The Cost of Silence

A Story by Jordan Wolfe

An experiment in Flash Fiction.

“A walk-in? How atypical, our visitors tend to have existing reservations.”

“Reservations? The only reservations that I harbor regard the quality of your establishment. If I’m to lay my head to rest here, I’d like to know that I will be properly taken care of, considering how stiff you’re being about the price.”

“We’ve never had any complaints.”

“I’ve never read any reviews.”

“Sir, excuse me if I’m digging too deep, but your request is…unusual. Is it okay to ask the reason behind this little getaway?”

“I’m just…tired, I guess. To be honest, my marriage of fifteen years has fallen apart, and the thought of my wife no longer loving me has left me feeling a bit…dead inside. I figured that an escape wasn’t just needed, but inevitable.”

“Ah, an escape! I’ve seen a number of others who also quite obviously sought the same respite come through these doors, but never have they said such in so many words. You are a gravely honest fellow. I do appreciate that you’re being candid, however.”

“I apologize for being so direct, but you’re dancing around my inquiry. Can you accommodate me, and when will this conversation come to its end so I can finally get some shut-eye?”

“Do you prefer a firm or pliable mattress at home? Are you afraid of the dark? Would you like to be roomed with others or do you prefer your own space? You’ve implied that you would like to know if we could meet your needs, and these are the questions you must answer if we are to ascertain for certain whether or not the accommodations will be suitable.”

“Firm, no, and does it really matter? The more time that elapses, the less I’m beginning to care about the particulars of my stay. More than anything, I think I’d like to know whether or not someone of my current disposition is welcome here?”

“We certainly don’t discriminate, usually. We all have families to take care of, and I’ve got to earn a living somehow. Who gave me the right to pass judgment on a guest, especially a paying customer? I may be a first generation American, but I’ve already accepted Capitalism as my king.”

“I still think you’re being a bit unfair in terms of the cost of my stay, although if you’re willing to keep my secrets it may very well be justified.”

“The price is indicative of the level of service requested. To be truthful, why cost would be prohibitive to you is beyond me. In full disclosure, you’re the first person I’ve ever encountered who has requested such a service be performed. The price is not only for my benefit. If you are willing to pay that amount, it is a sure sign of your compliance. ”

“Such a deep understanding of the particulars of my life, and we’ve only just met. How insightful of you.”

“Insight is necessary if I am to serve as an adequate concierge. In my profession, I feel that I really get to “see through the veil”, so to speak. I have served in this industry long enough to have honed my ability to discern what makes people tick.”

“So how does this work? Isn’t there some sort of contract drafted in confusing legalese that I need to translate and sign?”

“Nothing so trite. First comes the matter of your payment.”

“Cash, I presume? I’d really rather that no one is able to tell when I checkout, so the less of a paper-trail the better. Remember, I’m not paying such a large premium for nothing. What does it amount to, in total?

“More than an obolus. I’ve taken the liberty of drafting up a purchase order for you during our conversation. Just sign here, and here. Leave the fee in one of these here envelopes, and please initial the seal.”

“Of course, of course. And then you’ll show me to my room? I thought about it a bit, and the size of the room doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Just this way, follow me.”

Pale moonlight fell gently upon the grass that lay beaten down under their heavily trodden path, highlighting the trail leading from the entrance towards the door of the intricately decorated stone structure. With a heavy breath and a heave, the foyer was exposed to the night’s cool air. Under the covered cage of twilight’s embrace, they wound their way down the cracked and worn stairs, toward the guest’s new quarters. It was a spacious room, albeit a bit too chilly and damp for his taste, but it would do.

“Thank you for escorting me here. I left a little extra in the envelope, for your assistance.”

“It is my pleasure. I hope you find it…suitable.”

The man hoisted himself upon the raised platform, sprawled out on his back, and rested his head upon the cold surface. The entire atmosphere of the room, from the wet vegetation clung to the walls to the eerie silence, had driven him to shivers. Eyes closed, he took a deep breath and held it in until his lungs felt like they might burst.

“If anyone comes asking about me, which I doubt they will, you’ll take care of it won’t you?”

“Per our arrangement. Just say the word when you feel ready.”

Hesitation was futile. This is what he wanted. He’d made his decision long ago.

“I’m ready. See you around, I guess.”

The sound of stone dragging against stone echoed loudly and clearly. He peered through the looming darkness, trying to soak in the last sliver of moonlight, before resigning himself to a long and peaceful sleep. He’d sleep long enough to forget that his marriage had ever happened.

The graveyard’s caretaker took one final look behind him as he walked back towards his office, taking in the full view. He contemplated the stillness of the sepulcher and pushed the thought that’d he’d essentially buried a man alive about six feet deep into the recesses of his mind.