Midnight Dreary

A spirit of unease filled the night, capturing it, and defining everything and everyone in its own ideal. Lilly bit her lip, she'd never rode the train alone after dark. It was ill advised.

Lilly stared down at the ad clipping. "Secretary needed for converting paper hard copy into Word files. Will be reimbursed generously. Housing will be provided. Seek information at the Les Carton on Willingsworth Avenue.." The train rumbled through stations, as she clutched the newspaper. She needed to work over the break. the dorms would soon close, and she'd be forced to leave.

Her aunt had offered her a room, and a job babysitting, but Lilly didn't want to spend her vacation once again with her elderly relative. She could already smell the cat hair, prune juice, and moth balls. Staring down at her small packed suitcase, she wondered if she'd made the right choice; her roommate had left for home over a week ago.

The trains weren't heated, and shivering, she pulled her coat tighter around her. Few people were riding that evening, only a middle age man shared the cart with her, he sat a few rows ahead, and craned his neck, stealing glances at her when he thought she wasn't looking.

Lilly breathed a sigh of relief, when he got off at the next station. She propped her feet up, and looked through the dusty windows. "End of the line," the conductor called. Quickly, she gathered her bag, and exited. Unsure of where she was going, but able to read signs, she strode from the station into the ever darkening streets. She was happy to see the streetlights, and that others were still fighting through he crowds to get home.

On, and on she walked, in circles until a voice interrupted her search, "Miss, may I help you?" Lilly looked up at an elderly doorman. "Yes sir," she smiled as he beamed at her politesse. "I need to know where the Les Carton is," The old man gave a chuckle, "this is it, your at the back of the building". He motioned for her to follow him, and guided her toward the lobby. Before she could give a whisper of thanks, he was gone.

She noticed the emptiness of the building. Sculptures adorned the corners, and at the walls and ceilings were made of solid marble. Plush chairs littered the front entry, yet no one filled them. "Yess, may I help you?" an attendant questioned. Lilly grabbed her suitcase, and walked toward the counter. "Yes, I'm here for a position available," she began. "Miss, did you not call?" he snickered. "We don't have any positives available...this is a fine establishment..we don't hire...off.."

Lilly's eyes filled with tears of confusion, she turned to leave. "Wait, Mr.Deimos did tell us, he wanted anyone who asked about a position to be sent up to his suite. Just a moment," he replied, and began searching behind the counter.

He pressed a keycard into her hand, and pointed, go up to the ninth floor, someone will give you further instructions there," he whispered. "Thank you," Lilly smiled, and walked into the open elevator. Pressing the button, she watched the numbers above her rise... She rolled her eyes, she wasn't going to be working in this hotel, but for this Mr. Deimos....

The doors parted, and she stared into the torso of two large bodyguards. "IDENTIFICATION!" They asked in unison. Startled, Lilly held up her I.D. "Yes, I'm here for the job appointment," she began. Quickly, they patted her down, and guided her toward the room at the end of the hall. "Do not knock more than twice," they warned, leaving her.

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,- While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "Ti's some visitor,"I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door. Only this and nothing more." -The Raven, Edgar Allen Poe

Artemis sat in the darkness of his hotel room, writing and pouring over the words of Poe. The light from his candle sputtered and occasionally died. Poe's work inspired his soul, and stirred his heart. He agreed with Edgar, arts purpose was the effect it had on the audience. For only a moment, the creator had the ability to capture and tame the human imagination.

A draft came through, penetrating the air with its chill. Shivering, Artemis pulled his heavy cloak tighter around his shoulders, and pressed his pen harder against the notebook. He delighted in turning off the heat, and pretending to be a starved artist working in the 19th century... Poe had written some of his greatest works while entrenched in utter poverty....

Lack of sleep made him weary, and on edge, but his ideas sometimes left him, and he dared not capture them. He spent weeks on end, working on the lyrics for song. They had to fit, they themselves were masterful creations. Carefully timed, their rhyme and meter perfected beyond sanity. Artemis reached for his drink, brandy and port. It kept him awake, through the torment of pouring his essence onto paper.

He sipped deep, and wrote a final stanza, immediately crossing it out. The words began to jumble, and overlap each other. Nothing making sense, but little mattered than that final sentence. Time was fleeting him, and he knew not the day, he'd spent hours alone in his hidden cell, pushing himself beyond reason...

Sleep took him unabashedly, and he awoke to his face pressed against the dusty archaic pages of his book. The wax from the candle had cooled around the wick. Artemis felt the wax, still soft, he'd been gone for a very short period of time. Sighing, he stood, pushing his chair gently into the desk crevice.

He was tired, he couldn't force himself to work. Leaving his notebook on the mahogany desk, he closed the door to the room he used for writing, and climbed into bed. The sun had long ago set, and darkness filled the sky. He enjoyed his makeshift home. The hotel had been gracious, and he'd eagerly purchased the entire floor. It was understood that he was to be left alone. Artemis laid back into his pillow and listened to the sound of silence...Piercing silence, its beauty needing no description, lacking pretense, simply masterful.....

"Knock...knock..." his ears curdled at the interruption. The perversity of human arrogance....