The Old Hotel

When I was very young, under 5, I'm sure, my grandfather used to tell me scary stories about an old abandoned hotel on top of one of the nearby mountains. I don't remember a lot of the details. I remember being scared and I think he said he used to work up there, though maybe only for a summer or so. That part certainly may have been made up.

Anyway, the hotel was supposed to have been glorious at one point. It was richly appointed and fancy people would stay there. He would tell me about that too. I have a memory of a woman in a green dress and a shining broach at her waist. But, again, that could just be something I imagined and nothing he said.

What I do know he said concerned the creepy parts. People were supposed to have been murdered there. Scandals happened. Now the hotel was in ruins and haunted by drifting ghosts in lovely outfits. 

I have confirmation from my dad that this hotel DID exist and WAS abandoned, but he couldn't confirm anything else about it. He had no idea my grandfather told me these stories. I only remember it a little bit because, after a certain age, he never talked about it again. 

I'm thinking he just told me all the ghost/scandal/murder stuff to entertain me. And that's fine. It's lovely, really. I tell kids stories to entertain them and none of that stuff is real. 

Although, I almost wish all of it WAS true and only he knew about the murders (because they were covered up) and only he had seen the ghosts. Like it was this big, weird secret in his life and he figured he had to tell someone so why not tell this little grandkid who probably wouldn't remember anyway? 

It's also an intriguing idea that there are some things we tell only ONE person and no one else. In some ways, we are a collection of stories that a lot of people would have to piece together before they could get the full picture of us.