Category: Welcome To Royal

Chapter 3: Day Two In Royal

The sun rose on day two in the forgotten town of Royal, its pale light filtering through the dusty windows of the abandoned house. The sunlight, weak but persistent, eventually found its way to where Ethan lay sprawled on the floor, stirring him from his uneasy slumber.

He awoke with a start, his body stiff and his head throbbing. He sat up slowly, stretching his cramped muscles and dusting the grime from his clothes. He looked around the familiar, yet still strange, interior of the house. Nothing had changed since the previous evening. The air hung heavy with the scent of dust and decay.

Ethan pushed himself to his feet and walked towards the back of the house. He passed through the silent, abandoned kitchen, its counters bare and its cabinet doors hanging crookedly. He stepped out onto the back porch, the weathered wood groaning softly under his weight.

His gaze fell upon a magnificent old oak tree that stood sentinel in the backyard, its sprawling branches casting a wide circle of shade over the house and the overgrown yard. A small, involuntary smile touched Ethan’s lips. He felt a strange sense of peace in the presence of the ancient tree. He ambled down the porch steps and headed towards it, the dry grass crunching beneath his shoes.

Reaching the base of the oak, Ethan relieved himself, the simple act a reminder of his basic needs. As he finished, a wave of thirst washed over him. He could really use a glass of water. He scanned the yard, his eyes searching for any sign of a water source. In the far corner, partially hidden by overgrown bushes, he spotted an old-fashioned hand-pump well.

Hope flickered within him. He made his way to the pump and gripped the rusty handle. It took considerable effort to even budge it. This pump hadn’t seen use in years, and the possibility of drawing water seemed remote. He pushed and pulled, his muscles straining, the only sound the squeak and groan of the aged mechanism. Just as his hope began to wane, a sputtering sound emerged from the pump, followed by a trickle, then a steady stream of water.

Ethan eagerly cupped his hands and drank deeply. The water was ice cold, biting at his teeth, but it tasted unbelievably good. He splashed some on his face, the shock of the cold water invigorating him.

Feeling somewhat refreshed, Ethan returned to the house and opened the cooler he had brought with him. He inventoried his remaining supplies: 4 sandwiches, 3 apples, a bag of raw carrots, a bag of celery sticks, and a few cans of pop. He then checked his backpack. Inside, he found half a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, a package of cookies, and a few candy bars. Calculating quickly, Ethan figured that if he rationed carefully, he would have enough food for about a week.

He ate a small bite of a sandwich, enough to quell his immediate hunger, before deciding to explore the house more thoroughly. He started in what appeared to be the living room. Books, magazines, and yellowed papers were scattered across the floor. He began picking them up, one by one, and placing them in a haphazard stack on a dusty coffee table.

Next, he righted an overturned couch and positioned it across from the large, stone fireplace. He placed the coffee table in front of it, creating a semblance of order. He moved a few stray chairs and end tables, and positioned a leaning floor lamp so that the room began to resemble a functional living space.

Ethan then went back to the kitchen and began to explore the cabinets, drawers, and a small pantry. He discovered some chipped plates, cloudy glasses, mismatched utensils, and a few dented pots and pans. Everything was old, worn, and coated in a layer of grime. Opening a pantry cabinet, he found an old straw broom and a rusty dustpan. In another drawer, amongst a jumble of forgotten items, he found a tin of farmer’s matches, a handful of dusty candlestick holders and candles. He gathered the broom, dustpan, matches, candles and candlestick holders and carried them into the makeshift living room.

With a determined sigh, Ethan began to sweep the living room floor, the brittle bristles of the old broom stirring up clouds of dust that had settled over years of neglect.

Once the room was somewhat cleaner, Ethan walked out the front door and stood on the porch. From this vantage point, he stared up and down the deserted street. He was still alone, physically isolated in the silent town. Yet, the feeling of being watched, a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, persisted. He was alone, but not truly alone.

He stepped off the porch and explored the immediate surroundings of the house. Behind a shed in the backyard, he found what remained of a pile of firewood, enough for a few small fires.

As dusk began to settle, casting long shadows across Royal, Ethan gathered some of the firewood and started a small fire in the fireplace. The warmth radiating from the flickering flames felt comforting, a small victory against the encroaching chill of the evening. He lit a few of the candles, their small flames dancing in the growing darkness, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

For dinner, Ethan enjoyed half a sandwich, a few of the packaged cookies, and a can of pop. As he finished eating, his eyes fell upon his violin case, leaning against the wall. He opened it and looked intently at his instrument, the polished wood gleaming in the candlelight. But the sight of it brought a familiar pang of sadness, a reminder of the music that had once filled his life and the pain that had become intertwined with it. With a sigh, he closed the case and pushed it away.

To distract himself, Ethan turned his attention to the stack of magazines, newspapers, and books he had placed on the coffee table. He picked up a thick, bound volume and began to leaf through its brittle pages. Beneath it, he found a city directory, its cover faded and worn. He thumbed through the pages, his fingers tracing the names and addresses of long-gone residents of Royal. He set the directory down, a sense of the town’s lost history settling over him.

It had been a long and emotionally draining day. The physical exertion and the lingering unease had taken their toll. With a weary sigh, Ethan lay back on the makeshift couch, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows on the ceiling. Soon, the warmth of the fire and the exhaustion of the day lulled him into a deep sleep.

As Ethan slept, the female spirit returned to the house. She moved silently through the shadows, her ethereal form barely disturbing the dust motes dancing in the faint moonlight that filtered through the windows. She noticed Ethan asleep on the couch, a picture of vulnerable exhaustion. Her spectral hand reached out and gently found an old, forgotten blanket draped over a nearby chair. With a tender grace, she covered Ethan with it, her translucent form radiating a gentle warmth.

She looked down at him, her unseen eyes filled with a mixture of love and compassion. The flickering candlelight illuminated her partially obscured face, revealing a hint of sorrowful beauty. She moved closer, her silent footsteps unheard, and leaned over Ethan. Her breath, though intangible, seemed to carry a whisper of comfort.

“Until tomorrow,” she murmured, her voice as soft as the rustling of leaves, “pleasant dreams.”

Then, as silently and mysteriously as she had appeared, the female spirit vanished, leaving Ethan alone once more in the quiet darkness of the abandoned house.

To be continued …

Chapter 2: The Vanishing Cougar

The silence of Royal deepened as Ethan drifted into a restless sleep. The encounter with the spectral woman had left him unsettled, his mind racing with unanswered questions. He tossed and turned, his dreams a confusing jumble of shadowy figures and whispering voices.

Meanwhile, a different kind of activity stirred in the stillness of the night. From the edges of town, spectral figures began to coalesce, their forms shimmering in the moonlight. They were the ghosts of Royal, drawn together by an unseen force. Their eyes, though filled with an ethereal light, held a sense of purpose.

They glided towards the outskirts of town, their translucent forms barely disturbing the dust on the deserted road. There, bathed in the pale glow of the moon, sat Bessie, Ethan’s faithful Mercury Cougar. The car, a symbol of the outside world, stood in stark contrast to the timeless stillness of Royal.

The ghosts moved with a coordinated grace, their spectral hands passing through the metal of the car as they lifted it with surprising ease. It was as if they were moving an illusion, yet the weight of Bessie was undeniably real. They carried her through the silent streets of Royal, their forms glowing faintly as they moved.

Their destination was an old, deserted gas station just off Main Street. The building stood as a relic of a bygone era, its pumps rusted and its windows dark and empty. The ghosts glided through the walls as if they weren’t there, their forms illuminating the interior with a spiritual  light.

They carefully maneuvered Bessie into the garage stall, their movements precise and deliberate. Once the car was safely inside, they closed the garage door, sealing Bessie within. A final, bright glow pulsed through the windows of the garage, then faded away, leaving the gas station in darkness once more. The ghosts vanished as quickly as they had appeared, leaving behind only the silent mystery of their actions.

The morning dawned with a clear, bright sky, casting a warm light over the town of Royal. Ethan awoke with a start, his head still foggy from the previous night’s unsettling encounter. He decided to get his belongings out of Bessie and figure out his next move.

He walked out of the abandoned house and headed towards the spot where he had left Bessie. He expected to see his car, his only connection to the outside world, waiting for him. But the spot was empty.

Ethan’s heart skipped a beat. He scanned the area, his eyes searching for any sign of his car. There was nothing. Bessie was gone.

A wave of panic washed over him. His car, his lifeline, had vanished without a trace. “Bessie?” Ethan called out, his voice echoing through the forest.

He ran along the side of the road and looked for tire tracks. Nothing. No broken glass, no signs of a tow truck, no indication of how his car could have been moved. It was as if it had simply disappeared.

Ethan felt a surge of anger and frustration. He kicked at a loose stone on the road, his emotions threatening to boil over. He wanted to lash out, to break something, to vent his frustration. He ran back to town. He ran up to the window of the first building he saw. He picked up a rock and threw it at the window. The rock went right through the glass as if it wasn’t there. He tried again. It was the same thing. Ethan tried another window and the same thing happened.

He felt a wave of despair wash over him. He slumped to the ground, his head in his hands. He felt utterly alone, lost in a town that seemed to exist outside of reality.

“I’m never going to get out of here,” he muttered to himself, his voice choked with emotion. “No one even knows where I am.”

He felt a deep sense of self-pity. Everything he owned, all his possessions, all his hopes and dreams, were tied to Bessie. Now, they are gone.

He stood up and aimlessly wandered back to the house where he had spent the night. He felt a deep sense of unease. He started rummaging through the house. He opened a cabinet door and found an open bottle of whiskey. He picked it up and took a swig. It was still good.

Ethan was feeling really sorry for himself, so he decided he was going to get drunk. He spent the day and night wandering through the town aimlessly. He looked through the windows of the buildings, his mind a jumble of confusion and despair. Ethan’s life was in that car. Everything that he had done in college, all his ambitions, all his dreams and aspirations were in the car and now the car is gone. He doesn’t even know how that car could’ve been stolen. There were no tracks, no nothing. There was nothing to show that somebody actually got in the car, got it to start and drove off.

Ethan was in a drunken stupor. Late in the evening, he stumbled into an entryway of a local business. He was crying, his body shaking with sobs. He took another swig of whiskey, the burning liquid doing little to soothe the ache in his heart. He slumped down onto the sidewalk in the doorway, his body giving way to exhaustion. He passed out, his tears drying on his face.

The ghost that Ethan had seen the night before materialized once again. Her form shimmered in the dim light, her presence a silent vigil. She sat down next to him, her spectral form radiating a gentle warmth. She laid next to him, her radiance illuminated the entryway, casting a soft, celestial glow. She stayed there throughout the night, her silent presence keeping Ethan warm in his drunken slumber.

The next morning, Ethan awoke with a groan. His head was pounding, his mouth was dry, and his stomach churned with nausea. He was hung over, the effects of the previous night’s drunken binge weighing heavily on him. He didn’t feel well. He saw the empty whiskey bottle and realized what he had done.

He slowly stood up, his body aching, and got his balance and bearings. The sun was shining brightly, its rays piercing through the gloom of his hangover. He felt a wave of shame wash over him as he remembered his drunken despair.

He decided to head back to the house that he stayed at the night before. He needed to get himself together and figure out what to do next. When he arrived, he was startled by what he saw on the porch by the front door. It was his suitcase, backpack, cooler, and his violin.

Ethan was dumbstruck by all this. Who put this on the porch? He cautiously approached the porch, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of movement. There was none.

He carefully picked up his suitcase, then his backpack, cooler, and finally, his violin. What’s happening here? He carried his belongings into the house and closed the door behind him, his mind reeling with confusion and a flicker of hope.

To be continued …

Chapter 1 – Arrival

In the heart of the Great Up North, nestled amidst a sprawling wilderness, lies the forgotten town of Royal. Once a bustling artist’s colony, it now stands as a reminder of its former glory, its streets eerily silent and its buildings succumbing to the passage of time.

Into this desolate landscape stumbled a young man named Ethan, a 23-year-old adventurer with a penchant for the offbeat. His trusty steed, a beat-up old Mercury Cougar named Bessie, had sputtered and died on the outskirts of Royal, leaving him stranded in the middle of nowhere.

As Ethan wandered through the deserted streets, a strange sense of unease settled over him. The town seemed to whisper secrets, its empty storefronts and decaying houses filled with the echoes of a bygone era. He felt a presence, a watchful eye that seemed to follow his every move.

That evening, as Ethan huddled in an abandoned house, a chilling gust of wind rattled the windows, sending shivers down his spine. He wasn’t alone. A figure materialized from the shadows, a woman in a faded dress, her face obscured by a wide-brimmed hat. She glided towards him, her footsteps silent on the creaking floorboards.

Ethan’s heart pounded in his chest, but he found himself strangely drawn to the spectral figure. She spoke in a voice as soft as a whisper, her words barely audible above the howling wind.

“Don’t be afraid, Ethan,” she said.

Then she vanished.The house was still and quiet.

Ethan’s initial fear gave way to curiosity. Who was this woman? How did she know me? 

Ethan stood up and walked out of the house. He stood in the middle of the road and stared into the nothingness. The moonlight cast an eerie shadow on the silent empty town. Ethan looked up to the stars. 

 “Welcome to Royal”, Ethan whispered.

To be continued …