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propaganda.net : Skole & Jobb
Bayville horror-hotelSkriv ut Utskrift
En dramatisk novelle (dramatic short-story) på engelsk.
Engelsk - NovelleForfatter: Anonym
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It was cold and misty afternoon in a little village called Bayville, in northern England. The sun was hiding behind the clouds and the streetlights lit up the streets. But some places you couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of you because of the fog. Shady characters lurked in the dark spots between the streetlights, and I heard howling from the mountains. As I drove by, the shady men stared at me. I tried to look away, but it wasn’t easy. They just kept on staring.

 

I sat there in my car driving, only thinking about what would happen if something happened to my car. I had been on the road for a week now, and needed a place to sleep. I was desperately looking for some kind of motel or an inn. I was not going to spend the night in my car, as I did last night. It was way to scary for that. What if someone broke into my car and took all my money, or worse. It frightened me.

 

I pulled inn at the bank. If I were to rent a place too sleep I would surely need money. Noting is free anymore you know. I asked the banker where I might find a place too sleep around here. He just said:

- The only place that is open at this time of year is the Bayville-hotel up in the mountain. It’s supposed to be haunted, so nobody has visited the place for ages.

- But the owner is quite nice, he lives just down the street in nr. 9.

I told him goodbye and went on to meet the owner of the hotel. I didn’t mind the ghosts. If only I could get a place to sleep.

 

The owner was, as the banker told me, a nice guy. He invited me in for a cup of coffee. We sat down in his living room. It wasn’t big, and it didn’t remind me much of what I thought a hotel-owner’s living room would look like.

It was no fancier than my old living room, almost poorly. That made think of what the banker said to me: “It’s supposed to be haunted.” Perhaps he was right.

It was a little spooky.

- But what’s a ghost anyway.

- I have never seen one, so how do I know if they exist.

- Anyway, I need a place to sleep.

After thinking carefully over my options, I decided to get a room on Mr. De Vil’s hotel.

 

The Bayville-hotel was big, dark and scary, and the howling was even clearer up here on the mountain. But the way it looked could change if just the sun came back from behind the clouds. Maybe the huge castle-like building would look better in daylight? I decided to give it the benefit of the doubt.

The servants at the hotel behaved a tile odd. They never said anything. They only stood there like hat racks. I vent to bed and fell asleep instantly. I was so tired, that I forgot to tip the piccolo, and I hadn’t unpacked my clothes yet either.

 

When I woke up the next morning I saw that the clouds still blocked the sunlight from shining down on the hotel, or anything else around. Everywhere I saw, the black, dark emptiness ruled over the bright sunlight I used to see when I woke up. I went down to the hotel restaurant, to get some breakfast. The table was decorated with nice silverware and all kinds of food. The table was set for three, but I didn’t see anyone else around. Maybe they were sleeping. But I hadn’t seen any other cars around either. I went out to take a look. My car was the only one standing in the garage, and only one key was missing from the shelf in the reception. This startled me a bit. I went back to my seat at the table. There I saw that the plates were dirty. Only my plate was clean. This made me even more worried. I started running around in the hotel looking for someone who could explain what had just happened, or other gests that may have come down from their rooms. But I didn’t find anyone. The building was empty……..

 

In all the terrifying horror I ran out to my car and jumped inn. I started the car, and pushed the gas pedal all the way to the floor of the car. I drove as fast as I could down to the village, and ran into the first store I saw. I yelled: “Ghosts!!”

Nobody seemed to care. It seemed as they were used to people yelling things. I drove on to nr. 9 of the bank street, where the hotel owner, Mr. De Vil lives. I knocked on the door and went in shortly after. He sat in a chair in the living room. He looked at me and said:

- I knew you’d be back…

 

Then he came towards me with a big butcher knife. I ran out, and into the car again. I hurried back to the hotel. When I came in, the shady characters from the day before was waiting for me. The door slammed shut behind me, and the gang of what I reckoned as ghosts came towards me. I froze with fear. The horrid grin of one of the ghost in the reception was the last thing I remembered when I woke up the next day. Was it all a dream? I sensed hope. But all hope crushed when I came down the stairs to the restaurant, and saw a table set for three….

 

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