Let me tell you a true story:
It was a cold and stormy night somewhere in Ireland in the early days of the new year. After a full day of sightseeing, two American travelers, let’s call them Iris and Barb, have arrived in a small coastal town, looking for lodging. They plan to drive on to Dublin in the morning, and they look forward to a good night’s rest and a hardy breakfast.
Armed with the Irish Bed and Breakfast Directory, the women locate the only two B&Bs listed for that town. The Directory has proved useful so far. The places where Iris and Barb have stayed have been clean and well-maintained, and the breakfasts have been hearty and tasty, with good selections.
Iris and Barb noted that the B&B operators have all been women in their fifties, some more friendly than others but all efficient. The owners usually provided front-door keys so that their boarders could come and go as they please. The one owner who did not hand out a key assured Iris and Barb that it would not be a problem letting them in. But, finding the woman wrapped in a shawl and dozing in a chair by the door when they returned at midnight left Iris and Barb feeling bad. Fortunately, they only spent one night there.
Now, a few days later, the travelers drive to the first house listed for the town. The woman in her 50s who comes to the door looks genuinely disappointed.
“Oh, I am sorry. I have relations from out of town visiting for the holidays. Otherwise I would gladly give you a room.”
Having arrived in Ireland on December 31, Iris and Barb realize how lucky they had been to find any accommodations at B&Bs, particularly as they had not reserved any rooms. (This was in the days before widespread use of the Internet and discounted rates for international phone calls.)
The middle-aged woman at the second listed B&B curtly states that she does not take in boarders during the holidays. Before the woman closes her door, Barb manages to ask her if there are any other B&Bs in town. The woman hesitatingly mentions one a short distance from her house.
The thunder increases, as do the flashes of lightening and the intensity of the rain. When Iris and Barb finally see the “Bed and Breakfast” sign and park their rental car in front of the indicated property, they wonder why the place is not listed in the Directory. They run up to the front door in the downpour.
A woman in her late 30s comes to the door, surprised to find two Americans on her doorstep. She assures them that she can accommodate them for the night. Iris and Barb retrieve their bags from the car and their hostess leads them to the second floor. The travelers note the dim lighting, the well-worn carpeting, and the creaking of the stairs. As if on cue, a black cat scoots past them down to the first floor.
Iris and Barb are disappointed by the room. For the first time since arriving in Ireland, they will have to share a bed. The furnishings are dingy and the room badly needs repainting. But it is either this place or driving in the storm to another town and searching for a place all over again. It is already after 9 pm. The women thank their hostess and she leaves.
The bathroom down the hall is cramped, the fixtures outdated. The hot water comes out tepid, and the ancient lightbulb casts a dim yellow glow.
There is no television or even a radio in the room. The rain beats down on the roof and on the window. Iris draws the heavy drape closed to block off the flashes of lightening.
“I wonder if there are any ghosts here,” Barb says.
“This is certainly the place for it,” Iris acknowledges.
That night, the storm rages on. Suddenly, Iris sees long cracks snaking up the wall. Mud starts to ooze through the crevices. Barb sleeps soundly next to her. What to do? Wake Barb so they can flee? In their pajamas? And flee to where? A loud rumble – the room will surely collapse.
A boom. Iris bolts upright. The wall is intact, no mud anywhere. Barb is mumbling something in her sleep. She jerks her arm as if swatting something away. Iris lies back down, pulling the covers to her chin.
The next morning, the women confront a true horror: breakfast. The owner smiles as she places plates of eggs swimming in oil on the table. The oatmeal is thick and gummy. The toast is barely browned. No juice is offered, and neither is coffee. But the tea is tasty.
As they say in old-time novels, Iris and Barb beat a hasty retreat from that B&B, vowing never again to stray from the Irish Bed and Breakfast Directory.
Happy Halloween, everyone!
E.E. Mazier is pleased to announce the release of The Face, her latest novel. The Face centers on an elusive artwork created at the time of Jesus and its meaning and repercussions then and in modern times. For action, thought-provoking ideas, and a bit of history, The Face is for you. Available on Amazon in Kindle and paperback versions. Also in Spanish (El Rostro) and Italian (Il Volto) in Kindle version.
Do you like stories about curses, steamy settings, and alluring people with mysterious powers? Are you interested in the early days of rock and roll and the hard road to fame? E.E. Mazier’s novel, Johnny Moon and the Black Dog Queen, offers all that and more. Now available as a paperback and on Kindle at Amazon. Also in French (Johnny Moon et la Reine du Chien Noir) and Italian (Johnny Moon e la Regina del Cane Nero) in Kindle format. Some reader reviews: “a gripping read, which captures your attention on the first page and doesn’t release it until the last page!” “The characters stayed with me long after I finished the book.”
Just hours from a gloomy night – Cliffs of Moher, Rep. of Ireland
photo courtesy of “Anton”
