he tossed his overnight bag onto the bed.
Charles had stayed at a hundred different hotels in his years as a field rep, and this one was neither one of the best, nor one of the worst. He rarely stayed in suites, preferring to keep his expenses down to avoid the always-vigilant eye of the company’s CFO, but these were the only rooms available when he called, and his days of sleeping in the car to appease the accounting department’s miserliness were long over.
He explored the space, but was chagrined that he wouldn’t even utilize half of it. In the morning he would be headed out to St. Louis for a conference, and then all the way to Springfield, Illinois to meet with a distributor that the company was courting. He wouldn’t end up getting any use out of the f ull-size refrigerator or stove in his room. He simply didn’t have time for much else but sleep.
Something in the wall rumbled, and Charles grimaced at the loud noise. It sounded like running water, but he was surprised by how much the noise bled through the walls. He placed his hand against the flower-print wallpaper and realized that his neighbor’s bathroom was located just behind the headboard of the bed. It seemed the foul-smelling man was finally taking a bath, but the sound of the running water was frustratingly loud.
Charles went through his normal hotel procedure, unpacking only essentials, and then started to get ready for bed. He texted his wife, choosing not to wake her with a call, and then started to run through his emails, but the swell of work-related messages quickly antagonized him. He was tired of the debates that consumed the time of everyone at the corporate office, and didn’t want to get bogged down reading through the mu ltiple, strongly-worded replies about the necessity for a minimum sale price limit for online retailers or the quality of fabric being used on pocket linings. He was too tired to care about any of that at the moment.
His neighbor had stopped running the water, and Charles flipped on the television to make sure he drowned out any further disturbances. As he was searching channels, he passed the adult pay-per-view, and considered purchasing one, but ultimately decided he was too tired.
“You’re getting old, Charlie,” he said to himself as he continued clicking through channels. He stopped on a rerun of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a show that he never thought he would enjoy, but that his daughter had convinced him to watch a few months earlier. Remarkably, he found that he liked it a lot more than he would’ve ever expected, although he still hadn’t admitted that to his daughter.
He struggled to get comfortable on the annoyingly plump and fluffy pillows. Despite how most people seemed to enjoy large, thick pillows, Charles liked his flat and nearly devoid of filling. He kept meaning to bring a pillow from home along with him on his trips, but always forgot to while preparing to leave.
Despite his minor annoyance with the bed, he soon drifted to sleep, but was rudely awakened by a commotion in his neighbor’s room. It sounded like someone was thrashing in the tub, and then he could hear the bass of the man’s voice bleeding through the wall. Charles cursed, and tried to go back to sleep. He could hear the man in the room beside him blather on, but he eventually calmed, and things were quiet enough for Charles to doze off again.
He would only be asleep for little more than an hour, but that was plenty of time for the lies to sink in.
Branson
3:45 AM
March 13 th , 2012
The Skeleton Man was alive, but he was trapped in the incapacitated body of Ben Harper. The boy had grown much more than The Skeleton Man had expected, and he realized that his perception of the flow of time was warped by The Watcher’s lies. For years, The Skeleton Man had searched Widowsfield for Alma Harper after she appeared with her mother at Terry’s cabin. He thought he was looking for a young girl, certainly no older than high
Charles had stayed at a hundred different hotels in his years as a field rep, and this one was neither one of the best, nor one of the worst. He rarely stayed in suites, preferring to keep his expenses down to avoid the always-vigilant eye of the company’s CFO, but these were the only rooms available when he called, and his days of sleeping in the car to appease the accounting department’s miserliness were long over.
He explored the space, but was chagrined that he wouldn’t even utilize half of it. In the morning he would be headed out to St. Louis for a conference, and then all the way to Springfield, Illinois to meet with a distributor that the company was courting. He wouldn’t end up getting any use out of the f ull-size refrigerator or stove in his room. He simply didn’t have time for much else but sleep.
Something in the wall rumbled, and Charles grimaced at the loud noise. It sounded like running water, but he was surprised by how much the noise bled through the walls. He placed his hand against the flower-print wallpaper and realized that his neighbor’s bathroom was located just behind the headboard of the bed. It seemed the foul-smelling man was finally taking a bath, but the sound of the running water was frustratingly loud.
Charles went through his normal hotel procedure, unpacking only essentials, and then started to get ready for bed. He texted his wife, choosing not to wake her with a call, and then started to run through his emails, but the swell of work-related messages quickly antagonized him. He was tired of the debates that consumed the time of everyone at the corporate office, and didn’t want to get bogged down reading through the mu ltiple, strongly-worded replies about the necessity for a minimum sale price limit for online retailers or the quality of fabric being used on pocket linings. He was too tired to care about any of that at the moment.
His neighbor had stopped running the water, and Charles flipped on the television to make sure he drowned out any further disturbances. As he was searching channels, he passed the adult pay-per-view, and considered purchasing one, but ultimately decided he was too tired.
“You’re getting old, Charlie,” he said to himself as he continued clicking through channels. He stopped on a rerun of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a show that he never thought he would enjoy, but that his daughter had convinced him to watch a few months earlier. Remarkably, he found that he liked it a lot more than he would’ve ever expected, although he still hadn’t admitted that to his daughter.
He struggled to get comfortable on the annoyingly plump and fluffy pillows. Despite how most people seemed to enjoy large, thick pillows, Charles liked his flat and nearly devoid of filling. He kept meaning to bring a pillow from home along with him on his trips, but always forgot to while preparing to leave.
Despite his minor annoyance with the bed, he soon drifted to sleep, but was rudely awakened by a commotion in his neighbor’s room. It sounded like someone was thrashing in the tub, and then he could hear the bass of the man’s voice bleeding through the wall. Charles cursed, and tried to go back to sleep. He could hear the man in the room beside him blather on, but he eventually calmed, and things were quiet enough for Charles to doze off again.
He would only be asleep for little more than an hour, but that was plenty of time for the lies to sink in.
Branson
3:45 AM
March 13 th , 2012
The Skeleton Man was alive, but he was trapped in the incapacitated body of Ben Harper. The boy had grown much more than The Skeleton Man had expected, and he realized that his perception of the flow of time was warped by The Watcher’s lies. For years, The Skeleton Man had searched Widowsfield for Alma Harper after she appeared with her mother at Terry’s cabin. He thought he was looking for a young girl, certainly no older than high
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