The Hotel
The Hotel
The city was dark and rainy, and Johanna’s mood was just as bleak. It was bitterly cold for March. After what felt like hours, the cab finally began to slow down. Johanna peered out of the window, frowning.
The hotel rose tall and forbidding, disappearing into the stygian cloudy sky. She heaved her suitcase up the waterlogged stairs, exhausted, dull, ready to collapse into a warm bed for a night. She checked the slip of paper her aunt had offered her earlier that day: “It’s been 40 years since I visited, dear, but from what I remember it was a lovely hotel.”
Her aunt’s crabbed writing was hard to read in the dim light, but she could just make out the words: The Tower. Though the lobby was warmly lit, the furniture was rather shabby. Painted china vases sat primly on teakwood coffee tables, but the paint had cracked and peeled, and the floral arrangements within were dry or wilted. Johanna was too peeved and uncomfortable to question the quality of the housekeeping.
There was no concierge behind the front desk, but there was a bell and a sign requesting visitors to ring it for service. She pressed the bell and waited a long, silent minute. She rang it again, and a concierge emerged, yawning, from an office behind the desk. “Sorry for the delay, miss,” he said, swiping at his bleary eyes. “There’s a room available on the 19th floor, if you would…” “Yes!” interrupted Johanna. Anything to get a nice warm room and a restful sleep, she thought. The concierge handed her a heavy metal key. “Enjoy the stay, miss. We don’t get hardly any new visitors, these days, since the management changed. It’s good to see a new face once in a while…” Rambling to himself, he disappeared to the back office.
She dismissed the situation from her mind and hurried to the elevators, where she met a shabby bellhop. His red velvet uniform had clearly seen many a busy day, and matching, velvety cylindrical hat had a dent at the back. When they reached the 19th floor, he waved away her proffered tip. “No need, miss,” he said. “We hope you’ll stay awhile. Nice to see someone new around here.”
What an odd hotel, thought Johanna. She pulled the heavy metal key out of her pocket to open the door. The room was nice and warm, and after washing up Johanna went straight to bed. The next morning, Johanna woke bright and early to find the continental breakfast. After stepping out of the room, she found herself in a long hallway of identical doors. She didn’t remember the elevator being too far from the room, but, after walking for several minutes she began to wonder if she had started in the wrong direction. She started back along the direction of her own apartment, but to her surprise the room numbers seemed to have changed. Without passing her own, which was 1937, she was walking past 1976, 1977, 1978…
She frowned and walked faster. It had to be this way! She’d just left the room! The 
hallway turned to a corner, and continued along. She paused, winded. Somehow, she had reached 1929 again without reaching her own. A guest opened a room a few doors away, and she ran forward to meet them. It was the bellhop’s apartment, and the fellow blinked confusedly at her. “Would you help me find the elevator?” Johanna said, “or my own room? I’m afraid I’ve been walking in…” She froze. Behind the bellhop a window was visible. The bright morning sunlight had been replaced by the darkness of night. “But that’s impossible! I only started from my room a few minutes ago!” The bellhop winced. “It happens, miss. Time gets confused around here.” Johanna froze. She turned quickly, to run, and! Glory be! Found herself facing her own room and the elevator. Seizing her suitcase, she ran – out of the elevator and the Tower’s terrible twilight zone. 🏰
