Memories forgotten and the ones we will create -S.McKenna

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A/N: This is the first one-shot I have ever written, hope you would enjoy it.
Request are always open so just dm me or write next character in the comments section.
WarningsNone
Words: 1762

It was a long, long time since you walked the corridors of the famous Hotel Cortez for the last time.
It was even longer since you walked between this walls alive. 
Yes, exactly, you were one of this miserable, sad, lonely souls that were stucked in this...in this...Hell of a place.

The truth is you were one of the first paranormal residents here, since you were brutally murdered by the famous psycho, James Patrick March not long after he opened the hotel for people.
You didn't really remember how your life looked like while you were a normal human being.
There were this little scenes that just popped into you head, but then disappeared as quickly and you tried to remember, you tried so hard to remember a slight piece, you have beated yourself up, you have locked yourself somewhere between two worlds for so many years and...and nothing...It was all rubbish!
Just this black, empty space, that was drilling your head all the time and it seemed that there were no end for your pathetic fate.

Finally you decided to take a walk across your forever house after it seemed to be like a 90 years of your disappearance, not that somebody would notice the lack of your presence.
You just  thought that maybe it will unlock some of your lost memories, since you tried everything now.
Last sparkles of hope in you still not completely faded out. 

You have been wandering for God knows how long.
Feeling the company of the dead surrendered  you whenever you took a step forward felt a little off to you, but as one of them you were not scared and also you finally found out that the feeling of sadness and pity fullness did not resonated only from the wretched spirit of yours.

In one moment you caught a glince of your reflection in the mirror that was hanging on the wall in front of you.
You stopped momentairly and look at your image.
You almost forgot how you looked like after all those years of mourning the lost life.

You delicately raised your hands to your pale face and you ran your fingertips across your cheeks stained with tears that ran down from your e/c eyes (that now were decorated with the blue, dark bags under them) noticing that they never stopped to flow out of  them.

Your h/c hair that so many year's earlier must have been done in a neat, tight bun on top of your head now was falling in cascades onto your arms and your back.

You saw that your dark purple dress, from the early 1920s was simply speaking destroyed, must likely by a knife or another sharp object that Mr. March attacked you with.
A bloody stains on the material seemed to never be fully drained as your wounds seemed also to never be fooly healed as the blood slowly flow from your wounds. However, you didn't felt any pain, probably because you were already dead or maybe because you were too focused on your mental pain.

You exhale loudly and made an attempt to wipe you tears away, but in the places of the old ones imeditely showed up new drops of water.
After a while you gave up this task and started to walk again

Some time has past and you came up to the bar, and carefully looked around the place.
It was nearly hollow only one woman sitting in the booth with her back clothed with leopard jacket turned to you and the bald bartender woman in a flowy, fashionable dress at the bar.
The last mentioned woman had saw you and spoke.

-Um...Lady? I have never seen you here before. -she looked you up and down.  -But for what it seemed you must be one of our long lost residents that do not like to show up to often. How long has it been since you make an appearance, dear lady in purple? -she raised an eyebrow.

You've reached the end of published parts.

⏰ Last updated: Aug 21, 2022 ⏰

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