It takes a special kind of person to comprehend this story I'm about to tell you. I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't experienced it firsthand. In the off chance that the title hasn't clarified my name, I am Lyra Gibeau. I am merely a small-town woman from France that has kept a journal since I was old enough to read and write. What I share with you now are excerpts from my journal as a teenager, modified to be more understandable and to better express those feelings I so vividly recall.
It was a time of darkness, not recorded in any historical work save my own words. This darkness was not widespread, nor was it noticeable to anyone but myself and my father at that time. My father, Matis Gibeau, was a businessman with a heart worth more money than he could ever have made in his lifetime; in fact, I'm confident that if his worth were to have been monetized, no one could ever have paid enough to purchase him.
Despite the goodness of my father, I never knew my mother. My father said she was a good woman, but circumstances simply did not favor their relationship. He never clarified to me the meaning of that enigmatic explanation either.
Regardless of those details, that was not the cause of our darkness. You see, we both suffered from what I'm sure was a mental ailment, not an "evil spirit" or "demonic possession" as our doctors would have called it.
This ailment caused us much loss and grief, especially when it would strike at the moments of our lives where our mental stability was vital. It was not aggression, nor was it spastic as an evil spirit would be. It was rather a deep, overwhelming fear that would befall us and cause us to shake and to cry. It would force thoughts of terrible things happening into our heads; real things that could truly happen, though they were in no way likely.
The fearful and anxious thoughts were more frequent, but the shaking and the tears were only on occasions when emotions were strongest. My father nicknamed these incidents "combats de peur" or a "fight with fear".
Although we suffered from this strange infirmity of mind, we never failed to exceed people's expectations of our wit and logical decision making. Matis Gibeau was a businessman after all; he had to have a sufficiently sharp mind, or he would not have been able to do his work and be a good father simultaneously.
I lived my life as a lonesome student, learning on my own without true friendship or loyalty, except from a single soul named Adeline. I was not necessarily outcasted, but rather the fearful thoughts influenced my mind to avoid most social situations where there was any discomfort. As you may assume, those were indeed most situations for me.
Now that you somewhat understand my life before the events of this story, allow me to now delve into the real focus of my writing: L'Hôtel Hanté.
"L'Hôtel Hanté" was the nickname given to a specific abandoned hotel located in Port-Louis, France: the destination of my father's dreams. It was rumored to be cursed and smitten of God, haunted by the evil spirits of the sinners that once stayed there. This, however, was no deterrent for Matis Gibeau. His "businessman spirit", as he was so inclined to call it; was too indomitable to give up on such a grand opportunity.
The abandoned hotel was twelve stories tall, each floor having substantial amounts of space for rooms, yet it wasn't so large as to make renovating it financially impossible. I noted as I first gazed upon that ancient, towering building that it was very well built; the bricks were neatly placed, and all the frames appeared even. It seemed sturdy and reliable; but there was something off about it, nonetheless.
Fortunately for us, we didn't live too far from L'Hôtel Hanté. We had just moved to Port-Louis a few months before my father discovered it and became obsessed with rejuvenating its money-making potential. That being said, rejuvenating this promising building would prove to be more challenging than he had expected.
"You're a fool, Matis!" My father's associates would berate him. "You have such a promising career, why throw it away for this oversized box of ghosts?" He lost business prospects and valuable connections because of the ridicule, yet he retained his unwavering determination.
"Life is best lived doing what you love, my friends. This hotel has the capacity to house those people who travel to beautiful France chasing that which they love." He remarked to his associates, leaving an everlasting imprint upon my mind and a guide to how I lived my life. I had been alive for fifteen years and never heard him say anything more inspirational to me than those words.
Despite his commitment, he could not restore that massive building without help. This help proved to be the one thing that he could not secure in the process, leaving me discouraged and saddened for my father. Surely, there must have been someone out there willing to help Matis Gibeau restore the hotel of his dreams!
I helped my father petition people on the streets to aid him in his work, offering very generous compensation, yet no one would even consider it. The rumors of L'Hôtel Hanté were so widespread and viciously terrifying that finding help was nearly hopeless.
Finally, I told my only friend, Adeline, about my distress watching my father struggle so much to find hired hands. To my surprise, she jumped right up and told me "Why didn't you just say so sooner, dear Lyra! My father just finished his job at the harbor and needs work to do. He's no coward and would take on this kind of work without a doubt!" Her loud, scratchy, yet childishly adorable voice never sounded so angelic to my ears.
"Oh, that would be simply perfect!" I exclaimed, taking her hands in mine and hopping around in a circle around her. "I will tell him as soon as I return home! Thank you so very much, Adeline!" The excitement burning through my veins was inexpressible through my vocabulary at that time.
That evening, I leapt into my father's arms and joyously announced the proposition from Adeline. My father questioned this at first, shocked that I had found someone so easily. I explained the words of my friend, to which he responded: "Let's talk to her father before we get our hopes up."
He had a point, but I had just felt so good about this. It was the best chance we'd had so far of finding someone to help! If Adeline's father were to join in, then perhaps I could show her the lobby!
Two days after Adeline offered the hired helping hands of her father, the day finally arrived that they reached an agreement: Adeline's father would work for my father for an above-average wage, considering the risk of ridicule and potential bodily harm from possibly unstable elements.
That was one able-bodied man on the job, but more would be needed for the entire project. "This one employee will prove invaluable." My father assured me. "Not only will he be of great assistance in the lobby, but he will show others that my cause is not a lost one."
The lobby's condition was not ideal, though still well within repairable boundaries. The cold, hard tile was beyond filthy, and thoroughly discolored from its many years of aging. The place was coated in dust and cobwebs, with the occasional pest crawling out from a crack in the walls.
"These walls will need to be torn out and redone." My father stated in concern for the various insects crawling on the wooden surfaces. "This will take much time, but it will be a worthy investment. Additionally, people are already noticing that we've started work. Once work has progressed a little more, we'll likely have more people to hire."
While our fathers ripped out rotten wood and walls, Adeline and I decided it would be fun to check out the staircase to the second floor. After all, not even my father had seen the second floor yet.
Not so surprisingly, there were toppled over wooden furniture items blocking the stairs. I guessed that my father had placed them there to prevent me from going up the potentially unsafe staircase, but Adeline pointed out that one of those furniture items was much too large and heavy for one man to lift on his own.
I also took note of the awkward angle at which these items were wedged between the walls and stairs. It seemed more like these items had fallen down the stairs and got stuck. This was strange and made us feel somewhat nervous, but that wouldn't stop us.
"Now, how do we get through this?" Adeline inquired of me, though the solution was obvious. I hopped up and climbed my way over the furniture.
"Just like this." I told my inexperienced friend. This wasn't the first building my father had taken into his care, just the largest. He had taken on houses, mansions, restaurants, and many other buildings.
Adeline clumsily followed me above and around the wedged in roadblocks. I silently laughed as her light brown hair fell into her face, blocking her vision and causing her to trip on her first step into the staircase after the furniture. What amusement I gained from her!
The carpeted stairs released clouds of dust and dirt with each footstep, making me cough and sneeze. Adeline seemed mostly unbothered, though she flinched every time an insect came into her sight.
Despite the struggles, we managed to find the end of the staircase only to realize that the door leading to the second floor was locked. How disappointing that was! What a waste of effort to climb those dressers and chairs just to be blocked by a lock! Such impudence from the original builders of the hotel; putting locks on these doors! I couldn't think of a single reason why these doors would need locks anyways!
"Wait, do you see that?" Adeline pointed to the flickering light leaking out from the gap under the door. Why would there be light? There were no electric lights at the time this was built. There was no possible way that any lamps or candles could still be lit after all this time either.
"I do see that. Is there someone in there?" I wondered aloud, allowing my curiosity to get the best of me as I stooped down and tried to peek under the door.
"What do you see?" Adeline asked with her ear up to the door.
I couldn't see anything but a dimly lit floorboard with the flickering patterns of a candle, though I wasn't going to have Adeline thinking that. "I see…" I trailed off intentionally.
"What? What is it?"
"I see…"
She was growing impatient and nervous. "What is it, Lyra?"
"Oh, my goodness!" I shouted, grabbing her ankle. Never had I seen anyone jump so high!
"Lyra! Don't do that! You scared me!" She yelled, her crackly voice carrying through the hall.
To my surprise, the lights went out when she yelled. "Wait! The lights just went out, can you see?" I pointed out to her.
"Yes, I see the lights are out, so is someone in there?" She anxiously inquired, backing away from the door with a nervous expression on her face.
"I don't know. I didn't truly see anyone, just the floorboard. No feet, no boots, no heels. Just a dimly lit, carpeted floor." I explained to her.
"So then, what made the lights go out?" Adeline wondered, curiosity and fear very visible in her facial expression. In that moment, the sounds of their fathers hammering the walls faded into the background, replaced by a pressing silence.
"What made the lights go on in the first place?" I added. I could feel anxiety and excessive fear taking hold of me, clearly the beginning of a "combat de peur". Not wanting to freak out at this moment, I summoned all my strength to push it back and think calming thoughts. Thankfully, it worked.
"Does Mr. Matis have keys to this door? Maybe he could open this and find out." Adeline pointed out. As though speaking his name had summoned him, here came my father, Matis Gibeau, poking his head out from behind the furniture blocking the staircase.
"Why yes, I do, Ms. Adeline and Ms. Lyra. We will explore the second floor later when we've made some more progress on the first. How does that sound?" He offered in his business voice, playfully making a deal with me and my friend.
"Sounds like a deal to me, father. We just witnessed something highly unusual! Tell him, Adeline!" I excitedly blathered.
"You can tell me all about it after you're done helping me sweep up the lobby's main entrance. Let's get to work!" My father extended his hand to help us climb back over to his side.
I reluctantly returned to the tedious sweeping assigned to me by my father. If Adeline and her father weren't there, I know I would have cast myself upon the tile and thrown a tantrum about not getting to explore the second floor, but alas, my father was not the only one to care about his reputation.
The curiosity of what we had witnessed would plague my mind for the rest of that night. Just who was hiding in there? Was it a homeless man that made his home there? Was it truly an evil spirit like the rumors said? Or maybe it was a good spirit that was just shy! Regardless, I would not be satisfied until I could return to the hotel after school the next day and drag my father up those stairs!
To be continued