All In A Memory

A Story by Stacie Dayton

A fragile mother holds her trembling child at her side using her skirt to shield the girls face from the merciless rain. This was my first sight upon stumbling on the hostel. I knew not how I got there. I remember the car going off the road and getting out to see if I could find some help. I remember seeing a light through the trees and hoping it was someone’s house. I followed that light and went deeper and deeper into the woods. Even after I couldn’t find the source of the light and all I had was darkness, I kept going, somehow knowing the direction. Somehow I found it.

The building stood in a clearing encompassed in trees. The only visibility came from the parts of the crescent moon that peeked through some branches and a dim porch light at the buildings entrance. I saw the mother and child to my left but did not offer my hand. Something about them just made me too anxious. The mother never ushered the child inside to find safety from the elements. They just stood there like they were frozen in time. Neither of them spoke a word but once the house owner came to the door they retreated inside.

I offered my name and gave my explanation of what had happened. I had asked for a phone and even a night’s shelter if permitted. The woman introduced herself as Claura and told me the rules of her hostel. She informed me the phone was out due to the weather and where inside the lodging I would be staying. She then went inside. Everything was so mechanical. Despite my nerves the chill of the night convinced me to follow everyone into the house.

The entrance went straight into a common area. The fire was blazing and all of the houses occupants were sitting around it. The furniture had been arranged for that exact purpose. The little girl who was out in the rain sat on the floor playing jacks with two other children, another girl and a boy. She didn’t even look as if she had been in the rain. The boy looked up and smiled then went back to his game. Not one person came to introduce themselves. Aside from the cackling of the fire the only sound was the clanging of pans in the kitchen on our right.

Walking through the kitchen was the same ordeal. The employees just did their work and not a sound was made. I was so fixated on the temperament of everyone that I just stood there staring. Eventually Claura appeared to tell me when food would be ready and to show me my bunk. There were four bunks on each short wall and seven on the long walls. Each of us had a small chest of drawers for our belongings. II had tried to inform her that I would be leaving in the morning but she just chuckled and repeated when dinner was before leaving. My bunk was the top of the last right bunk on the far wall. To my surprise there had been a set of dry clothing as well as pajamas laid out neatly on top of it. I changed my clothes and hung my wet ones over the side of my mattress in an attempt to dry them. I had gone to put my keys inside of one of my drawers only to find more clothing and toiletries. I figured they belonged to another occupant so I returned the keys to my pocket and went to join the others for our meal.

The hot meal was much needed and it seemed to fill me in a way no other meal has before. I tried to start up conversation but everyone else was quiet and still. Something about this place felt off. Even the children were serene and statuesque. After the meal I felt the only thing to do was retire for the evening since my night had been so bizarre. I would hope waking in the morning would bring a better day.

It didn’t. The rain hadn’t let up at all which also meant there was no phone to use. The other residents acted just as they had the night before. I felt as if they were almost oblivious to the existence of the ones sitting next to them. The little boy would always sit and play jack with the two girls. Always looking up to smile and then look back. Something about his smile made me feel uneasy. I always felt as if even though he was smiling at me, he wasn’t seeing me. Despite all of this, I was relieved to see interaction between the children since there was almost none between the adults. Only Claura spoke to all of us.

The next few days were just as repetitive. I had never seen a storm last like this one. I had learned through Claura that the little boys name was Benny. I like that at least she appeared to see us all as we were. Every night the mother and daughter would go out into the rain and return once she went outside. I kept wondering if another poor soul would walk through the doors but she always came in alone. There were a few other occupants who stood out to me; a man and woman who always sat hand in hand with sorrowful faces. I couldn’t help but to wonder what was going on behind the guises that each person here wore. I would try to talk to Claura about it but she never wanted to divulge anyone’s secrets. She would always just tell me that in time, I would know.

Days passed. I had even gotten so used to the routine that I didn’t even notice the seclusion of everyone else. That’s when it all happened. Suddenly, the sad couple began to talk as did everyone else. Not only did they talk, they yelled, they cried. They were alive again. Claura said that it was time. It was then that the truths came out.

Benny was a little boy of eight. He and his sister Sarah would spend every night playing jacks by the fire waiting for their father to come home just as they had done here. Benny looked up and smiled at his father while his sister was taking her turn. Instead he had only seen the gun his father used after learning they weren’t his.

The sad couple was mourning the loss of their baby. They were both alcoholics and he had certain ways of handling her when she drank too much. After the miscarriage he could only take out his anger one last time before taking his own life.

Annie and her husband had a hard time dealing with Isabella’s special needs. After spending so much time fighting over finances and resources the husband left. Annie was so distraught that when her crying daughter came to hug her leg she didn’t even feel her. All she could feel was her anger and hatred. Annie didn’t realize her daughter’s neck was broken until it was too late.

Claura didn’t match the shock on my face.

“This place is a boarding house of our sins. You haven’t noticed that yet? Your sins follow you. They hide like the Bogeyman waiting for you to open the door. It’s bad enough when it’s only one person but here, collectively it’s worse than Hell. None of us are safe here.”

Claura had been my fiancé once. We had been together for over four years. I came home to her with another man one night. I had left in a rage. I never knew that I walked in on her being raped until after I read that she took her life shortly after learning she was pregnant. Years had passed and I had been married with a family of my own. I had always gotten depressed on the anniversary of that event and like every year my wife and I would argue about it. I wanted to skip the fight this year and had just stayed at the bar until I had received a call that our son had to be rushed to the hospital because of a burst appendix. I left not caring how much I had drank or that I couldn’t see the road. My car went into the oncoming lane and the driver, a seventeen year old boy who had just gotten his license earlier that day, was killed instantly. My car was found on his side of the road in a tree. The date of the accident was April 18. The day I took another’s life. The day that I had left Claura to her suffering. The day she and I were reunited inside our own prison. On April 18, we were all home; just waiting for one more lost soul to come join us inside our hostel.