The Transparent Bride

Because my last post got a lot of attention since yesterday, I a story for ya. It's perfect for this time of year. Hope you like it.
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The Transparent Bride

By Ryan J. Torres

  Will was alone in the hotel when he heard footsteps above him.
               Usually, it was easy to mistake footsteps in an empty house for old boards settling under the heat from the furnace. But this was different. This was distinct. It was high heels on hard wood.
               The innkeeper left his paperwork, got out his chair, and made his way from his office and to the foot of the staircase. As he glanced up into the darkness of the second floor, he called out to the noise to see if anyone, the owner, the housekeeper, a groundskeeper, anybody, had made their way into the hotel and up the steps without Will noticing.
There was no response.
               Step by step, Will made his way up. His eyes were transfixed on the light switch at the top of the staircase. And as he reached the top, he flicked the switch, and the main hallway of the second floor sprang to life.

               The door to room 2, the one that was right above his office, was halfway down the hall and on the left.
               There was an eerie silence that tormented Will as he made his way toward the room. Even with the lights on, he hated the dreary hallways of the Colonial inn. The thin plastered walls with a solid moss-green coat and white trim mixing with the burgundy carpeting made him feel as though he was walking through a lung infection. But, loss of appetite aside, it was--after all--a steady paycheck.
               Will dug his skeleton key out of his pocket and unlocked room 2. The door felt cold as he placed the palm of his left hand upon it and slowly pushed it open. His breath was stifled.
               As the door was whining itself open all the way to the stopper, Will grazed the wallpaper for the light switch. But, for a moment, he hesitated flicking the switch. Harsh winter moonlight was pouring in through the two windows in the room and spilling onto the hardwood floor. Behind that light, there was an Italian leather fainting sofa. And, on that sofa, Will thought he saw the silhouette of a woman splayed across it. The outline of a head, neck, and shoulders were recognizable on the pillow of the chaise.

Will turned on the light.

No one was there.

                  With senses peaked, he turned off the light and closed the door. Then, while walking back down the hall, he caught his reflection in the small mirror that was hanging from the wall. As he grew nearer to his reflection and, ultimately, the staircase, his saw something else in the mirror, a silhouette of a woman, over his right shoulder.

            Will spun around and examined the dimly lit hallway, but found nothing. He waited. And when the hairs on the back of his neck rested once more, he turned again.

            This time, she was standing right in front of him. Her eyes were wide, black, and accusing, and she wore a long, strapless wedding dress. Her dark hair wafted around her head as if she were underwater.

            Will stepped back, away from the apparition, but found no footing between the top step and the landing. He then fell backwards and rolled, all the way to the bottom of the stairs.

            As Will laid there broken and choking for breath at the foot of the steps, the transparent bride, who was descending the stairs after him, interrupted his last mortal moments. Her arms were outstretched. Her eyes were wide and damned. And her touch was a January eulogy as she claimed her new groom. 

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Happy Halloween.

~Torres