Only No Sun: Part II

The staircase leveled off and became a narrow hall, the room directly to the right. At the end of the hall a withering rose, kept from hanging limp by a pristine glass vase.

Damp, calm, the smell of early mist reaching from the coast, accentuated by the chipping teal paint.

 

The bed’s headboard rested against the left wall. A chest rested at its foot. An antique mahogany dresser pressed to the right. A single window, to let in the light.

 

“You got yourself a king size bed, no bedbugs, no rodents, or any other pests for that matter, a great view. The bathroom’s a communal but there’s only one other tenant, so you’ve got plenty of privacy. What more could you want?”

“10 a night you said, right?”

“That’s right. I have to tend to the store. Take your time. Maybe discuss it with your wife.”

“Girlfriend. She’s my…” started David, but the pharmacist was gone, already creaking down the stairs.

 

“Jen, I found us a place!”

“You did?! Where?”

“Right here. I just spoke with the pharmacist, he has rooms for rent.”

“Honey…we can’t stay around here.”

“We aren’t gonna be in the room the whole time. Look, it’s cheap, it’s right near the ocean.” He put his arms around her. “We’ll have a time on the beach, and we’ll have this cozy bed to come back to.”

“Okay, but I can’t promise that I’ll like it.”

 

The sun glowed with brilliant radiance; the sea, the chest of all treasures.

They lay in bed, warm.

“Was I right, or was I right?” David asked, smiling.

“You were. That beach is beautiful, and so close. I wonder why this place is so cheap…and so…empty.”

“I'm sure there are practical reasons. I'm just glad we found it.”

Perfect silence.

 

“So you two are married?” The pharmacist was seated on the edge of the counter.

“No. We’re engaged.” Jen flashed her simple ring and continued looking through the magazine rack. “I’m sorry, David told me your name but for the life of me I can’t remember.”

“My name is Harold, Harold Dimanche.”

“Well, Mr. Dimanche, are you married?”

“No, my wife passed just last month.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I mean…I couldn’t imagine.”

“It’s alright. She died peacefully.”

 

The door to the basement was edgily lit, unsealed. Whirring sounds and releasing steam crawled from the yawning gap. Vials and protruding tubes, curled and bent, filled black stained tabletops. Light from the open flames underneath cast shadows. A mad laugh, the hideous cackle of a deranged villain.

TO BE CONTINUED…