Pandora #5

She’s dead. She’s dead. That’s just great. Wait,does that mean I’m dead? Oh he- 

“No,Michael that doesn’t mean you’re dead. Yet.” 

“What do you mean by yet? ”

Rachael sat back.

“I mean you’re being stupid. Everything you write comes to life.Everything.” 

“Well,I’ll just leave then.”

There was a shadow approaching their table …”Oh no. You couldn’t possibly do that. I love your work too much. You must finish it.”

The old woman was back. And she wasn’t letting up this time. Rachael just watched her. With fear in her eyes. 

Michael noted it. And brushed off the subject. 

“Hey let’s go read your book,huh.”
When they got to the library 

He grabbed Rachael’s arm. 

“What the hell is going on?”

“Listen. Every book in this library was written by a tenant. Someone who is now trapped here.They all died terrible deaths. They all built this place with their work. Hotels. Weather patterns. Murders. I was part of that. My death was written…I drowned in the bath on my honeymoon…while working on a summer in yellow…now you know.”

Michael felt sick….

“What do you mean? We can’t leave?”

“That’s right.”

“No…there’s got to be a way…maybe someone wrote a way…maybe there’s a loophole. A pattern or path.” 

“You could burn the library…”

“Yeah.It is what is holding the records. If there’s no records here’s no chains. We could leave .”

“But I may be dead for good…” Rachael said dryly.

“The library is all that’s keeping me here. But it’s also what brought me here.”

 I can’t do it 

“Yes you can have to…other  wise – we all die. Because we become forgotten. You have to remember us.”
She lit a book and set it on the shelf…the fire spreading …

“Now go you idiot…”

Pandora #4

  (Origin unknown)


“What book did you get from the library?” Asked the elderly woman who ran the house.She lifted The cover…”a summer in yellow. Such a wonderful book. Poor thing worked so hard on it.”  She said as she walked back towards the kitchen. 

Ask her about the book. Ask her about the book. Ask her about the book.

“Excuse me!” Rachael collapsed in the chair across from him.”you shouldn’t be reading my book. You will become manic depressive. Believe me. I know. I wrote it. And now I can never leave the house.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t published?” 

“Did I?… Huh…that’s strange.” 

She pulled her hair back into a bun. 

“You need to stop writing.Seriously.”

Great. An author who is going to boss me around now. 

“I mean it. Michael. I’m not here. Stop writing. Look out the window…”

It was snowing. In July. 

“What’s your book say?” Rachael asked. 

Snow that’s what it says…

Mrs Anderson walked back into the room …

“Excuse me.What do you mean by she worked so hard on this? I thought it wasn’t published?” He asked. 

“Oh wasn’t. She died before she could finish it…so sad. Drowned in the bath.”

What the hell

“Are you sure?”

“Well I hope so. It happened in room 107.”

Michael looked at Rachael 

She just sat there staring at him. 

And then he noticed. Mrs Anderson only looked at him. Not Rachael.

“Michael…I told you I’m not here. Not really. Stop writing. I’m here to help you.”

“What do you mean?. Why?.”

“Open the book to page 75…”

Page 75…23…65…7- ???

“It’s only blank pages…I don’t get it.”

“Everything you write comes to life here…this house is alive…the weather…the stories…once you’re finished or give up…your story is added to the library…but you can never leave Michael. You have to stop writing. ”

“Michael…Michael…stop writing.”

Pandora #3

  (Ron Hicks)


Michael walked through the hotel with his coffee. Trying to wake up. He hadn’t really looked anywhere else other than his room or in a book. There was the long stairway with its green carpet. The windows and the wooden booths along the wall. This was just outside of the library. He guessed not many people used it anymore. Mostly because he hadn’t seen a soul other than Rachael and the old woman running the place. 

He ventured in among the shelves looking at all the titles. 

Someone passed the end of the aisle. Causing him to look. Maybe it was nothing. His insomnia. But there was a book. On the table. 

A summer in yellow. 

Pandora #2



“What is the deal with Real Simple magazine ? And why are you up at 3 in the A M writing?.” Rachael collapsed like a dead corpse in the booth. Picking up one of Michael’s newspapers. “Ugh…I hate the news. It’s all the same. Just a bunch of rich jerks,jerking everyone’s chains. To get their rocks off of course” She tossed the paper. 

Say something Michael. You have to talk. Remember? Rememember talking? You know …that thing with words. 

“Oh I likeghh. I mean I read Real Simple  once …it was ok.” Good job. Now keep going. “Don’t tell me. You don’t believe in the moon landing either?.” See? One for science.

Rachael actually laughed. “Oh please. That was totally fake. We’ve been there before. Hey,we probably moved here from there!. How else did we know how to get there?.” She set her palms face down on the table and just sat there chewing her gum. 

She bites her nails…I wonder if people can taste the nail polish,When they do that?. 

“Oh I don’t know about all of that. You see…it’s a big ball of a mirror. You just go towards it.”

“Like moths to a flame. Just like insects. We’re so gross. I don’t understand everyone’s fascination with the thing. Why don’t we go to the sun. It’s a lot cooler.”

“Oh no,you can go to the sun. But only once. Just like you can drink lava. Or go sky diving – without the parachute.”

She’s laughing again. Good job. 

“So why don’t more people do those things?”

“Because we like to talk. Especially about ourselves. And once they accomplished this great thing..,as great as it may be…they wouldn’t be able to tell the tale.”

“Self absorbed ass hats.”


Michael started to write.

Rachael leaned forward. 

“Hey. You know. I used to be a writer once.” 

He stopped.

Damn…Prepare yourself to be let down. ‘I wrote The first cook book on preparing human. And then gifted it to an orphanage. The nuns loved it’  

“I wrote A summer in Yellow.”

“Hey. I never heard of it why not?”

“Oh gosh,don’t try flattery you suck at it and besides it was never published.and that’s all you get. Nothing more.”

Rachael jumped up startled. 

“Hey. I have to go. Sun’s up. What happened to the time?? I’m a vampire you know. The living dead thing.”

Fuck. What happened to the time. I didn’t write anything! But I do need to sleep. 

Michael  fumed  in his mind while grabbing his papers. 

“You need to. Really. You never sleep.” Rachael said looking back.

She walked towards the long staircase leading to the rooms. With a wave and a wink 

“I’ll see ya though.” 



“I saw you at the concert last night. Didn’t I?.” She asked. pulling a chair up and sitting down. Michael intentionally looked at his stack of books ignoring the blonde sitting down in front of him.The blonde-pulling her hair up. Damn. It really is the little things. 

 You’ve got this,you’ve seen a lot of John Hughes films. He thought to himself.  “Yeah.” 

See it’s not that hard, you have established communication. You’re probably on the same wave link. He was trying to stay calm. She probably would rather join a group of sky diving nuns than  finish this conversation. Heck. I’d kinda like to see that actually, If this doesn’t go my way quick, maybe she will let me watch. 

He wasn’t doing so good on the calm.

“So,my name is Rachael. Why haven’t I seen you in class? ” she asked. While picking up a book. ” ‘The age of  truth and spirituality.’ That sounds really deep. Or maybe just shallow and muddy. What class is this anyway?” She laughed. Michael choked.  “Oh no… I’m not in classes. It’s not a class. I’m just rooming here…to write. I’m just checking the book out.” He was trying. “Just checking it out, For yourself?” She wasn’t laughing. “Yeah the other night I dreamed I was possessed by satan. So I thought I’d better look into it.” She was grinning. 

Good job.She is still here. She hasn’t left. She could have left,hell, She still can.But she hasn’t. 

“And did it help?” She crossed her arms. 

Michael counted three planet tattoos across the back of her arm. Along with a few scars. “Not really. Or not yet.But I haven’t gotten very far either.” He said. “So you could still be possessed? I should probably leave then? Cause I definitely didn’t make room in my schedule for exorcisms.”  

I raise your sarcasm with dark humor. 

“No you’re good now. I dreamed I was talking to my dead friend last night. So you’re good. He just committed suicide…so it’s totally safe. Any damage I may do will probably be self inflicted.” She just stared at him.Blankly. Rubbing her scars. 

 What were we going for? Dark humor…suicide…never involved with dark humor …unless you’re attempting to jump from a window and its barred shut…fix this.. 

But don’t worry, I’m totally fine…I’m a lazy person …I tried… I did…I  was going to jump from a window but then I ate some bad tuna…so I called poison control…got stuck with that for two hours.” she laughed.

  Good job…god she has beautiful eyes. 

“You were going to commit suicide but then you poisoned yourself and didn’t want to die?”

“Oh no. Not like that. I’m going out my way. Not because some fish got pissed off for being stuffed in a can and decided to go bad.”

 Rachael leaned forward.

” But you’re going to be here for a while?”

“Well, yeah. Atleast  a weekend.”

“Good.of course. I’m not really here.” 

“Mmmhhm. Right. You can come by tomorrow. I’ll be writing then.”

“Then maybe I’ll stop by after class. My aunt runs the place.” She got up.

“Oh I look forward to it.”