Unlike how our conversation over tea the previous day flowed animblely, today's conversations - if any - were more shorter and less... agreeable. The topics were simple answer questions like 'How has your day been?', 'Is the room still to your liking?', and so forth. In between each question was awkward filled silence, as if the two of us were separated by a thick glass wall and neither of us could communicate with one another. I could sense there was something that Mr. Hall wanted to confide me in, but there was an internal war going on in his mind.
Once both of us had our fill, of both tea and biscuits, I excused myself to my room - claiming that I was tired and in need of a short nap before supper. Mr. Hall accepted this answer without question, once again asking if I would be interested in coming to the comedy show tonight.
I declined, feeling a bit remorseful about not accepting his invitation. However, in my mind, I had more important matters that needed my attention - the little girl in the hallway and the strange man knocking on the doors of the second level, for instance. With the idea of asking questions to the hotel's proprietor about what I've witnessed thrown out the window, I would have to get my answers from somewhere else.
Once on my floor, I retreated down the hallway toward my room.
I could feel my mind thinking of possible explanations as well as solutions to what I had witnessed for the past two days.
For starters, the eeriness of the place.
The hotel had been abandoned for some time, it seemed, and all because of these unknown rumors about this so-called 'family curse.' All rumors and lies stemmed from some variation of the truth and there was no argument that two people had died in the hotel - as far as I knew - and one was under mysterious circumstances. My first thought was maybe someone had caught wind of this second death and believed that it was a part of something bigger. Perhaps they thought it was best to alert the rest of the town?
'But where did that leave the little girl, and the strange man? And what about this James? Was 'James' the name of Jimmy Hall's father?' my mind asked.
"Too many questions for my liking," I grumbled reaching my door, my head throbbing from everything.
A nap was beginning to sound quite nice at this point.
Closing the door behind me, I turned to get into the bed when my eyes caught the strange little girl again.
She was still dressed the same way I had seen her - a pale blue dress with ribbon ties in the back and white shoes. She was pale skinned with a slight flush on her cheeks and her dark hair was still tied up into two little ponytails with white ribbons. She was clutching the little pink purse in her hands, stroking the fabric as if it was a lifeline.
"Excuse me," I entered slowly, not wanting to frighten her.
She turned her head toward me, her dark eyes wide.
"Please, I didn't mean to startle you," I began, but the lights flickered before going out. When they turned on again, the little girl was gone.
The purse was back where it was - on top of my book on the bedside table - and there was no indication that there had been anyone else in the room. I rubbed my face, turning away and looking back toward the bed, hoping to trigger something. But the room was still empty, save for me.
Am I seeing things?
I went into the bathroom and wiped down my face with warm water, rubbing the cleaning liquid into my skin. Maybe I was more tired than I thought...
***
Something was knocking on my door.
I opened my eyes - surrounded by darkness with the only light sneaking in from the crack under the door from the hallway. I could hear voices, though muffled, from the other side of the door. I sat up and looked at the clock on the nightstand. It wasn't moving, no sounds came from it. I reached out and tried the lamp, but the bulb refused to work.
I would have to inform Mr. Hall about this.
I stood then, deciding now would be more than a good chance to find him and let him know of my small problem.
Opening the door to my room, I was surprised to see the hotel floor filled with people.
There were families and businessmen - of all ages and sizes - moving about on the floor. Most of the men were dressed in deep colored double-breasted suits with wide ties and patterned shirts with some wearing heavy-looking overcoats. Younger men wore a sort of sports wear with sneakers and light washed denim - some with tears in the knees. Many of the women were wearing pencil-thin dresses, high heels, and large jewelry that expanded across their necks as well as nearly covered their entire wrists or fingers. Other women, much younger, wore off the shoulder sweaters and leggings or a variation with puffed sleeves and oversized belts in all different colors and patterns. The children that ran around the floor wore similar outfits to their parents, but had more bold geometric patterns covering their shirts, jackets, and bottoms.
I looked down at my plain shirt and jeans, figuring that I must look like the odd-ball in the strange crowd of people.
As I left my room, no one seemed to notice me - and if they did, they didn't acknowledge my presence. I took the lift down, thinking that perhaps more people had come to stay with the music and art festival in town.
The ground floor was just as packed as the first floor was - people coming in or going out. Some were standing by the reception desk, checking in no doubt. There were staff members moving about the place as well, some entering the lift with cleaning supplies while others assisting with cases and overnight bags, carrying them up the stairway and to the rooms that were now filling up.
But the entire place had changed!
The walls no longer had peeling wallpaper and the carpets and rugs were clean and dust-free. The photos lining the walls were dusted as well as the tables and lamps. The windows were wiped and soft classical music played from somewhere within the hotel.
Was I dreaming?
"Well, I think that's all, Mr. Bell," I turned as people by the register were finishing up, the voice that was speaking sounding strangely familiar, "You'll be in Room 227, on the second floor."
"Thank you again, Mrs. Hall," the strange man spoke before turning to his wife, "Where's Amy?"
"I think she went into the arcade room with Jimmy," the voice of Mrs. Hall spoke, "He seemed excited to show her around there. She's perfectly safe, and she'll have fun!"
As if on cue, my feet started moving toward the mentioned room.
The room, quite literally, was around the corner from the reception desk. I had passed it a few times before - heading into the auditorium to see Jimmy Hall's comedy act - but had never actually been inside.
The walls were lined with old-style arcade cabinets, the colors bright neon as they flashed in the room. A pool table sat in the far back, surrounded by more arcade cabinets that advertised games like 'Donkey King', 'Dug Dig,' 'Ms Pac-man,' and more. Two children, a boy and a girl, were in the back corner and standing side by side at their respective games - noises from the cabinets and the loud clicking of buttons as they played.
The boy, from behind, was wearing a large striped shirt with deep blue suspenders and black dress pants. His shoes were covered in dirt, no doubt from playing outside before coming back into the building. His thick dark curly covered his entire head and stood out in some places - like it was more frizzy than curly. When he turned to look at the girl beside him, I nearly gasped at the sight of those dark brown eyes.
This had to be Jimmy Hall when he was about ten or so years old.
The girl beside him, Amy I assumed, was the same little girl I had seen in the hallway and in my room - same clothing, same shoes, same everything. The little pink coin purse was on the cabinet nearby as she hit the buttons.
"You're not bad at Froggies," Jimmy was laughing, turning back to his game.
The game sounded it's signature 'Game Over' music sequence as Amy turned to look back at Jimmy, "Yeah, but not nearly as good as you are on Donkey King."
Jimmy laughed again, hitting the buttons with more force as Amy watched from the side.
It was almost cute to see the two of them reacting as Jimmy continued onward. Amy would shout, cheering for Jimmy as he moved the controls quicker and quicker and pressing the button harder and harder. But, in the end, little Jimmy was no match for the game's stats and lost, the music sounding once again in the room.
"Oh, peanut butters!" Amy stamped her foot in frustration, "You almost had it Jimmy!"
"I know, this is the third time I've tried beating it on that level," Jimmy seemed to shrug.
"Do you want to go again?"
"Not really, I just spent most of my allowance in here, and I kind of want to save for a cricket bat. My Uncle Harvey wants to teach me how to play eventually, but said I needed to buy my own equipment for it."
"That kinda sucks," Amy held up her purse, "I just celebrated my birthday last week, so I've got a bit of money if you want to borrow a pence."
Jimmy's demeanor seemed to change. He leaned back against the arcade cabinet, shoving his hands into his pockets and smiling smugly. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he spoke, his voice a little lighter than it had been before, "I have a better idea, Amy."
She raised her brow as he continued, "Why don't we play hide and seek?"
"Hide and seek? Why?"
"Well, let's just say that the basement is filled with good hiding spots and you never know what you can find down there. Who knows? Maybe we'll find a ghost or something."
Amy hesitated.
I watched her expression, wondering what was going on. A part of me already knew what was bound to happen, but it was like watching a movie - everything that was happening now I was powerless to stop. It had already happened, in another life long before I was born.
"Sure, but promise there aren't any spiders down there?"
"I promise. Now, come on!"
***
I stood in the lift, watching as the two children exit to the lowest part of the hotel. Amy had left her purse with Mrs. Hall at the reception desk before coming down, afraid to leave it somewhere and forget about it.
The ground of the lowest floor was covered with dirt and the loud pumping of the boilers were nearly deafening. The walls across from the lift were bricked, thought it seemed as they were just put in - strangely. There were doors on either side of the room as well as a closed door before us.
Jimmy led Amy to the door in front of us, pulling it open, "This way."
"Why in there?" Amy asked.
"It's a bigger room. Plus, Uncle Harvey keeps some old boxes with paperwork and other stuff down here in this room."
"But what about those other doors?" Amy pointed to one end of the hall.
"Mum's office is there, but she doesn't want anyone playing there. Special paperwork and all," Jimmy explained, "And the other door is sealed. My keys won't open that door for whatever reason."
Amy seemed to accept that answer and followed Jimmy through the boiler room doors. I waited in the lift to see what would happen. A scream followed shortly after with Jimmy running out of the boiler room and slamming the door shut.
"Jimmy! Let me out! Jimmy!" Amy was screaming as she pounded on the door.
Jimmy, however, ignored her and pulled an old spare chair and pushed it up against the door. He started laughing hysterically, snickering and gasping for breath.
"Here's a new one! How long does it take to get one out of a locked room?!"
"Jimmy! This isn't funny! Open the door! Please!"
But the boy didn't listen. He was laughing far too hard, too hard for a child his age. He returned to the lift and the two of us descended to the ground floor. It was frightening to see Jimmy in this manner, watching as his eyes glinted and his smile spread across his features in a wicked manner.
"See? Told you it would be fun," he grinned to himself, "That little chit is too stupid to even get out without someone down there to help her."
I blinked hard, feeling tears spring to my eyes, 'Why? Why would you do such a horrible thing?'
But he couldn't hear me.
Once back on the ground floor, he moved quickly to the office that was behind the reception desk. I followed behind, interested in what he was going to do now. Surely he would let his mother know where Amy was?
He knocked on the door before Mrs. Hall's voice beckoned him in.
Mrs. Hall, sitting at her desk, was a stunningly beautiful woman. She was thin and wore a dark navy dress with a large pearl necklace around her neck. Her dark waves, similar to Jimmy's curls, fell around her shoulders, stopping at the neckline of her dress. Her shoes were cream colored, glowing in the darkness for the lower half of the room.
"Mum, Amy wants her coin purse back," Jimmy spoke, clasping his hands behind his back.
Mrs. Hall looked confused, "Why didn't she come in to get it herself?"
"She was heading back up to her room and forgot, I guess. I offered to bring it up for her," the lie seemingly slipped off his tongue.
Although she seemed doubtful, Mrs. Hall pulled open the drawer and handed the purse to her son.
"Now, Jimmy, I have to finish signing a few of these papers alright?" she smiled, closing the drawer back up, "If you would go find your uncle when you have a moment, I would really appreciate it."
"But Uncle Harvey's always hanging around with the guests out back, Mum," Jimmy argued, "Why can't one of the staff members go do it?"
"Because we're short-handed right now. I just need your help for a little bit. If you do as I ask, I'll give you an additional pence for your allowance next week, alright?"
"...Okay."
She stood and kissed her son on the forehead before shooing him out the door, closing it behind him. Jimmy took the purse and slipped back into the arcade.
I watched from the shadows as he dumped the contents of the purse out onto the pool table, coins rolling all over the green felt. He counted each coin, smiling to himself and pocketing the money.
"Seventy-five pence, that's not bad," he giggled to himself.
Somehow, watching as he walked over to another of the arcade games and deposited a few of the stolen coins into the machine, I realized that this was just the beginning of Amy's story.