Nightmares Vs Magic

June 21st,

"I suppose in order for my first entry to make sense to the future me or anyone else reading this, I assume that previous text would've been very confusing, I'm not sure, my mother has always said I have trouble remembering things, let me remind myself where the starting point was.

This was during summer, I graduated high school and then moved out. It was an idea I had for a while and it's quieter now that I've made the decision. No one around my safe space to judge me as I try to ignore the crawling things around the corners that no one else sees.

Inflation in 2022 is fricking awful, rent everywhere was in the thousands and I spent most of my money on the first impulse purchase I ever made. I don't know why. Maybe it was just because I liked driving, all the weird faces and floating bodies I would see or imagine, I don't know, they'd pass by too quickly for me to notice when I was driving, it made me feel free from everything.

Grandma from dad's side had this inn, a lighthouse inn. She said I could stay there for cheap, stay in the room she used to stay in when she co-owned it. She's in a nursing home now and is living a happier life than my parents. I think she took both pity and was mocking me, I don't know, it was a nagging feeling.

I remember driving to the place with all of my things; managed to squeeze it all into just a big luggage and a duffle bag big enough to be a canoe for a toddler to float down the river. I remember selling some of my useless stuff to some other guys I knew before leaving school. Easier to move when you learn to let go of what you don't really need.

The lighthouse inn... How do I describe it? It was nice on the outside, cute almost. There was a cottage core house with a light house attached to the side. It wasn't that tall but had that usual light that spins around for the boats sailing in the water, it wasn't too close to the cliff above the water either so that helped my paranoia a bit, though I don't know why I cared....

I remember stepping out of my new convertible, well- it was technically a vintage. Cheaper.

I remember stepping out and seeing the place and seeing the soft and fluffy grass surrounding the place and the path to it. The air was this cool kind of humid, thick and warm, nice.

A nice door, painted this rich color of red with a wreath decoration, hanging with the window of the door perfectly in the middle. Now, see, that would've been pretty if it weren't for the fact I knew I'd be seeing creepy figures sticking their faces to stare at me through the cute round window at night, or maybe even during the day.

I made a mental note to avoid that door window at night as I went inside, looking back to make sure my trunk was locked. Summers were the busiest for a lot of things, so I came a little later in the afternoon, it was already sunset.

Grandma told me that the current people working there was just some old friends of hers. Some grandkids of other friends were part-timing at the place now that it was summer, but the main ones in charge were an old couple.

They were nice, and I told them about my situation along with what my grandmother offered me, even though it made me feel sick to confess it. The pity, guilt, I felt sick to my stomach, but I never let it show.

The idea of working at the lighthouse was honestly fine to me, I knew how to cook, I could clean just fine and it's not like the guests come to this place to stay in their rooms. The Wi-Fi is awful here, but the lighthouse is the main attraction. There are no ghost stories about the place, neither real nor fake, no real ones, I could tell based on the lack of how unwatched I felt, or perhaps those things hadn't caught up to me yet, and no fake ghost stories about the place either because the couple didn't want those.

One of them, the old man, his name was Joel, offered to help carry my bags to the room I could stay in. I declined. It wasn't much. The old lady, Annie, insisted but I still couldn't take it.

It was like I had traveled back in time when I walked through the place fully instead of just standing in the neat office and lobby.

1900s interior design. I couldn't remember the name before but here now in this other building I ended up in a little later, I looked it up.

Art Deco. Like the 1920s interior, so I think I knew how it kept such good business despite the competition, the cottage core on the outside was nice but the inside was rich and lavish-like, even though it also seemed a bit dry.

Just wooden carving designs for the interior, instead of a bunch of picture frames there was this huge scrap book filled with photos of tourists who took photos by the lighthouse and the surrounding area with descriptions underneath.

It looks like one of the part-timers worked as a photographer for any visitors.

There were no flower vases, little tables or carpets, just some grips on the stairs as Annie led me up to the second floor of the lighthouse.

The inn had two floors in the main building, and two sets of stairs. One led into the lighthouse tower, which is where they said my room was. It was a big place, and they said I'd be helping to make sure the light worked, and I'd need to buy thicker curtains for the windows if I wanted. The fabric was so thin it was still letting light through, the old couples liked it, but not me because I could easily imagine seeing a silhouette behind those curtains like I always used to with other fabrics, blankets weren't as comforting to me as a kid. 

The lighthouse has four floors, including the top open floor where the huge light is, my room was on the third. I'm not sure if I'll still live in this room in the future, but future me reading this will know that.

It was cozy, the bed and covers had this dusty smell not like it was dirty it was just a scent, but I liked it. It smelled calming, a bit of dust was like the smell of time freezing in place, it also smelled like the past thanks to a hint of cigarette in the air, Annie promised no one had smoked in this room in years, but the more lavish visitors used to frequently in the 1900s, so it just stuck.

I nodded but deep down I didn't care. I don't smoke and I doubt I would in the future, but whenever I smelled cigarette smoke, I always thought it smelled sort of nice. There was a little dresser, no closet, but an antique wardrobe they said I could put my clothes in. I've always wanted to see an antique wardrobe and now I got to use one.

I was told that if I couldn't find a job, they could use a security guard to watch the cameras at night. I think I mentally rolled my eyes at Grandma who was definitely mocking me at this point. Back when I had faith in her still, I told her of the things that haunted me, looking back, I was a naive fool.

I needed to find a good job, or at least one that didn't mind my paranoia, though that in itself felt like a big ask at the time. The inn was nice, it got customers and tourists, it just didn't have much open positions.

The drive from the High Sea Lighthouse (I'm not sure if future me will have forgotten this so I'll just put this here) to the city, from the near cliff side to further inland was a few miles away.

Usually, the eighteen-year-olds would go to fast food places or stores or gas stations or anywhere at the mall for a job. And I applied to those places back then, I tried again just a couple days before I moved out of the house. Of course, they either weren't hiring, were hiring but I couldn't reach their qualifications, or I kept messing up the interviews.

I wish I could ignore them, but every time I stare down a dark doorway or look at a mirror, I'll see that creature with its elongated, drooping mouth, staring and coming towards after every blink, but it's not there. Or other times, it's this thing crawling on the floor, using its jaw to move since the spine can't actually slither like a snake, and the bits of flesh still on it make it slippery.

Most of the time in mirrors in the dark, even just briskly passing by them, I'll see that woman mimicking me in a version that's greyed out with oily hair and teeth, like metal toothpicks, too many for each jaw and too long to fit in the mouth.

None of the interviewers knew what I could see, I tried hard to keep my eyes focused on them the way I practiced. I even ignored the vents when I felt the eyes rolling through to follow me through the building pipes. Yet I still failed to hide it.

My eyes must've darted, or I focused too hard at maintaining eye contact with the interviewer. They didn't seem in a rush to hire anyone any way, probably just looking at their options.

I really missed my old job at this big bookstore place. The owner purposefully let people think it was haunted in some way and actually wanted me there, I could flinch at the things no one else could see and he nor the other workers would give me trouble for the jumpy reactions I used to have. Sure, I was basically used like a customer magnet as that paranoid character, but it was alright, because it made my boss and coworkers more business, which made them happy. I was happy and didn't feel worried about my presence there.

Though I eventually had to quit. Long story, I don't think I'd forget that and even if I did, it'd probably be for the best.

It was, I think 7pm when I went out job searching? Online doesn't get me fast enough results nowadays, or for anyone for as much as I knew. But physically going to different businesses and filling out applications doesn't do much either.

It got dark pretty quickly; the sun went down about as quickly as my hopes of finding another job. I could see faces, or, bodies of things, and I forcibly blink or shake my head to stop seeing them.

I saw those things more often at night, but I could ignore them if I was in a crowd, or near a lit-up building with people.

The gas station I was at wasn't all that comforting but something good did happen there.

The receipt wouldn't print, I had to go inside to ask the cashier for it. I remember shivering not because it was old but because I remember seeing this person-shaped silhouette, skin like that of a potato sack, and no face. I remember seeing all that for just the couple seconds I walked through the dark to get inside and closed the door behind me quickly.

I noticed some other people around my age walking around the isles, looking for snacks. How I figured out they were around my age is because I heard about them talking about the internships and part-time jobs they managed to land at this place. I would also end up working with them just a little later.

I felt my chest cave in with envy and made sure not to make eye contact as I passed them by, going up to the cashier.

Considering my history of always feeling watched, I didn't bother to look over my shoulder when I heard footsteps eerily lose to me.

Probably should've.

One of those kids, the tall blonde woman, she had a long-braided ponytail, it looks more like rope.

She grabbed my shoulders before I could leave after getting my receipt, just spun me around and gave me this eerie smile, and then stepped back to tip her head like she was bowing. Pretty whimsical she was when I met her.

"Hello!" Her bright voice said, holding out a hand for me to shake.

"Uhh,,, Hello?" I remember responding, I hesitantly took her hand like I was worried she had a thumb tact between her fingers and was just preparing to stab me with it.

"You're eighteen, right?" She asked me, almost getting in my face.

For some reason I didn't mind when people got in my space, I don't know, I craved for any kind of interaction, uncomfortable or not, so long as they seemed to want to interact with me.

"The place we're interning at is looking for one more person to fill a position. Are you interested?" She eagerly asked me.

I think I just desperately nodded whilst keeping my hands to myself. I felt like she was hypnotizing me somehow.

The other kids with her, I don't think they were paying attention as they went to the cashier next, just buying snacks, like they weren't phased by her actions. My eyes darted between them and her.

"How far is this place?"

"Oh, not too far dear! We just walked a few blocks to this place, it's a nice building."

At that point, the whole "stranger danger" info didn't kick in, which was a huge surprise considering some recent memories I'm clicking my tongue to avoid remembering, I just really wanted to find another job. And they were the ones that hopped into my car anyway, the rustling of the snacks in their jacket pockets rustling gently, quietly.

The blonde girl led her two friends with her as she sat in the front seat. I was walking slowly with them, turning my head around, side to side as I wondered where that standing figure of weaved skin went, then squinting my eyes in the distance somewhere, seeing another one of those silhouettes again.

"What are you looking at?" Annabelle asked me, and it shook me out of my daydreaming.

"Nothing." I told her, what else could I say?

'Oh, I'm just looking around, making sure those human-like yet inhumane looking figures aren't gonna follow us.' That thought would've just made things uncomfortable.

The guy with black hair, he was quiet, but he signed something to me, a wave or like an awkward bow of his head as he got in my car, and the other passing by was just quiet, didn't really make eye contact with me, his hair covered his eyes often, so I don't know, but he said thank you. He sounded like me when I would say thank you, like it was practiced beforehand, I could tell.

I'd eventually learn that their names were Annabelle, Joon, and Vernon. Such interesting and pretty names.

Certainly, sounds better than 'Dove' which almost sounds dumb to me in a way. Just one mishearing away from 'dumb'.

I just followed her directions as we drove.

Now, the building is where I think everything went downhill from here. Or uphill? It wasn't all bad, but it was definitely, creepy at the start and is also the reason why I feel like I'm finally going to die by the hands of the things haunting me.

The big fancy red taping on the exterior design of this six-story looking building, literally carved out the words 'Macabre House'. But at least they had a parking lot.

When we got out of the car, none of them really slammed the doors, and they also didn't kick the doors closed either, I was glad. I really liked my car, especially the paint job.

It looked so vintage on the outside, that's not an impressive enough way to describe it considering Maine. But just like the High Sea Inn, it was like it was frozen in time, a building from the 1900s, the red brick has been turned brown and the window glass were clearly tinted black, those arch designs over each window. Too dark at the time to see what was on the roof.

It felt comforting in a way.

They led me to the double-doors that were at the flattened corner, those door knockers for handles, made of real cast iron from years ago. I figured this out later too.

There was even a sign, a name for each of the floors, posted beside the fancy double doors, all in different fonts.

B. 'Basement Library'

1. 'The Magic store'

2. 'Apothecary Floor'

3. 'Gym'

4. 'Private Detective Service'

5. 'Alchemist Lab' (No visitors allowed, special orders accepted.)

R. 'Rooftop Garden' (Reservations only)

There was no title for the sixth floor, at the time I assumed it's because they hadn't come up with a gimmick for that floor yet, so the sign skipped it.

I already loved the old style look of the building, but I had myself prepared for disappointment, assuming that the inside would be all modern with cubicles and all those shades of monochrome.

Red velvet floors, bright yellow wood material lining the corners connecting the wall and floor, preserved in something that made it shine. The walls were painted too. Some sort of art design. I felt good about the place as some of them looked knew, the building commissioned artists and that gave me a good feeling.

And then the walls and floor and ceiling changed as we entered the room of the first floor. From red velvet to another type of cozy cottage core aesthetic. Bundles of garlic hung from the air, along with candles of coffee beans around the corners, and unlike the other floors from the outside, this first floor had the most windows, and they were actually more transparent too.

Annabelle was sort of excitedly dragging me as we walked through the sitting room before entering the magic store, Vernon and Joon just following us calmly. Now that I look back, I realized why they didn't stop her, having only met each other, including her and me, just that day, they were slightly afraid too, and also feeling pretty introverted that day.

The magic store, no not like some store for magician props, well- there were some stuffs for that on one isle, but the rest of the items made it clear what kind of magic the store actually meant.

It was like witchcraft items; bottles and vials and other types of containers of plants in every type of condition, crushed, plucked, stacked, mixed together like trail mix in individual containers, straw dolls or rag dolls sitting neatly on the high shelves, followed by other doll crafting box sets underneath, there seemed to be even makeup or perfume made naturally from flowers and aloe vera.

I could tell from all the smell of honey suckle and lemongrass, there were a lot of homemade items sold in the magic store.

There was this beautiful lady, so gorgeous unlike any beauty I've ever seen, who waved at us as we all walked by. I think I remember hearing her say something quick to Vernon and Annabelle. I forgot what it was. I'd later learn he would deliver things to this floor, dropping it down all the way from the rooftop garden.

There was very neat and antique looking elevator all the way at the back of the room. Looking back, I would've squealed at the 1900s appearance of it, I still mentally do sometimes when I go up and down the building. There was that little plate next to it, the "Up" and "Down" buttons on an old stone-like plate.

The doors looked like artisan carved wood but separated like regular elevator doors, and it was back to standing in red velvet surfaces lined with bright yellow wood, I think it was wood, I never really asked. A little bench in the back for sitting and waiting, a little chandelier to brighten up the little square room, and no mirror. I was so grateful for that.

The buttons had these old and fancy fonts for the numbers and letters, Annabelle quickly pressed for 4, 5, and R.

She was smiling a lot but, in a way, it didn't really disturb me?

Bouncing in place on her feet as we all waited for our designated floors before my brain jolted and I remembered to ask her.

"So, which floor am I going to? And what kind of internship did you say was hiring?" I think I phrased it that way, but it definitely didn't come out as confident as the sentence is read.

"The detectives here need someone new! I think you'll fit right in!" Was all she told me.

"Wait." I remember trying it ask her. "Could you tell me a little more at least?"

But then we got to the fourth floor and she kind of stepped off, pulling me with her, everything was kind of a blur and she plopped me down at a desk of what I could only assume belonged to an equally surprised and confused employee there.

Annabelle patted my shoulder and said very quickly to him- "This is the person I found to fill in the intern position! She's one of us, I noticed. Anyway, I have to get to the gym floor now, bye bye!"

And she rushed off, leaving me there to sit awkwardly as she quickly got back into the elevator with the other two boys and the doors closed.

I felt like shrinking in that seat as the man across the desk, who was clearly busy with something on his desktop at the time, stared from the elevator to me with this surprised look in his tired eyes, and I could only stare back before shrinking away.

Mustering up my courage, I managed to say this: "I was told there was an intern position here.... I wanted to apply..." I still cringe at how awkward it came out.

He suddenly understood my reason being dragged there as he recovered and set his pen down, giving me a friendly smile.

"Oh, I see! Well, for starters, I suppose I should first welcome and introduce you to Macabre House."

They needed an intern for little errands throughout the building, along with a sort of secretary for organizing things. It was perfect, something simple I was good at and couldn't mess up, the detectives' floor was more of an in-between to sign up for it.

I remember adjusting my suit jacket. It was nothing fancy like what he was wearing but I guess I just wanted to try to force a little more confidence in myself through what I was wearing. He was sort of wearing a suit jacket too, though he wore it like a casual jacket over his normal clothes.

"Laurance, by the way." He said over his shoulder to me as he led me down the hall to safely be interviewed,

"Dove." I told him.

He told me this building was, in his words, "Sort of a special place, it's not suitable for people who can't handle certain morbid things, gore let's say.", and at first, I understood it as this place taking on gruesome cases while also dealing with a lot of dark stuff.

I mean, of course it would. Wouldn't be called 'Macabre House' for nothing.

The floors were more expansive than I thought, he led me down a hallway that I didn't notice before, I passed by some other people who sort of gave off the same vibe as him.

There was the woman in a white coat with what I had to assume was hair streaks dyed with illuminating rainbow colors, passing us by and talking with a man who looked like an angel of death in disguise. I saw the scar on his face for just a brief moment, so striking yet blunt and dull, going right across his face. I looked away quickly, hoping he didn't notice my glance.

Laurance opened the door to this room, and I followed him inside, I don't know why I was getting interviewed in the interrogation room, but looking back, he must've known that the open space with other people talking made me feel nervous. Or maybe they just had the best results of getting their most honest answers in this room.

A table in the middle, only two chairs sitting across from each other, and mirrors on all for walls, even the door. As soon as we sat down and I looked to where the door was again, I suddenly couldn't find it, I just saw the mirror of that wall.

"Don't be alarmed, you're not trapped, that's just the mechanism of this room." Laurance calmly said, taking out what I now later realized was a voice recorder.

It wasn't the trapped feeling I was alarmed of, I just didn't like mirrors. I knew the door was still there.

"Now then, are you ready to answer the typical questions, or would you like me to first tell you what kind of work goes on in this place?" He asked as he folded his hands in front of him, sitting square in front of me.

I felt meek compared to him, I tried to adjust my posture and sitting position to sit like him, like a mature adult who knew what they were doing. Though I'm sure that would be a laughable thing for an 18-year-old to try and exude.

"I... Tell me what kind of jobs are usually asked of an intern around here, I'm asking just because." I said, trying to sound confident and like I had planned it, but why did I say that last part? I didn't want to reveal that part.

I'll never forget it. In that room, that detective with his brown suit jacket and clothes of someone mature, sitting across from me with his head rested on the back of his folded hands, read me like an open book.

He raised an eyebrow, quirking it at me as he said- "You don't actually want to know that, do you? It's ok, you can be honest. I know that eighteen is usually the time most kids try to move out." I remember him saying.

My face felt hot all of a sudden, my hands gripped the top surface of my pants, but one of the few things I liked about myself was the ability to at least at calm. I just laughed nervously, and agreed with him, starting to spill out what I would normally never tell a random stranger, or even a close friend out of the blue.

"I just want to work as soon as possible." I said a little too honestly, but I didn't notice at first.

"I'm not good at a lot, but if it's an errand girl you need, I wouldn't mind." These were one of the words I practiced NOT to say in a job interview.

"I'm looking for a job and it doesn't matter what, and you need an intern, right? So long as it's a paid internship, I can dedicate myself to it." No interviewer would hire someone that said any of this outright! They at least prefer people who beat around the bush with subjects like this.

And yet, he smiled, to my responses or to himself I don't know yet, but then he clicked a button on the voice recorder, and then I sort of realized that he was looking at the mirror behind me for some time.

I suddenly got this chill down my spine as I took a chance and did what I practiced not to, to look over my shoulder while trying to converse with someone. The reflection of myself on the mirror behind him, was blocked by his body and I didn't have the nerve to tilt my head or body to look, the one behind me gave more of a chill.

I saw my reflection, but it wasn't copying me exactly. There was a girl that looked like me, sitting in the same four-legged chair as me, but she somehow looked like someone who couldn't hide the anxiety, the doubt and the sad smile I tried hard to hide.

I whipped my head around to see him smiling just a bit bolder as he lifted his head from atop his hands and nodded his chin up to the mirror behind me.

"Oh good, so you can see and hear it too. You seemed to notice quickly, just didn't comprehend it yet."

I asked him what this room was, less afraid and thoroughly confused, not wanting to say more. He said it was a room for interrogation of course, and before I could ask more, like a magician, he pulled some papers out of nowhere and placed them on the table, pushing them towards me.

"I think you'll fit well here, but the choice to join, after you fully read everything in that contract, is all up to you."