I, dear reader, have always been plagued by fear and melancholy for as long as I can remember.
When I was seven years old, I can remember there being a giant closet in the room my siblings and I slept in. I found sleeping to be rather hard to come by in those days. When the lights went out, the closet would become a gaping void of darkness. I could swear there was a ghostly presence lurking within: waiting to extend it's horrid tentacles and drag me into the void to never be seen again.
It is because of this, at the age of thirty one, I can hardly sleep in total darkness or total silence. Additionally, I prefer to sleep with a favorite stuffed bunny for comfort: a good friend I call Lemony, as he smells of lemons. Alas, the tales I have to tell are also of no help to my anxious nerves and sleepless nights. And so I wish to warn you, if you wish to acquire a good nights rest and need no comfort from plushies, you’d probably best find another set of tales to entertain. For what I write of details my experiences and research. Much of it is well too grim.
At the start of my journey, I had pulled in to a place called Hopeless Harbor. I was merely traveling at the time and somehow my travels led me there. It was a coastal town that resided against a cliffside, mostly as a shipping and fishing spot. It wasn't the most pleasant location by any means for it was always overcast with barely a ray of sunshine to be found. The air was thick with the smell of rotting fish, old wood, and sea water. The people themselves were either surly, grumpy sailors who'd had a bit too much to drink after a long, tempestuos journey in the ocean. Or they were old, cantankerous merchants and residents who were as decrepit as the ships that floated in the harbor. There was hardly a child or young adult in sight, save myself of course.
At the time I was planning to pass through and visit a town northeast called Sleepy Valley. I’ve always been partial to the woods and with it being fall, Sleepy Valley was particularly beautiful at this time. But when I arrived at Hopeless Harbor, it was late and I had not slept well the night before. Seeing that I still had an hour’s journey ahead of me, I figured I would find a hotel and settle in for the night.
I stopped at a small hole-in-the-wall fish and chippery called The Anglers Maw to get a small bite to eat and, since I had no map, to possibly ask for some directions. Upon stepping out of my vehicle, I was met with a sharp, icy cold wind from the stale sea air. In response, I closed off the thin coat I was wearing and hurried inside. I was met with incredulous stares from all angles once I was inside.
“Just take yer seat and I’ll take yer order in a moment!” A gruff, assertive voice called from the register counter. I would presume it was the manager on duty. He was a heavy-set man wearing a greasy tank-top and apron. He bore a black eye-patch over his right eye, coarse grey hair, stubble that looked as rough as sandpaper, and he was most assuredly as ornery as every other patron of the establishment.
I sat down in the closest seat next to me: a little two seated table near the front window. I sat and observed my surroundings as I waited. The other patrons had decided to pay me no mind and go back to quietly eating their meals. There were tons of old pictures of the town plastered all over the wall in between odd trinkets of fishing gear and trophies: including a brass placard lauding the restaurant as Hopeless’s #1 Fish-and-Chips Restaurant. None of the pictures made the town look any less gloomy. But one or two items stood out amongst the rest. One stand out was of a newspaper clipping from a local newspaper called, “The Hopeless Harbinger.” The article cut out had the title, “MYTHICAL ISLAND SEEN AIRBORNE OFF-SHORE”. Next to the title was a blurry, black and white photo of a large, cloud enveloped mass of land floating in the air.
The next item of note was a stain on the wall with a symbol I had never seen before: it looked like an eye atop some geometric octopus tentacles: each holding an odd symbol or glyph I could hardly describe here. This symbol made me feel uneasy. Perhaps it was the combination of the poor lighting and my exhaustion, but I was sure for a moment that it blinked while staring directly at me.
It was at this moment that the man from the counter, named Jack on his namebadge, finally approached the table and broke my mental wandering.
“Alright stranger.” He started off handing me a menu. “What ya be hankering for tonight?”
I took the menu and looked through the options. There weren’t very many so that made it easy for me to make my choice. Still, Jack stared me down intensely as I looked for something decent to eat.
“I’ll just have a small fish n’ chips platter and some water please.” I said while I handed the menu back.
Jack took the menu with more force than was necessary and wrote the order down on a small worn out notebook.
“Alright then.” He harrumphed. “I’ll get that right out fer ya.”
“One more thing.” I said before he left. “Would you happen to know where the closest hotel is?”
Jack eyed me down with a squint in his eye before he spoke again. Others also made side glances in my direction. Though they tried as best they could to mind their business
“This town ain’t the safest fer tourists and strangers.” He said with a low voice. I could tell there was a tinge of genuine concern, in spite of his seemingly rough attitude. “But if ye must stay, The Motel De Muerté is stationed at the top of the cliffside.”
“I-I see.” I stammered a bit. “Thank you.”
“Bah. Don’t thank me.” Jack responds. “Just promise me ye will leave as soon as yer able.”
I hesitated for a bit, but before he could leave I felt compelled to stop and ask one more question.
“If you don’t mind sir,” I asked. “But what is that symbol on the wall there? And why is this town called Hopeless Harbor?"
There was an audible gasp from two of the nearby patrons. Jack turned around, threw his massive, calloused hands on his face and rubbed his eyes with exasperation.
“Ye are a curious lad arn’t ye?” He said. “Tell ye what. Rather than hold me up with all yer questionin', why don’t ye stay till after closing? I’ll answer yer questions then.”
I gave a quick nod at his suggestion and let him go on his way.
Moments later, the food came out. He handed it to me with a bit of a tired frown.
"Here's yer order." He said with an irritated grumble. "Hope ye like it."
"Thank you." I said receiving the plate.
As Jack left the table to go about his usual business, I began to dig in eagerly. The food was surprisingly good, albeit extremely greasy. But while I ate I could feel everyone's gaze upon me. No doubt these people were not used to seeing random strangers in town, nor did it seem like they wanted travelers.
An hour went by though and in no time the last customer had left exchanging a nod with Jack. Once they were gone, Jack closed and locked the door. Then he pulled up a chair and sat at my table.
"Alright. Ye better make this quick." He said: the irritation in his voice still very much present. "I gotta get me shop cleaned up and ready fer tomorrah."
I nodded aggressively and began to speak.
"Well like I asked earlier." I said. "Why is this place called Hopeless Harbor? Why is it dangerous for strangers to stay?"
Jack shuffled a bit and closed his eyes as he thought about how to respond.
"Hmmm...Well." He started, leaning in to start his tale. "Long ago, the harbor was started by a small colony of fishermen. They say that back then, it was called Hopeful Harbor. It stayed that way fer years until one day, folks in the town started having strange dreams."
"Strange dreams?" I said listening intently.
"Aye. Ghastly ones at that." He continued. "People would wake up in the dead of night frightened out of their wits: some being so scared they careened off the dock in terror. These dreams would be the same across all persons. They'd awake in some dark and empty place, feeling the wrath, anger, and hatred of a being unseen. They'd sense something was watching them and ready to destroy them. No matter where they’d run, it was inescapable and constant…as if they had displeased some vengeful spirit."
"Is that so?" I continued.
"Aye. The collective despair was too great fer everyone." Jack continued. "Such that many in the town took their own lives. The loss was great, and we were named ‘Hopeless Harbor’ to warn all strangers and passerby’s lest they too take their own lives."
“How is it you and the others aren’t affected?” I asked.
Jack thought a bit more. I could tell the gears were turning.
“Wish I had a clear answer for ya .” He said with a shrug of his burly shoulders. “I’ve had me fair share of awful dreams. But I’ve found some crucifixes scattered about me house helps mighty well. I’ve recommended it to all me mates. Others, I can’t say for sure. They have their own means. Perhaps they grit n’ bear it.”
“I-I see.” I said as my hands pulled out a small cross necklace from underneath my shirt. “This…might come in handy then.”
“Aye.” Jack says. With some incredulousness. “But just in case, I may hand ye a larger one.
“Alright then.” I nodded. “One more question before I leave, what is that symbol there? The one that’s stained into the wall?”
Jack turned around to look at the symbol with the eye on the octopus tentacles.
“Oh that.” He says with a small, grim chuckle. “Well none of us know. Me and me mates have tried to remove it, paint over it, even cut out that section of the wall. But for some reason, it still shows up eventually.”
I raised an eyebrow in some surprise.
“We’ve learned to live with it. I can’t sell the place anyhow.” Jack continued. “But I’ll be damned if I didn’t admit it didn’t make me uneasy.”
“Strange.” I responded with a yawn. “Well that’s all the questions I have for now. I best be going so I can get some sleep and so you can prepare for tomorrow.”
“Aye that’s a good lad. But hold yer sails really quick.” Jack said before getting up and rushing to the counter to rummage through it. “What was yer name?”
“Peregrine Thorn.” I said.
“Well then Mr. Thorn. I wish ye a good nights rest.” Jack said as he came back and handed me a medium-sized wooden cross. “Take this here crucifix with ye. Rest it near yer bed when ye sleep.”
“Noted.” I responded.
I shook Jack’s hand, gave him the payment due for the meal, and left the Angler’s Maw. The lights immediately shut off and I stood there yet again in the dark, cold air of Hopeless Harbor. I stood and pondered what I was told for a bit before finally having enough of the chilled, salty air. I immediately got into my car and started my drive up the cliffside where the Motel De Muerté was supposedly located.
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