“Frustrating,” his answer was low.
“So you’re here to get away from it?”
This time, he gave me his full attention. And I mean he really looked at me. Like if he looked hard enough, he could see all my secrets.
“Maybe,” he said at last. Then, “What are you getting away from?”
And just like that, the conversation flipped. My mouth opened, but no words came out.
“During their visit,” Archie’s words saved me from having to answer Noah’s boomerang question, “King had a vivid nightmare about his young son being chased down the hotel corridors by a fire hose. He woke up, smoked a cigarette, and the idea for The Shining was born. Both the novel and its film adaptation went on to become classics of the horror genre.”
He let the weight of that sink in before adding, “And if you really want the full Stanley Hotel experience, you’re in luck. Stephen King’s preferred version of The Shining plays on a continuous loop on channel forty-two in every room—a little late-night treat for the brave.”
“Yeah, no,” I spoke up without checking myself.
“Same,” Noah surprised me by adding.
As the tour moved on, even as the dimly lit halls stretched ahead of us, with Noah’s presence right behind me, I forced myself to pay attention to the tour.
By now, we were climbing yet another staircase, this one creaky and narrow.
“Careful now, Roger.” Helen had her hand on Roger’s arm as he aimed his camera—Minnie—toward the ceiling.
“More than a century ago, this floor was a cavernous attic. It’s where female employees, children, and nannies stayed. Today, it’s been converted into guest rooms—several of which your group has been lucky enough to snag. Going back decades, guests have reported hearing children running around, laughing, and playing at all hours of the night.”
“There’s my room, number four-zero-five,” Babs whispered, pointing it out, and then she leaned closer, her voice conspiratorial. “Maybe Morty will pop in for a visit,” she said with a wink.
The group slowed as Archie paused outside another room. “Room four-zero-one,” he announced.
Archie read the look on my face.
“Your room tonight?”
“Apparently,” I said, hugging my arms around myself.
My nerves were already a little shredded. Between Ed and Roger’s medical debates, Babs talking about Morty at the chapel, and how much all of it reminded me of my dad…
“Lucky you.” Archie gave a mischievous grin. “This one’s especially active. There are reports of whispers, doors opening on their own, and the closet? It tends to swing open right as guests are drifting off to sleep.”
Perfect.
The hallway lights flickered, as if on cue, and while Denise squealed about capturing an orb in one of her photos, a chill crept over my skin.
Archie clapped his hands. “Now…the basement. Follow me, and step carefully. Beneath the hotel, there’s a network of underground caves made of limestone and quartz…”
I didn’t hear the rest. Not really. My brain had started to fuzz at the edges, everything slowing like static.
After that, it was mostly a blur.
I walked. I nodded. I laughed when others laughed.
But the whole time, I could feel the weight of the day pressing down—everything I’d felt, said, remembered.
My mom. My dad. Noah.
I hadn’t expected this. I thought I’d just be getting over Leo.
It was …a lot.
