Mudcat Café message #2462742 The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #113933   Message #2462742
Posted By: katlaughing
10-Oct-08 - 11:33 PM
Thread Name: Fiction : The Dead Man's Guitar
Subject: RE: Fiction : The Dead Man's Guitar
When Cora's shift started she was told not to go near the room where all of the cops were; she could "clean" it up, later. Her boss, the gum-smacking Tina, the bitch, wouldn't tell her what happened. Cora pushed her cleaning cart at the other end of the hall, stopping for a moment to ease the pain in her back. After the last baby, she just wasn't right; everything hurt. She'd told her husband, Jack, she just couldn't do it, any more, no matter what the bishop said. Jack understood, but wasn't happy about going against the church's teachings. He knew she had to work just to help support the three they already had and he knew she was tired, hell, so was he, but in the grand scheme of things, they had to provide for their ancestors in the coming days. There was something more with Cora, though, and he just couldn't put his finger on it. She'd been acting strange for several weeks, almost afraid to go to work, but compelled to in sort of a horrid fashion. He didn't know if it was just because she was newly delivered of their last child and hormones going nuts or if it was too close to Halloween. She never liked Halloween for some reason; she'd told him once she was scared to death some ghost would come and get her, not just when she was a kid, but in recent times, too.

Now, here she was, working the swing shift, on Halloween, something bad happening at work and couldn't do anything but try to work through it. She knocked on the door in front of her at the opposite end of the hall from all of the hoopla with the cops. "Room service," she called out. Getting no answer, she used her pass card and opened up the door. She flipped the light switch just inside the door, but nothing happened. Darn that Mack, he never replaces lightbulbs when he's told to! Walking into the room, she started over to the bedside table, reaching for the lamp. Suddenly, she heard her name, "C-o-r-a...C-o-r-a." Turning around, she looked at the doorway, the light from the hallway casting a faint glow inside the door. No one was there. This is it! I've got to get out of here! She ran towards the door but stopped at the end of the bed. A wall of cold air and an invisible hand seemed to stop her, the hand on her wrist as cold as she'd ever felt. Cora wanted to scream, she wanted to fight, to thrash and hit, but she was paralysed with fear. Now her name was breathed into her ear, in a slow insinuating way. She felt faint. The pressure of the hand on her wrist led her back to the bed. She slowly fell onto the bed, pushed a bit by the cold, cold hand. As she drifted in and out of consciousness, she saw the shape of a strangely dressed woman, with long, stringy dark hair, surely one of the revellers from downstairs. Surely it was all a mistake, wrong room or something. That was her last thought just as she felt a weird sensation. It felt as though someone had put her on, like a coat! It was the strangest feeling. She could feel her arms being picked up and slithered on someone else's arms; she could feel pressure on her abdomen and chest as though someone was on top of her, then instantly seeped into her. The shock was too much; Cora fell into an unconscious state, a perfect host for the one who'd called her.