The Phantom of Liberty

In the St. Range hotel and bar, there are five workers, only five. There is the manager, George Ives; the waitress, Kathy Hunt; the bellboy, Henry Simms; the bartender, August Moore; and finally the attendant, Nathan Brish. At the moment, there are seven guests staying at the hotel. Their names are: Paul Flange, Orville Kanny, Mr. and Mrs. Ghar, Molly Therman, Austin King, and Joseph Washburne. All of these people have one thing in common, and that one thing is what drives them to live.

After arriving, Mr. and Mrs. Ghar decided to go to the bar, leaving their room unattended. When they returned, they found there the dead body of Austin King. Appalled, they first called the manager, who in turn called the police. Once the police arrived, they took names and cleaned up the room, Mr. and Mrs. Ghar left the hotel, never to return(later they both went into a deep depression and killed themselves in their sleep).

That left only ten people in the hotel. Oddly enough, no one except the manager knew what had happened, and he wanted to keep it that way. The next day, Joseph Washburne and Molly Turner met to have a drink.

“How old do you think I am?” Joseph said.
“Old enough for the both of us,” Molly giggled.
“Well, at least I’m not too young for this,” Joseph said raising a glass to toast.
“I second that,” Molly said, meeting Joseph’s glass.
“Listen, about last week-”
“No, Joseph, there’s no need, that’s said and done, and there’s nothing I can do to get it back.”
“I know, but you loved it… aren’t you at least going to try for another?”
“No need, I’ve decided they’re too much work and too much pain. I think it was good that I lost that one… I don’t think it would have lived anyways.”
“Oh well then, would you like to join me tonight?”
“Sure Joseph, I have nothing else to do.”
“Alright then, it’s set.”

Molly and Joseph walked out of the bar leaving August alone. She cleaned the glasses as usual, thinking of the life she could have had, long ago she had a husband, a daughter, a good career… but one day she was framed for murder and sent to jail. Her husband hanged himself, and their daughter was in an orphanage somewhere in Phoenix. She wept, cleaning the tears off the glass as they fell.

That night, Joseph was found dead, this time it looked like suicide. Molly was shaken, there was nothing she had left in the world. The police informed her it was just a suicide, but she pleaded otherwise.

“Joseph was a happy man,” said Molly.”In fact, when he left my room, he was the happiest he had ever been, please look into it some more, please!”
“It is an odd coincidence, ma’am, that two people would be found dead in the same hotel in two nights,” one of the policemen said. “But we have many other cases to work on at this moment, and we can’t investigate a suicide if that’s all we have to go on.”

Molly stayed in her room for the next few days. While she was in there, everything in the hotel seemed to slow down, no one died, no one left, no one had any troubles. It was like nothing happened.

The day Molly came out of her room, she decided to go down to the bar to drown her sorrows. She arrived at the bar only to see the bartender and a few other hotel-goers there.

“I’ll have a whiskey, ma’am,” she said.
“Alright,” August said, handing Molly a glass. “One whiskey.”
“That’s not what I meant, I want the whole bottle, not just a glass, the WHOLE BOTTLE!”
“Calm down! Here!,” August said while passing Molly the bottle.

Molly sat and drank. She drank until she was thoroughly drunk. Then, she decided it would be a good time to talk to everyone, even some people who weren’t there.

“Joseph,” She said. “Some day, me and you are gonna go, we’re just gonna go. We’ll drive until we run out of gas, and we’ll run until we die. We’ll run and run and run and no one will stop us, no one will judge us, no one will interfere. Joseph, I can’t understand what you’re saying! Stop it Joseph, I want to be with you! STOP TELLING ME THIS!”

August could tell tell something was going to happen if she let Molly stay in the bar like that, so she helped her walk to her room. There, she sat Molly on her bed and asked if she wanted to talk. Molly agreed, so August told about her life.

“Many years ago,” She said with hazy eyes. “My husband, Douglas, and I were in a law firm together, we made good money and had a beautiful daughter named Sunny. She was about three when I saw her last saw her. You see, I was in love with another man… Douglas, though he had his moments, was not the best man for me. So, I started having secret meetings with ‘my Romeo’ while my husband was either asleep or out of town.”

“One night while my husband was on another trip, I took him to meet my daughter… it was a dumb mistake, but I though she should at least meet him. Well, when my husband came back from the trip, she told him about the man I was with. He came into our room furious. He asked me what Sunny was talking about and if I was seeing this man behind his back… so I told him the truth.”

“This made him even more angry, so he left, and I never saw him again. Later that night, the police came and arrested me for the murder of my lover, and later that day, my husband committed suicide… Right now, I have no idea where my daughter is or how she’s living, but I have to try and look for her, I have to keep her safe.”

At this point, both August and Molly broke into tears, Molly now had someone to talk to, she now had something left for her. It was late, Molly and August decided to sleep in the same room. In the morning there was only one of them left.

While walking to his room, a small cranny not really fit to house someone, Henry Simms was approached by the manager, George Ives.

“There’s been another death…” The manager said woefully. “I think we may need to close down… I’m sorry.”

“What!? Again! That’s like the third one in a month!”

“Yes, I know, I’m sorry, but if the Hotel closes, I can’t lodge you for free… you’ll have to find a job and home somewhere else.”

“But, no one will hire me, you and everyone else knows my past… the only reason you hired me is because of Mother…”

“You shut up about her!” the manager snapped. “It’s not like I chose that to happen! I’m just a man for goodness sake.”

“So, I guess that gives you a reason to-”

“You shut your mouth! The next words I want to hear are: ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ and nothing more. You say anything else and I’ll have you arrested!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The manager walked away, leaving Henry alone in the hall. He had always been good, but sometimes he had problems, these problems led to trouble, this trouble led to punishment, this punishment led to this situation, this situation led him to want to die, this feeling led to him to have problems, which started the cycle over again. Henry, of course, being a devout Christian would never commit this act, though he did commit other shameful acts, he did not want his God to add that to his list of sins.

When he arrived at his room, he lifted up his bed and pulled the Bible out from under it. Here he sat and read until his dim light had gone out, leaving him in darkness to be awoken to his alarm clock at 5:00AM. When he woke up, he would help with breakfast and then tend to whatever needed to be done, then he would go to his room and start the process over, but that morning, the routine would be broken by the death of yet another.

Police were standing in the lobby when Henry arrived, they were standing over the body of the manager, who had been killed by a chandelier. He was told by police that it was an accident, but that it was strange for so many “accidental” or “suicide” deaths to occur in one month. It was their idea to close down the Hotel until the ceiling was fixed and the case of Austin King had been solved.

No one had any idea what awaited them in Molly’s room, no one had been in or out of it in two days. No one knew there was only one living person in the room.

It was Henry who first opened the door.

______________________________________________________________________________________

And then I woke up.

Another night… another dream. This is the first dream I’ve had in a while, I think I rather enjoyed it. I think dreaming is much better than randomly waking up and not knowing who you are. I’ve always thought that when we sleep we lose a part of ourselves, and when we wake up it is replaced with a broken part, kind of like if a butterfly morphed into a caterpillar slowly. It shows up the old we get, that random white hair, that aching shoulder. When we do happen to get a good night’s sleep and wake up, we’re still not completely ourselves; it takes a little while to get reacquainted with our bodies. No one can wake up and be who they were a few hours ago. Maybe sleep doesn’t actually happen, I myself have experienced many times when I haven’t slept and not felt tired; maybe sleep isn’t needed. Maybe it’s like blinking… a blink that slowly steals you away.

I got out of my bed, wobbled a bit, slowly trying to get back into the flow of things. I went down to my, or should I say my mother’s kitchen. She wasn’t awake yet, in fact no one else in my family was. I got some cereal and some milk, the usual. I sat and slowly ate it.

As I ate, I thought. Thoughts that aren’t at all important. Thoughts that don’t do anything. I hate thinking, I’ve never had a single original thought, no one has. I hate people, every person in this world hates every other person. We were made to be that way, we weren’t made to get along, we were made to pass down genes to new generations, so that they too can live in a crummy world and hate everyone else’s passed down genes. I’m sure my ancestors can vouch for me on this thought… I’m the only thing my great-great-great-great-grandfather has left on this world. Who in this world actually knows their old ancestors? It’s not a necessary thought to live. I need to stop thinking, just in general.

My mother walked into the kitchen. She had on her pyjamas, I could tell she had a hangover. This week, she’s come home late and drunk every night, I think something’s wrong. She made herself a quick cup of coffee, drank it in one sip, and then went onto her next cup. She sat down next to me and poured herself some of the cereal.

“Things are gonna be tough this week,” she said.
“Really now? How come?” I asked.
“Well, I don’t get a pay check until next week, and there’s only $3 in my bank account.”
“So you’re saying that what’s in these drawers is going to have to last all this month…”
“Yeah, because my pay is going directly to the rent.”
“What happened to all the money from my writing award?”
“What do you mean?”
“I gave you my award check and told you to cash it, since I don’t have a bank account. You said you’d let me use it if I ever wanted to buy anything at the store or online.”
“You never gave me a check,” she said lying through her teeth.
“Yes, I did.”
“Well, even if you did, I buy your food. I pay for your house, your water. You can feel free to leave if you feel like I’m being harsh!”
“No, you’re not harsh.”

You’re just a drunk, I thought to myself. At this point, my sister came down. She wanted oatmeal, which mean I had to make it; my mother wasn’t going to do it. I mixed it and put it in the microwave.

“Mom, where’s my piggy bank? I wanted to get a teddy bear from Build-A-Bear, and I’ve been saving that money for a year now,” my sister said.
“Why would I know? Maybe you should look after your things a bit better.” My mother said.
“Will you help me find it later?”
“Sure, I don’t need to be at work till two.”
“Wait, mom you go to work at nine, why would you go in so late?” I said.
“Oh, today’s my quick day, I’m there from two to six.”
“Whatever.”
“Will you help me look for it, too?” My sister asked.
“No, I’m going to be busy.”
“No you’re not, help your sister!” My mother said.

This was a very annoying situation for me, I would have plans and my mother would do something to ruin them. I’m sure after I finish looking, she’ll have me clean the whole house, then do the outside. Life can be annoying.

“Just because it’s the weekend doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want, you still have responsibilities,” my mother told me.
“Yeah, don’t be so lazy,” my sister added.

They’re not the people to be telling me this, my sister sits around all day while my mother gets drunk. I want to know who nominated me to be the lazy one. I started looking for that stupid bank as told. I had no luck, my mother had probably hid the remains already. Then, as I thought, she wanted me to clean the house. I got out the vacuum, the mop, and the duster; and got the job done. Then, she told me to do the outside. I got out the lawnmower and the weed eater, and started on the job. About halfway though, my mother came out and sat on the porch.

She sat there and watched.

When I was finished with mowing, her boyfriend Gary came over. My mother and Gary had been dating for about a year now, but they’ve never manager to keep together. By this time next week, they’ll have broken up and gotten back together again. I think it’s idiotic what she’s doing, but it’s not my decision to make.

“Get in here and help Gary with the food!” My mother said. It seemed he had brought over some burgers, more food to last another day. I brought in the food, and sat it in the kitchen. My sister was sitting there with a blank look on her face, as she always did.

Sometimes I worry about her, she may have some mental disorder. My mother would never get her examined, though, she couldn’t stand the thought of having a loony in the  family. In my opinion, no one is completely sane. We all have our obsessions, we all have our little quirks. I guess it’s one of the things that make us somewhat individual.

I went back out and finished with the lawn. It didn’t take too long, considering it was only weed eating. I went back inside to eat what Gary had brought over.

“Oh good,” Gary said.”There you are. I need you to go into my trunk and get my bag.”
“Sure thing,” I said.

I walked out of the house and opened Gary’s trunk. It was a mess, papers scattered about, trash bags, and a bunch of lottery tickets. There was no bag to be found; so I decided to look in the rest of his car. I opened the driver’s side door, and looked around in the back. Again, a lot of scattered papers, fast food bags, and lottery tickets; no bag. I decided I’d look in his glove compartment, just for fun.

When I opened it up, there was a squeak. It seemed his latch was broken, but that didn’t matter to me. I looked inside and found something I don’t think he’d want me to see, a very large bag of cocaine. I closed his glove compartment and re-locked the car. I walked into the kitchen and gave Gary his keys back.

“I didn’t see your bag anywhere,” I told him. “You sure you didn’t leave it somewhere?”
“No,” he said. “I made sure to bring it… did you not look everywhere? If it’s not in the trunk, it’s probably in the glove box.”
“What’s it look like?” I pretended no to know anything.
“It’s just a plastic bag… only it’s got some white sand in it, you know, to keep my stuff from rusting.”

I could tell he was lying, what an idiot I would be if I believe him. I told him I had to go to the bathroom, and that I could get it when I was done, but he told me it was fine.

I guess I got out of that one pretty easily. I went up to my room and laid down for a bit. I felt my eyes start to droop. Slowly they shut.

I was asleep.

______________________________________________________________________________________

“What do you mean dead!?” she said.
“I’m sorry Mrs. King, but your son was found dead at the hotel. Is there anything I can do for you?” he said.
“You can get out of my home and stop lying to me,” Mrs. King said.

The man started towards the door, “Listen ma’am, your son is dead… call the hotel and find out yourself, I left the number on the counter,” the man said, closing the door behind him.

Mrs. King went into her kitchen and looked at the note.

SAINT RANGE HOTEL
847-9985

She decided to disregard it and make dinner. As she ate, she thought about her son, how he left in anger, left on bad terms. She didn’t want him to be dead; for if he was, she would be devastated. After her husband died, he was the only thing she had left, the only person who loved her for no reason. She craved attention and couldn’t stand to be alone.

“Why did I not stop him!?” She cried to herself. At that moment, she decided to call the hotel.

“Saint Range hotel, how may I help you?” A man said on the other line.
“Let me talk to your manager,” she said.
“He’s not in, may I take a message?”
“No, get you manager on the phone now!”
“Listen ma’am, yelling at me will not get the manager to come back any quicker. Now, can I take a message for him… or do you have a question I can answer?”
“Yes, I have a question; and you can tell this to your manager as well: Where is my son?”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t play games! I know my son is there! Get him on the phone!”
“Who is your son, ma’am?”
“Austin King, now get him on the phone!”
“I’m sorry ma’am, but Mr. King is no longer with us.”
“You mean he left?”
“In a manner of speaking… ma’am… your son… your son is dead, ma’am”
“LIAR! How can you say such a thing! Get my son on the phone now!”
“I’m sorry… I can’t, ma’am… he really is… he’s dead.”
“Shut up! I’m coming up there, and if I don’t see him waiting for me at the door, I’ll… I’ll… I’ll kill you!” She slammed the phone down on the receiver and ran out to her car.

She drove. Miles, hours, she drove.

When she got there, her son was not waiting at the door, no one was at the door, no cars either. She went inside and got the attention of the attendant. He looked at her, and then went back to filing papers. She stood there a little longer then finally yelled to him.

“I’ve been standing here and you have yet to attend to me, may I ask why?” She said with a snicker.
“Well ma’am, as you can see, I’m busy. Could you wait just a moment?” He said as nicely as he could.
“No, now where’s my son?”
“Oh, so you’re the one from the phone. I thought you were just a prank caller; but I’m sorry, your son is dead.”

She glared at him. He was petrified, she had the look of a murderer in her eyes; and with the recent events that occurred in the hotel, he was a bit hesitant to deal with her.

“Ma’am, would like a free drink while you wait for the manager? I’m sure he can clear up this whole ordeal,” he said. She walked over to him and slapped him in the face.

“I’d recommend he gets here soon, or it’ll be much worse than a slap to the face, sir!” She said walking to the bar.

When she was in the bar, she heard “White Rabbit” by Jefferson Airplane playing.

“What can I get you ma’am?” The woman at the counter asked.
“Just a rum and cola,” Mrs. King said.
“Thanks for giving me something easy, the bartender’s been gone for a while.”
“Really? What happened to her?”
“No one knows, she just disappeared one day.”
“Odd…”

There was a silence, the manager walked into the room, the song said the words:

And if you go chasing rabbits
And you know you’re going to fall
Tell ‘em a hookah smoking caterpillar
Has given you the call

“Hello Mrs. King,” the manager said. “I’m George Ives, the manager.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said.
“Now, you want to know exactly what happened to your son, am I correct?”
“Yes, now tell me.”
“Sure,” he said while slipping something into her drink. “But you’re not going to like what you hear.”
“My on is dead, there’s not much more to hear,” she said, finishing off her drink.
“Well, I don’t think here’s a good place to discuss this… can we go up to my office?”
“Fine,” she said standing up.

She was dizzy. She could barely stand. The song played the lines:

When logic and proportion
Have fallen sloppy dead
And the White Knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen’s “off with her head!”

She fainted.

(more to come later)