He stood on the steps of the garden surveying the party. He didn't know the guests; he'd had a friend tell him about this hotel, and thought he'd give it a try. It certainly was a far cry from the Ramada's and Holiday Inn's he'd always stayed at before.
It was an old hotel, still called Carruthers Hotel, though under different ownership than the original old family, rebuilt on a smaller one sometime in the 1800's. And it was beautiful! It's Old World ambience seeped from the beautiful wood work and antique furniture. Even the bar, which he had just left, was modeled on the original, with just a bar to rest your feet, and a narrow shelf for your elbows. It was a man's bar; there were tables for the ladies, though it felt as though single ladies weren't encouraged.
Which left him wondering- what was the entertainment in this place? The bartender, an old fellow with a worldly look about him told him he was welcome to join the party outside.
His name was Niall. He had come from the UK to do business in Arizona, and usually it was straight there and back, but this time his business trip fell at the same time he had some earned days off, so he had taken advantage of the extra time to see some sights. His co worker, Liam, had told him about this place and warned him no matter what- don't skip it! But he never enlightened him as to why, and now here he was... bored to tears, and working on his third scotch. And fine scotch it was; he was already feeling the effects, even though he had been drinking it all his life. He didn't know what make it was; all the liquor was poured from beautiful antique cut glass decanters. But he wasn't about to complain. He ordered another one, and somehow found himself outside surveying the guests.
A few nodded or spoke as they passed him on the stairs, seeming friendly enough, but there was a sort of secret aura about them, as if they all knew something he didn't. That was alright, though, as he wasn't a gregarious person himself. Traveling a lot had taught him that; especially in the feminine department. He liked his encounters to be short and sweet, with no repercussions later.
He strolled slowly around the garden, nodding and speaking on occasion to some of the guests. It didn't appear that this was a party for anything special; rather just a gathering of the townspeople, or the upper crust of the town at least. He could hear waves in the distance, so he made his way in that direction, grabbing another scotch from the waiter's tray twice as he made his way towards the woods.
Just before he entered the woods he felt an urge to look back towards the hotel. Was he drunk already? He was feeling a bit wobbly, but that wasn't unusual- he was after all, very tired from his flight to New York, and then to Portland, and then the long ride to Callie's Rest, the town he had been told not to miss. But as he looked back he swore he saw a different party... all the guests were dressed either in high collared, stiff necked shirts and tails, or ball gowns of varying shades of greys and black, and off white. No bright colors- unless you counted the myriad of jewels that decorated the ears and bosoms of every lady present. It seemed as if a mist had settled on the party, even the string quartet sounding muted. Hadn't he just heard a swing band as he grabbed his last drink? He looked at the glass in his hand, and glanced back again and everything was as usual. Shaking his head he looked around and found a path thru the woods... the sounds of the ocean pounding on the rocks beckoning to him in some primal way.
As he walked he had the sensation of the woods closing in on him. He shook it off as nonsense and stayed on the path. But strangely enough, where he walked the path seemed quite clear, but he couldn't see it five feet in front of him and when he looked back he couldn't see it at all.
In fifteen minutes he was standing on the rocky ledge that overlooked the ocean. It was perhaps a hundred foot drop to the jagged wall of rocks that the waves were crashing into- as if to knock them down. The noise was quite loud, but strangely soothing, and combined with the scents of the salt spray and the pine woods, he became mesmerized. He found a comfortable looking tree, and sort of slid down it til he was sitting spraddled legged and feeling quite tipsy.
Did he fall asleep? All of a sudden he was chilled thru, though it was the middle of June. He knew it got chilly in Maine at night but this seemed a different kind of cold. He seemed to have shaken himself awake, shivering. He stood to get his bearings. The full moon provided plenty of light, but not being familiar with the night skies in America, he couldn't look at it and tell the time. He decided to make his way back to the party, and then to his room for a hot bath and a warm bed, when he heard someone crying. Or at least he thought he did; it stopped before he could guess the direction it was coming from.
He waited, and hearing nothing but the waves, he headed back towards what he thought was the path that had brought him here. He hadn't walked far when he heard the cry again. This time he could tell it was off to his left... some ways from the precipice... back towards the Hotel. He moved quickly toward the sound, and soon came upon a moonlit clearing. He stopped in awe, for this looked like the work of Faeries, though he hadn't believed in the Little People since he was six years old. The clearing was surrounded by ancient birch trees, their bark gleaming white in the light of the moon. The ground was covered with grass that looked as if it had never been trod upon, so soft and velvety. Over to one side was a strange shaped hump. "One of New England's famous rocks." he surmised, though it, too, was covered by the same luscious grass.
Feeling guilty though he had no clue why, he walked over and sat on the mound. He wanted to be still in case he heard the cry again, and he didn't have to wait long. He heard a sobbing behind him and turned toward the sound. There, coming toward him, was the most beautiful woman (girl?) he had ever seen! A mist had settled over the woods, somewhat dimming his vision, but thru it he could easily see that this lady was exquisite! She was very tiny (that's why his first impression was that she was a mere girl), but as she came closer he could plainly see she was all woman. She was dressed in some kind of antique night wear. He knew vintage clothing was popular these days but these clothes seemed made for this woman.