The Hart Hotel

Chapter Eleven 11th April 2005.

Nathaniel yawns, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he continues to mop the kitchen floor, nearing the door as he stops. He shoves the mop into the metal bucket, letting out a huff as he takes a break. Already finishing up the cleaning, in the kitchen, as well as the downstairs hallways and living rooms, he walks out into the main hall.

All alone, the children in school, Bonnie off at work. Besides Noah in his bedroom upstairs, he's more or less got the house to himself. Nathaniel strides to the left-wing of the house. Humming along to himself as he slides down the polished wooden floors.

He reaches the other wing, sliding towards the cracked dark wooden doors to his right. Nathaniel shuffles in his socks towards the double doors, turning the rustic doorknobs as the doors creak open.

He edges into the dark, dusty room. Coughing as the dust settles on his lungs, he focuses his eyes the only light in the room. The back window illuminates a small area on the old carpeted floor. Nathaniel looks on, seeing dust circling around the lighted area.

He runs his hands along the wall beside him, pressing the light switch as he grazes it.

The lights flicker, a dark glow brightens the room. Across stands a run-down bar, he walks over towards it, a thick line of dust rests on the counter, behind a shelf full of empty, dusty bottles.

What a shame, he thinks in dismay. Walking around the counter, could have done with a drink.

Nathaniel looks around the counter, squatting as he looks at the shelves underneath.

There, catching the corner of his eye a gleam from a bottle catches his attention. He reaches forward, in the corner part of the bottom shelf a dusty bottle of whisky lies on its side.

"Jackpot," he breathes, a wide smile stretching across his face.

Nathaniel takes hold of the bottle, wiping the dust off it with his black sleeve. He coughs, the dust getting to his lungs as he twists the cap off the litre bottle.

Bringing the bottle to his nose he inhales sharply, the strong smell dancing around as he takes a swig.

"Oh," he says, the alcohol stinging his throat, "that's got a kick to it".

He pushes himself off the ground, getting to his feet.

Nathaniel looks around at the big open room, broken tables and chairs with missing legs scattered around. A pile of cardboard boxes catches his attention to the far-left hand side of the room. He walks over, bottle in hand, the boxes unsealed, some lids open or broke. He places the bottle beside the pile of cardboard boxes.

Nathaniel grabs hold of the box on top, peering inside. He squints, a pile of photographs occupies the box. One of the photographs on top slides to the right, moving slowly. Nathaniel raises his brows, the box still in his hands as he notices little black legs poking out from underneath the picture.

He pursues his lips, as a little spider crawls out from underneath.

"Hey Buddy," he welcomes, watching as it crawls across the box. He tilts his head, picking up the picture the spider had pulled on its back. Nathaniel places the box down and wipes the picture. Evelyn sits on a woman's lap, Eric sitting beside her on the front doorstep of the Hart House. The woman's face beams, Nathaniel smiles as he takes in her appearance. His eyes light up as he recognises her, Aaliyah.

Evelyn looks so much like her; he thinks to himself as he looks at her mother. He turns his attention to the front door in the picture, standing there, is their father, Deryck. Taking in his sharp features, he moves the photograph closer to him, Deryck stands there with a short smile on his face, Eric clinging onto his mother's free arm in front.