guests. There had to be a light switch, but he did not see it. He thought about going back down to get a light, but he knew he would not climb back up if he did. He did not know why he decided to come up here anyway. He was a chicken.

He decided to stare into the dark a little bit to let his eyes get used to it. He did not want to start feeling for the light switch and break a vase or something.

He stared into the darkest spot intently, until he started to make out the difference between the wallpaper and the dark panelling. The corridor led straight to a massive black door. There were doors on the sides, but Steve would deal with them when he could make out where the light switch was. For now, he was using the dark door as a point of focus.

As his eyes got used to the dark more, he was able to make out the switch, about five feet into the corridor. He stepped forward, and then suddenly stopped.

He would swear there was a little white face looking at him through a crack in the door ahead. The face blinked twice.

Steve turned around, trying as hard as he could not to run, and walked downstairs.

The guests from the other wing had started to come down for dinner. They were talking to each other and to Mrs. Lawrence, who was welcoming them in the dining room. Steve breathed easy, surrounded by fellow humans. He nodded at Mrs. Lawrence goodbye, she waved her hand with a smile, but a little surprised too.

Never mind that, Steve thought, as he stepped out into the night. Time to head home, do homework for tomorrow.

As was walking away, he glanced back at the old bed-and-breakfast hardly visible behind the treeline. He thought he wanted to write scary stories.

Posted by: Paweł Kowaluk