This is the first chapter of “Halloween at the Fernbeck Inn“.
“No need. It’s not even ten minutes on foot from the bus stop,” Mrs Henderson, the proprietor of The Fernbeck Inn, had told Tyler when he asked her, on the phone, whether he’d better take a taxi from the bus stop. Yes, “not even ten minutes”, but uphill. Shouldn’t she have mentioned that? And he was carrying his suitcase. Even with the wheels, that’s not an easy task.
At least not if you are like Tyler: a typical Taurus who packs fifteen changes of clothes for a four-day trip.
And so, even under the slightly chilly – for a Londoner – gentle autumn wind of the Yorkshire Dales, he arrived at the inn sweaty. The Fernbeck was a stone building from the 1800s that looked more like a villa turned into an inn, than something that was built for that purpose. The interior further supported this assumption, as Tyler found out.
“Welcome! How can I help you?” A woman in her sixties, with rosy cheeks, a bright smile, and far too much energy for her age – or so Tyler thought – sitting behind the front desk asked this question.
“Hello. I’m Tyler Wright. I’ve made a booking for four nights.”
“Oh! Welcome, Mr Wright! I’m Mrs Henderson. We talked on the phone, if you remember.”
And the proprietor – while explaining to her guest where he could find what, and asking too many questions – led Tyler to his room on the first floor. A pleasant woman, by all means. Friendly, but hopefully not too friendly. After all, Tyler had chosen this inn in a somewhat isolated place and far away from London or wherever relatives and people he knew lived, precisely to avoid having them bombard him with questions for his studies, future plans and relationship status, or dragging him to dinners and clubs. He surely didn’t need a stranger taking on their role.
He needed to unwind and relax.
The room was comfortable and cosy. Nice furniture, too, but just the necessary pieces, which was good. Old-fashioned in style to match the age of the inn, but newly made – not antiques. And most importantly, the room was warm. Too warm, probably. Tyler was afraid he might freeze to death, so to speak, but even though outside it was “winter”, inside it was “summer”. The bed was quite soft, too.
Out of his window he could see the moorlands stretching to the horizon. The sunlight, soft, coming from somewhere behind the inn, coloured them in many hues of brown and purple. And far away, a glimmering line – probably a beck running down the hill – divided the moorlands in two. Nice and peaceful.
Tyler unpacked his things and took a shower. Then he lay on the bed to read a book. And before he noticed it, dinnertime had come.
He dressed warmly – he intended to explore the back yard after dinner – and went down to the dining room. There weren’t many guests, there. Maybe two or three. The food wasn’t bad. The dining room and the corridors had some pumpkin and mask decorations, but – thankfully – no announcement for a Halloween party.
When he finished his dinner, Tyler took a bottle of beer and left the building. He walked down – or actually “up” – the snake-curled path, to find himself in an orchard. No fruit whatsoever, but whatever trees these might be, they didn’t seem to care for the autumn.
The path was barely lit by small, short ground lamps. Just enough to see easily, but not too bright. A lovely place, but it had only one bench, and that bench was occupied by a couple. Tyler hurriedly passed them.
Then he found himself at a summer house. Better lit. With heaters, too, but some guests were there. Had he sat among them, a conversation would have been bound to happen, and he didn’t see anyone who’d make it worth the effort. So, he continued his stroll.
And he reached a fernery, at the very back of the garden. Same dim lights, some benches, too, but no heaters or people. He sat on one of those benches and had a sip of beer. He looked at the sky. Overcast, but there couldn’t be heavy clouds. After all, he could guess where the moon was hiding.
And that’s when a boy came from behind the trees at the end of the path. Beautiful! About twenty years old. Fair skin – almost pale. Short dark hair that became brown when he reached Tyler. He was wearing a white button-up shirt, half open. Ah! That chest line! And his smile was even better.
“Do you mind if I join you?”
“Please, do!” And Tyler meant that “please” in every possible way.
The newcomer sat on the bench, but not too close to Tyler.
“I’m Horace.” But he didn’t offer his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Horace. I’m Tyler.”
“Can’t I have your given name? We are about the same age, after all.”
Tyler giggled. “Tyler is my given name.”
“Really? What an unusual name!”
“And that’s coming from a ‘Horace’? Seriously?”
“Mine is rather common!”
“Yeah, right! In what century?”
Horace chuckled and Tyler couldn’t have enough of it.
“So, Horace, what do your friends call you?”
“You can call me Horry, if you like.”
“Well… you don’t look that scary.”
“It’s from ‘horrific’, not from ‘horrifying’.” Horace smirked and Tyler laughed.
“That… you certainly are not! Can I… call you Rory?”
“Sure… Ty!” He grinned, and Tyler’s heart skipped a beat. “So, Ty, are you here for fun, or to fix the roof?”
“Stop it!” But Tyler loved what Horace was doing. If the other boy was as reserved as Tyler is, it would take months to break the ice. “Just for a short break. And you?”
“I… you could say I practically live here.”
“A regular?”
“Sort of. And a local. I used to live not far from here.”
And the two boys continued chatting and laughing, and Tyler couldn’t stop admiring every grimace, every expression, the sound of Horace’s voice, his every move, his eyes, his lips, his chest… everything.
“Do you think there will be a Halloween party?” Tyler asked just to break the silence when it came, like an uninvited guest.
“Not to my knowledge. They haven’t held any in the past, either. What did you want to dress as?”
“Nothing! I haven’t brought a costume either. I wonder what these costumes are supposed to mean.”
“Well… It’s something like this. As we approach Samhain, or Halloween, the veil that separates the world of the living and the world of the dead grows thinner, and the dead can more and more easily and fully manifest in the world of the living. On Halloween, they walk freely amongst the living. And they say that if the dead recognise you, they’ll take you with them. That’s why people wear masks and costumes to confuse them.”
“Oh! That sounds more like something an enemy would do, not a loved one, doesn’t it?”
“I think so, too. But maybe all ghosts are evil?”
“I don’t think so! Ghosts are the souls of the dead. If they were good people when they were alive, why would they turn evil the moment they died?” Horace smiled. “But your story reminded me of another piece of Halloween lore. They say you shouldn’t have sex with strangers on Halloween night, because they may be dead. And if it’s plain sex, then the morning will find you both in the world of the dead. But if it’s true love, then the morning will find you both in the world of the living.”
“Fascinating! Do you often have sex with strangers?”
“Do I look like that kind of person?”
“I wouldn’t know! You don’t look like a tiler either.”
“I’m not!”
“Tiler? Yes, I know.”
Tyler laughed. “That kind of person, I meant. But I’m not a tiler either. Do you… often have sex with strangers?”
“I have never had sex, with strangers or otherwise.”
“Yeah, right!”
“Honestly.”
“Is everyone in Yorkshire blind?” But Tyler couldn’t say that. He didn’t know what to say, either. So, it was Horace who broke the silence.
“Back in the day, people here used to light bonfires on the hilltops and in the fields, on Halloween. They believed that these bonfires would guide ghosts to the other side, as well as scare away evil spirits. But they don’t do this any longer.”
“That must have been a nice spectacle to watch.”
“Yes, it was fun. But I don’t think it really worked, one way or another.”
There was some melancholy – or was it regret? – in Horace’s voice.
“Do you believe in ghosts, Rory?”
“I’m… pretty sure they exist, yes. Do you? Or do you think I’m stupid?”
Even if Tyler had thought that people believing in ghosts were stupid, he would have changed his mind at that very instant. But he never had thought so.
“I don’t know. I don’t have proof ghosts exist, but I don’t have proof they don’t either. I only know I haven’t seen any.”
Horace smiled at him gently. And even more gently, he brushed Tyler’s face with the back of his fingers – barely touching him.
“Well, I think, if you stay here any longer, you’ll become a ghost. You look like you are freezing.”
“Your hand is also cold.” “But your touch was so warm!”
“You, onion-dressed guy, think I am cold?”
He wasn’t angry. He was just teasing Tyler. Tyler was indeed cold – and tired – but he didn’t want to end the night. He wanted to find an excuse for them to stay together longer, but he couldn’t think of any good excuse. At least not any he had the courage to say.
And then, Horace stood up.
“Go rest, sweet Ty. I also need to leave.”
“See you tomorrow?”
“If you want, sure.”
And Horace gifted him another bright grin before he left. Not towards the main building, nor back the way he had come. He went towards the east, to where neither a path existed nor lights, and just like a ghost, he disappeared from Tyler’s eyes.
To read the next chapter, click here. (The link will be activated when the next chapter will be published)
