The Guest House (Based on a short story entitled "the Landlady" by Rao (standard:horror, 1529 words)
Author: Michael Lance Kersting	Added: Jan 30 2006	Views/Reads: 4369/2630	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Noon It was a small quiet town with many heritage houses from the Forties dotting the narrow streets. As the bus pulled up at the depot stop, Trevor MacGregor, writer, got off, carrying a brown leather travel bag. “Just the place for me” he thought

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


He paid. ‘Please follow me” said the landlady. He took up his luggage
and followed her up a short, creaky stairway, down a narrow corridor, 
to a room marked 3 on it's door. 

She handed him a key, smiled, and said, “Have a good day, sir, tea will
be served at four o'clock “ 

He thanked her, he went into the room, which was a big chamber with a
bathroom off to the side. The bed,centered in the room, was enormous.  
The tall gilt headboard was decorated with a pair of angels facing each 
other. The gold paint had dimmed, and the angels had cracked wings. 
There was also a huge dresser with a huge mirror with  decorative 
moulding in a far corner. 

“A bit old fashioned, but impressive.” he thought,impressed. He always
had a yen for Victorian stuff. 

After a cold shower and a change of clothing, he decided to take a nap. 

Later, at tea, and  sitting across from the landlady, he said” I can't
help noticing all the stuffed animals around. Are you a collector?” 

“No, Mr MacGregor, I was a taxidermist before I retired.” She smiled. 

“And what do you do?” She asked. 

“I am a writer.”he replied proudly. 

“Oh, really?” She said looking impressed.”What kind of writing do you
do?” 

“Mostly fiction,” He replied quietly,” “ Horror and Science fiction” 

“Oh,that must be fascinating, creating all those scary situations?” 

“Well, it does have it's bright spots, but it's truly a lot of hard
work.” 

“Nothing worthwhile ever comes easy.”she said looking steadily at him. 

“I was just wondering,  Mrs.Robinson, I noticed that there were two
other tenants , a  Frank Owens, the name sounds familiar, wasn't he the 
famous Archaeologist who disappeared a couple years go?” 

“Yes,actually, Mr. Owens is a tenant, he is still with us.” 

“Really ?” 

“Yes, but he's a very private person. He doesn't like to be disturbed,
He likes to keep to himself, and I respect my tenant's wishes'. 

“I see,” he replied, “ Just curious. I certainly would like to meet him,
“ 

“Perhaps, I can arrange that for you, Mr. MacGregor.”she said with a
slight smile. 

‘That would be great, I read some of his works on Ancient Egypt. Quite
fascinating stuff, actually.” 

“What about the other person, Mr Donaldson, who was he?” 

“Oh,Mr.Donaldson,” she looked at him steadily,”  He was an Artist who
came out here to do some rural landscape painting . He was a very nice 
man, a bit eccentric, wearing odd coloured socks and rather bright 
clothing and all that, but he was a pleasant man.” 

“Was?” 

“Yes, He left here one day, and just never returned. After a couple of
days, I notified the authorities, a search was made for him, but they 
never found him.  He just up and left. A very mysterious case ,that 
one,... care for some more tea ,Mr Mcgregor?” she offered, taking up 
the teapot. 

‘No, thank you, , I think I will go for a walk.” 

“Are you alone here, Mrs Nelson ? ” 

“But for Mr.Owens, pretty much so ,Why?” 

“I felt as if I were being watched,” 

The landlady laughed. 

“Oh, please, Mr MacGregor, it's just your imagination, I have to admit
that the place can invoke spooky thoughts, but you don't have to worry, 
you will get use to it” she responded reassuringly. 

He got up and said  “Well, Mrs.Robinson, It certainly was interesting
talking with you .” 

“My pleasure, Mr MacGregor,” She replied evenly, 

On his walk, he passed some old Victorian houses in dire need of repair,
their garbled bay windows cracked and shadowed, porches sagged,as he 
looked around, he felt a bit sad, 

“A town gone to seed,” he thought, “and almost deserted.” 

He stood looking at an old church, admiring the Gothic architecture.The
stained glass coloured windows,the buttresses,the rose window above the 
entrance. 

“Those old architects sure had a lot of imagination”,he thought. 

“New in town are you?”said a raspy voice from behind him, which startled
him. He hadn't heard the person approached. He was a tall, gaunt man 
with a bald head and long, big knuckled hands. 

“Yes” 

“Where you staying?” 

“At the Knife and Fork, and who are you, may I ask ?” “Oh, forgive my
bad manners,I am Hudson, the town's undertaker” he stretched out a 
hand. 

Macgregor reluctantly shook it. It was ice cold. 

‘And what brought to our little town ,Mr .....?” 

“MacGregor. I am a writer.” 

”Yeah? You don't say, we had a writer fellar here once, name of O'Brien,
he spent a couple of days then took the next bus out” 

“Really ? Replied MacGregor,intrigued.” but why? do you know?' 

“He claimed that the town was too spooky for him.”. 

”Can't blame him” thought Macgregor. 

“Well, I gotta go”, Hudson said abruptly,” Nice meeting you,
Mr.MacGregor,have a good stay” 

He turned and left as quietly as he came. 

Later at tea, the landlady asked.“How was your tour of the town?” 

“Fine.' MacGregor replied” just fine, I met Mr. Hudson, the town's
undertaker, he says” 

Mrs.Robinson's face turned as white as a sheet . 

“but that can't possible be.” 

“Really? why not?” 

“Mr. Hudson died three years ago!” 

MacGregor felt a chill ran through him. 

“Really?” he said astonished. 

“Yes, he died shortly after his wife .” 

“You are pulling my legs, aren't you?” 

“No.” 

One day ran into another, and still no Mr. Owens, and MacGregor began to
think that maybe Mrs.robinson was a bit dotty and only imagined that 
Mr.Owens was still thereat the boarding house. 

“What about Mr Owens?” he blurted one night over dinner. 

“I will take you up to meet him as I promised.”She paused, “Are you
still sure you want to meet him,Mr. MacGregor?” 

“That would be great.” 

He followed her up the stairs to a door marked 4, with a sign hanging on
the doorknob saying: “DO NOT DISTURB.” 

She keyed it open. An overpowering, nauseating smell assailed his
nostrils as she opened the door.A smell of leather and disinfectant. 

She said, ”Well, Mr.Macgregor, there is Mr.Owens “ 

MacGregor looked, and recoiled in shock and terror.He couldn't believe
his eyes. A cold chill ran through him as he stared in total disbelief. 


For there on the wall opposite him, stood five human heads mounted on
highly polished Plaques,their faces a blotchy white and their sightless 
eyes staring mockingly down at him! 

‘He is in the middle.” cooed Mrs Robinson,and gave a mad,cackling laugh.


The End 


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