Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are
asked to get creative in 250 words or less using
the photo below as inspiration. This is my story.
Tag: Hotel
Our Little Rendezvous
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are asked
to get creative in 250 words or less using the photo
prompt below for inspiration. Here is my story.
“Woods. Roger Woods. Please check again” I implored the desk clerk at the Hotel Moderne.
“I’m sorry, madame, there is no reservation for that name.” The young man looked at me with a mixture of embarrassment and pity.
“You must be mistaken” I replied, my voice shaking.
“There is no mistake, madame. Perhaps you have the wrong hotel” the clerk suggested, offering me an out.
Of course I didn’t have the wrong hotel! Roger and I had been meeting here the second weekend of every month for three years.
I checked my phone for missed text messages or calls from Roger; there were none. Rather than stay in the lobby looking distraught and abandoned, I sat in the lounge and ordered a martini. I had a clear view of the front desk on the left and the entrance on the right. I’d be able to see Roger the moment he arrived.
After thirty minutes and two martinis, I began feeling paranoid. It was painfully obvious, at least to me, that I looked like a lonesome and tedious woman who had been stood up.
I became aware of someone approaching. Expecting to see Roger, I looked up, smiling; it was the concierge. Whispering discreetly, he handed me a note: “Dearest Cecile. I cherish our little rendezvous but it’s time to go our separate ways. Farewell. Roger”
‘Our little rendezvous!‘ I was shattered. Just like that, as unexpectedly as it began, it was over.
Looking straight ahead, I gracefully exited the hotel.
NAR©2024
250 Words
This is “Non, Je ne regrette rien (No, I do not regret anything)” by Edith Piaf
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
THE REGISTER
“Gallagher’s B&B, a beautiful old Georgian country house in Tipperary, set in lovely wooded grounds and gardens. A warm welcome combined with superb food make this gracious house a tranquil refuge for those on honeymoon, couples celebrating a golden anniversary or anyone looking for that special opportunity to get away from it all! You’ll rest peacefully at Gallagher’s!” recited my bride Fiona breathlessly.
“How do you do that??” I asked for the fiftieth time since we met.
“I can’t help having a photographic memory! It’s a blessing and a curse!” she laughed.
It had been raining lightly and getting accustomed to driving on the other side of the road was challenging. As we turned the bend, the B&B appeared before us looking exactly like something out of a Thomas Moore poem. Just then the sun broke through the clouds, a rainbow in its wake.
“Look, Dylan! A rainbow! declared Fiona excitedly. “I’m going to make a wish!”
I chuckled at her childlike enthusiasm. We entered the old but immaculate building and a kindly lady was there to greet us at the front desk. “I’m guessing you’re the Colcannons. I’m Kathleen. Welcome! Would you be kind enough to sign the register?”
Fiona giddily signed the guest book. “Ah, newlyweds! There’s no mistaking that glow about ya, lass” Kathleen said, smiling broadly. “Our last guests departed yesterday so you’ll have the whole place to yourselves.” Handing us the key to our room, we were informed that dinner would be served at 7pm.
Our room was charming with a view of the rear gardens. Just before dinner we checked out the library. It was small but offered a variety of books from ‘Time Travelers’ to the writings of Diogenes. Dinner was phenomenal – leek and potato soup for starters, then Kathleen’s own creation called Guinness beef and onion pot pie. Dessert was an amazing apple crisp with vanilla bean ice cream and a perfectly brewed cup of coffee. Exhausted and full, we retired early, looking forward to sightseeing in the morning.
The next day we were served a traditional Irish breakfast of eggs, bacon, hash, toast, marmalade and Lyons Tea. “I’m stuffed! You up for a walk?” I asked Fiona, and off we went exploring. Typical of Ireland, the day was overcast and as we walked along the path we came upon a cemetery. Slowly we weaved our way among the headstones, reading aloud the names as we went along.
“This is one for the record book of coincidences” said Fiona. “Yesterday when I signed the register I remember seeing the name ‘Guinness’ and dinner was Guinness pot pie. Another name in the register was ‘Lyons’ and this morning at breakfast we had Lyons Tea. And now here are two headstones with those very same names! That’s truly incredible!”
“It’s just your photographic memory working overtime, Fiona. Both those names are pretty common here. I don’t think it’s terribly incredible, luv.”
Fiona gave me a playful shove and we continued our walk. Strolling by the gardens, we discovered Kathleen busily gathering vegetables. “Why, if it isn’t Mr. & Mrs. Colcannon out for a morning stroll”. She proudly showed us the potatoes she’d just dug up. “For tonight’s dinner”, she explained. “A combination of mash with bacon and cabbage cooked together in butter and blended with a lovely ladle-full of cream.”
“Oh, my goodness! That sounds delicious!” declared Fiona “What’s it called?”
Kathleen looked up at us from her crouched position. “Why, I reckon it’s a name you’re quite familiar with.” Then, moving very swiftly for a large woman, she jumped up and began hacking wildly with her machete! Grinning like a madwoman, she shrieked “It’s called Colcannon!”
The last thing I remember seeing was my darling Fiona’s head roll to the ground. I was felled by an excruciating pain in my neck while Kathleen cackled hideously. Then the whole world went black.
NAR © 2023
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THE WALK
One day while on vacation in Montauk, we watched as a woman emerged from her hotel room. She told her young son she was going for a walk by the ocean and to stay with the other kids by the pool. We said we’d keep an eye on the boy and she murmured her thanks. The boy watched his mother walk down the beach until she disappeared behind a sand dune.
Some time later, the boy jumped up yelling “Where’s my mom?! I can’t see my mom!” The boy became frantic and ran toward the beach. Families followed, scouring the area with binoculars. Lifeguards, police and the Coast Guard were called and searched until dark when the hunt was postponed until morning. Jeff and Nina Morgan, the hotel owners, comforted the boy and watched him overnight.
At dawn the search began again. In the afternoon, the woman’s clothes were found about a mile away, neatly folded and almost completely buried in the sand. Beachgoers and boaters were questioned and a helicopter surveyed the ocean with no luck. The mission was halted. When the police talked to the boy, he tearfully explained that his dad was gone and his mom was very sad. We all had the same dreadful thought: suicide.
The boy told the police his name and address; a few phone calls were made, unanswered questions resolved. The father had abused his wife and son, beating the boy terribly. To save her son, the mother attacked the father, hitting him over the head with a fireplace poker, killing him. The boy said his mother cried for the healing waters of Montauk. He had no relatives and after petitioning the courts, the Morgans were granted custody.
The disappearance of the woman was a ghastly experience for everyone yet most of us returned to the hotel the following summer, I think in part to check on the boy. We learned his name was Tobias but the Morgans called him Toby.
We were delighted to see he was physically thriving under the loving care of his adopted family but the emotional scars were deep. And every day Toby would walk down the beach to where the water meets the sand and stare off at the footprints in the distance.
NAR © 2023
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