Out of the Mist by EvergreenWritersGroup

possessed, he
hoisted himself to the balcony railing, throwing first one leg and
then the other over the wide strip of wood. With one final look
into the room where his once-beloved wife lay, he let himself
topple to the rocks below.
     
    September
1927
     
    "Room 428. Up the
staircase. Fourth floor and to your right," Ned said as he handed
the keys to Mr. and Mrs. Doucette. "It’s a nice room overlooking
the ocean, with a balcony. Just remodelled. Checkout is 11
a.m.”
    Marcus smiled at his
bride. Gail grinned in return when he grazed her arm, causing goose
bumps. "Let's go."
    When Marcus reached
for the suitcases, the porter appeared by his side. "Allow me,
sir."
    Once in the room,
Marcus tipped the porter and closed the door. He smothered his new
wife to his chest and gave her a passionate kiss. “It's late,
honey, should we get to bed?"
    "You tired?" Gail
winked.
    "It is our
honeymoon."
    Gail laughed. “Yes,
it is. And don’t you ever forget our date of September 12, 1927. I
don’t want a husband who forgets his anniversary.” She turned
toward the bed and noticed the framed picture hanging on the wall.
“What an odd picture,” she said. “Who’d want a picture of an ugly
horse like that on the wall, especially in a hotel
room?”
    “ Never you mind
that,” Marcus said as he moved toward his wife.
    An hour later, the
two dreamt of their happy future until Gail, who faced the window,
stirred when the moonlight swept into the room. She blinked at the
blinding glare, wishing she’d pulled the drapes across the balcony
door.
    “ Marcus,” she
whispered. “You awake?”
    Not receiving an
answer, she rolled over and scooted toward her husband. Just before
she spooned into him, intending to lay her arm across his chest, a
chilling dampness swept over her. He felt cold. And clammy. Usually
Marcus was as hot as a furnace blasting forth on a frigid winter's
day. Her arm, having first touched something solid, suddenly
slipped into nothingness. Chills flickered up and down her skin as
if a foreign object slithered through her body.
    “ Marcus!” Gail
screeched before bounding to the floor. “Ahhhhhck!”
    When two shadowy
figures arose in the bed, a gunshot echoed in the sudden darkness.
She covered her ears and screamed again. “Marcus!”
    Marcus jumped from
the bed. “Gail, honey, what is it? What's the matter? Calm
down.”
    Gail’s hands flew to
her mouth. The bodies in the bed rose to lengthen into vaporous,
wriggling serpents and slithered across the wall. As if rooted to
the floor, she couldn't budge. She wanted to move. It was only a
few feet to the door—only a few feet to escape from the spectres.
They were after her—those flat, eel-like creatures.
    Marcus grabbed her,
crushing her tight to his chest. Sobbing, she clung to him and
pressed her face against him. Why weren’t they racing to the door?
She gathered the courage and looked up at his face. “We have to go.
We have to get out of here.” She squirmed, but he held her tighter.
Nervously, she glanced around the room.
    “ Shhh, shhh. You
must’ve had a bad dream. It’s okay now. “Shhh.” Marcus patted her
head to calm her down.
    “ No, it’s real...they
were there—bodies in the bed...dead bodies...holding onto one
another...wouldn't let me go...thought it was you.” She pointed at
the bed, trying to catch her breath in between her rushed
words.
    Marcus glanced at the
bedclothes askew on the floor. “Honey, there's no one there. Wait,
let me get the light. See, just you and me.”
    “ No, Marcus, there
were two people in that bed with us. Two dead people!” she
shrieked, clinging to him again. “You must have seen them; you had
to have seen them! And one I touched. It was horrible, so
disgusting!”
    “ Shhh, honey, shhh.
Let's get back to bed. It's late.”
    “ No. No. I
absolutely...no, I won't sleep in this room. There's something
here. I can feel it. A presence. An eerie presence. Spying on us. I
can smell the blood.