The Secret Drawer Stories

The hotel reflected the age and quaint character of the town itself. The town had gone through good and bad times but had survived to become a getaway destination to the large city just an hour away by road. The weekends tended to get crowded but on this Monday, the place looked empty. In fact many  businesses operated only on the last four days of the week. But for someone wanting a quiet day and night, Monday seemed perfect. 

The lobby felt dark as I came in from the bright sunlight outside. The furnishings were sparse and dark. The registration desk was lit by a table lamp. As I filled out the details on the form, the registration clerk told me that breakfast was included and was served from 7:30 till 9:30 in the morning pointing to the adjacent hall. He also showed me the door to the back garden area. He then handed me the room key - no electronic card here - and wished me a pleasant stay. I walked up to the second story room carrying the overnight bag taking the creaky staircase.

It was a small room. Really small. So small that if you took three steps into the room, you were likely to hit the other wall. On one side of this grand walkway, you had the bed and on the other, a chest of drawers. The bed was flush against the walls on two sides and the foot of the bed was just a couple of feet from the far (but not really far) wall. The only way to get on the bed was from the grand walkway. Add to this the fact that the bed was rather high and the whole thing had a claustrophobic effect which I assumed the website had described as cozy. 

As I took stock of all this, I dropped the overnight suitcase in the narrow gap between the foot of the bed and the wall while noting that I would have to place it on the bed to open it. The far wall had a window and an air-conditioner unit. The walkway ended at the window with a door to the right. I opened the door and was surprised to see a very spacious bathroom. It also appeared to be more modern compared to the main room. The hotel dated back to the late nineteenth century and the bathroom must have been added more recently. Maybe they stole some space from the room itself in the process.

All in all, a cute, quaint, and cozy room but it was too small. Beyond one night, one would likely feel cooped up. I decided to spend the rest of the afternoon walking the main street and browsing the shops that sold the inevitable tourist knick-knacks. I had dinner at a small diner and decided to turn in early for the night. I climbed on to the bed and sat up. Only then I noticed that the room did not have a television. Imagine that. 

Outside, the town seemed to have gone to sleep already. I wished that I had brought something to read. I got off the bed and opened one of the drawers although I expected to find nothing other than Gideon's bible. But there was no bible there. Instead there was a notebook with the intriguing words, 'Secret Drawer Society' written on the cover. It looked like the night was not a total loss after all. I picked it up and returned to the bed.

The notebook was a sort of a journal except it was not by one person. The pages were filled with entries by past patrons of the hotel who had stayed in the room going back a couple of years. Some thirty or so guests had left their memories and impressions. What a novel idea, I thought. I felt a sneaky delight as if I was reading a private diary.

Many of the entries were rather dull just sharing impressions about the hotel and the town. A grandmother having a day out with her granddaughter, or  a couple celebrating an anniversary. There were tips on what to see and such and recommendations for places to eat. But there were also some with more private thoughts. 

* * *

I walked out to the hallway outside and found the stairway to the back garden. It was a quiet night. I could not sleep and thought that stepping out into the garden would be good. Truth be told, I was feeling rather down having been told that my job was going to be eliminated. I had declined a fellow guest's invitation to visit the local bar. I did not want to tell him that I was a recovering alcoholic. I must confess that a part of me actually wanted to join him. 

I sat down on a bench in the garden and sucked in the cool wind. The sky was a riot of sparkling stars and looked magical. As I sat contemplating the stars, I was greeted by someone and turned to find a middle-aged man. 'May I?', he asked and I nodded and he joined me on the bench. 'Lovely night', I said and he agreed as we exchanged pleasantries. He introduced himself as 'Al' and said he was in Room 11. He seemed to be in a chatty mood and talked on while I mostly nodded and responded in monosyllables. 

He had overcome a drug habit after a long battle. What a remarkable coincidence, I thought. I had myself been sober these last four years. Suddenly, I was glad for his company for I had been feeling despondent and who knows, I might have fallen off the wagon that night. After almost an hour of mostly one-sided conversation, although my mood had improved, he said goodnight and went up the stairs. I too went back to my room and soon fell asleep.

In the morning, feeling refreshed and more cheerful, I went down to the dining hall for breakfast. I wanted to seek out Al and thank him for saving me. Not finding him in the dining room, I went looking for Room 11 but could not locate it. I stopped at the desk and asked the clerk and was totally taken aback when he told me that there was no Room 11 at the hotel! But I told him that I had met and spoken with Al who said he was in Room 11. The clerk shook his head and rolled his eyes. 

I was a little shaken as I started walking off. As I was reaching for the door, the janitor who was cleaning the lobby said to me, 'There was a Room 11 but it has been converted into a storage room now'. He then lowered his voice and continued, 'The previous owner used to stay in Room 11 often. He was known to be addicted to drugs and one night he died in that room as a result of an overdose. When the hotel was sold after that, the new owners decided not to use that as a guest room. It was quite a few years ago but many guests since have reported to seeing Al'. A ghost, for real, I thought with a little shiver. Well, at least I had not been hallucinating, thank God! Or had I?

* * *

Sunlight was streaming on to the bed through the window. I rubbed my eyes and looked at my watch. It was 9 O'clock and I realized I was late for breakfast. As I jumped off the bed and went into the bathroom, Gideon's bible fell down from the bed. Strange that I had picked it up from the drawer in the night to read. Stranger still, as I distinctly remembered that there had been no bible there. Somehow I had a vivid feeling that I had read something else, vaguely recalling Al from Room 11. As I returned the bible back to the drawer, I saw the notebook with 'Secret Drawer Society' written on the cover. Suddenly I had a spooky thought: Did I read that and not the bible? How did I end up with the bible? Did someone switch books on me while I slept? Did I actually 'meet' Al? I really did not want to know. I packed and quickly made my way downstairs with my bag. I did not stop to see if there was a Room 11.