Quay Hotel

Quay Hotel

a horror short story

by

Paul Kater

Published by the author as a member of the

Alexandria Publishing Group

Digital edition

Quay Hotel - © Copyright 2017 Paul Kater

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Quay Hotel

Do you really have to go? I asked Joan for the fifth or sixth time. To her I probably sounded like a broken record, asking the same thing once more. She'd already said 'yes' each time before. What was I thinking, that at some point she'd change her mind?

Yes. She looked at me as she gave up trying to close her suitcase. It's not every week that I end up in the will of a wealthy uncle in South Africa. You know that. When I come back we'll be rich, we can marry, buy a house - or two - and we'll be happy together forever. Would you please close this thing for me while I sit on it? She pointed at the suitcase. I gave in. Of course. I'd never been able to say 'no' to her big, brown eyes. She sat down on the suitcase and I close the straps for her.

There. Done. At least you don't have to run off right this minute, I said, gathering some solace from that mere fact. She had to run off in an hour and I'd run with her, at least to the train station from where she'd go on to the airport. Tomorrow around this time she'd be in South Africa and perhaps already know what exactly was in the will. It had to be good, otherwise the South African lawyer with his funny accent wouldn't have called us personally. She made coffee and we sat down to talk and dream up a lot of wild things that we could do if she were to return as rich as she anticipated to become.