The Story Teller

Once a year near Halloween

at and old historic hotel called the Mission Inn,

so legendary for ghost and eerie inexplicable happenings,

would hold a special fund raiser for a local need

that they would call the “Ghost walk.”

 

Down dimly lit alabaster corridors

people would be lead by a mourner dressed guide,

to some corner or other cavity of spooky feel

where a story teller would share a ghostly tale,

always clad in black and looking so creepy

words spoken in scary descriptions

made the icy fingers climb the spine.

 

And adding to the sense of specters everywhere

were the sounds of moans and pleas for help

in such deep haunting sounds

as they came from unseen sources

out of bushes and shadows.

 

On our journey we stopped to hear one old woman

she looked so ashen and never stared as us in the eyes,

spoke a story about an aging maid at the hotel

who had fallen down some stairs

and broke her neck then died about midnight,

next evening seen again

still walking her round to clean.

 

I could sense the fear in that guide,

something was truly wrong,

quickly she rushed along to the next spot,

but I came back for a peak,

shocked to see the woman had vanished!

 

Words whispered between guides

before that spot was not on the walk again.

When I went into the hotel lobby

so I could use their restroom

on the wall were photographs

from the past

they had images of people who had worked there.

 

My heart nearly stopped when I saw the one

who was of the woman who told that tale,

only the date on the frame said 1923!

With shivers I walked towards the bathroom

truly in need of being relieved!