Flavour of the Day (11/05/16)
Title: Uncomfortable Company
Author: lost_spook
Story: Enigma House
Flavor(s): Flavour of the Day 11/05/16 (eldritch)
Toppings/Extras: None.
Rating: G
Word Count: 350
Notes: Mia Robinson, Claud Dickinson. One of my New Year’s Resolution thingies for RaTs was to write a piece for my other isurrendered canons. Enigma House was my very first. (It features a haunted hotel, an amnesiac heroine, a possibly-dead man, several mostly annoyed/doomed guests, and a confused police inspector who would like not to be called in to investigate any more murders that haven’t happened yet. This brief piece obviously includes none of the above, except the hotel.)
Summary: Another day, another unsatisfied customer…
***
“I want to move rooms.”
It wasn’t an unusual complaint at the Royal Clarence but in this case the complainant had a bloody nerve, at least as far as Mia was concerned.
“You’re not booked into any room, and you’ve never paid us any cash for staying there, either. You just popped up and started haunting it, so I don’t see how it’s my business if you don’t like it.”
Mr Dickinson - Mia refused to call him a stupid name like Uncle Claudius - gave her his best reproachful look, magnified by his glasses. “And do you have to spend every night worrying about the eldritch horrors lurking in Room 114?”
“What eldritch horrors in Room 114?”
“I thought not.”
Mia shrugged. “Well, go haunt somewhere else. Just not reception, because I’ve got more than enough to do without you hanging about here any more than you already do.”
“And, for your information, I didn’t exactly choose Room 113 myself, either. That’s not how it works.”
Mia chewed on her pen. “Okay. One suggestion for you: you’re worried the eldritch whatsits next door have come to gobble you up in the night, probably in case you give us any information about McAllister, right?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, then, bloody tell us whatever it is you know and then it’s too late, isn’t it?”
Mr Dickinson sighed heavily again. An ice cold chill passed over the reception desk, causing Mia to scowl at him. It was bad enough trying to dress for all eventualities of the British weather without ghosts turning the temperature up and down at random, too.
“Ever heard of revenge? And I don’t know anything. Not that I know I know, anyway.”
Mia put down the pen and turned back to the computer. “Well, then don’t come bothering me with pointless complaints when I’m busy. I’ve got actual live people to see to.”
“I’ll be back upstairs, then,” said Mr Dickinson. “Cowering. In a corner most likely and comforting myself with the thought that at least any eldritch beings probably have more of a heart than you, young lady.”
***
Author: lost_spook
Story: Enigma House
Flavor(s): Flavour of the Day 11/05/16 (eldritch)
Toppings/Extras: None.
Rating: G
Word Count: 350
Notes: Mia Robinson, Claud Dickinson. One of my New Year’s Resolution thingies for RaTs was to write a piece for my other isurrendered canons. Enigma House was my very first. (It features a haunted hotel, an amnesiac heroine, a possibly-dead man, several mostly annoyed/doomed guests, and a confused police inspector who would like not to be called in to investigate any more murders that haven’t happened yet. This brief piece obviously includes none of the above, except the hotel.)
Summary: Another day, another unsatisfied customer…
***
“I want to move rooms.”
It wasn’t an unusual complaint at the Royal Clarence but in this case the complainant had a bloody nerve, at least as far as Mia was concerned.
“You’re not booked into any room, and you’ve never paid us any cash for staying there, either. You just popped up and started haunting it, so I don’t see how it’s my business if you don’t like it.”
Mr Dickinson - Mia refused to call him a stupid name like Uncle Claudius - gave her his best reproachful look, magnified by his glasses. “And do you have to spend every night worrying about the eldritch horrors lurking in Room 114?”
“What eldritch horrors in Room 114?”
“I thought not.”
Mia shrugged. “Well, go haunt somewhere else. Just not reception, because I’ve got more than enough to do without you hanging about here any more than you already do.”
“And, for your information, I didn’t exactly choose Room 113 myself, either. That’s not how it works.”
Mia chewed on her pen. “Okay. One suggestion for you: you’re worried the eldritch whatsits next door have come to gobble you up in the night, probably in case you give us any information about McAllister, right?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, then, bloody tell us whatever it is you know and then it’s too late, isn’t it?”
Mr Dickinson sighed heavily again. An ice cold chill passed over the reception desk, causing Mia to scowl at him. It was bad enough trying to dress for all eventualities of the British weather without ghosts turning the temperature up and down at random, too.
“Ever heard of revenge? And I don’t know anything. Not that I know I know, anyway.”
Mia put down the pen and turned back to the computer. “Well, then don’t come bothering me with pointless complaints when I’m busy. I’ve got actual live people to see to.”
“I’ll be back upstairs, then,” said Mr Dickinson. “Cowering. In a corner most likely and comforting myself with the thought that at least any eldritch beings probably have more of a heart than you, young lady.”
***