The listing had said the Lover's Seaside Hotel had "old charm". It hadn't occurred to me that "old" didn't necessarily mean raggedy and rundown. It sat on a beach overlooking the blue-green sea. The bright white exterior was in immaculate condition and was adorned with intricate trim around every edge. A trail of pink roses lined either side of the walkway up to the door, which while antique, didn't make the slightest noise when I pushed it open.
The interior was even more spectacular. The space had a distinct elegance about it. From the bright gold chandelier above to the marble floor, it was as if the place was kept for royalty. The furnishings were plush and comfortable while still managing to be tasteful. It was nothing short of magnificent.
After checking in I made my way down the long hallway to my room for the weekend. Like everything else in this place, it was immaculate: polished gold frames on the mirrors, beautiful antique wooden furnishings, and even a—albeit smaller—chandelier in the middle of the room. I guess I should have known better.
I suddenly remembered the reason for my stay. The accommodations were outstanding, but what I truly sought was something even more spectacular...if it was even here. The prospect seemed undeniably impossible, but when you heard the stories...
The musings of the senile and crazy, or so it had seemed in the beginning. There seemed to be a threshold for how many people had to vouch for something impossible before the rest of the world believed that there may be a bit of truth to a story, if only a little. If what the musers had to say had any merit, then of course the hotel would be beautifully immaculate. The settings for the most tragic stories always seemed to be that way.
A soft breeze blew across the room causing a slight chill from the crisp ocean air. As I made my way to the window across the room, I realized my initial assumption had been wrong. The window was firmly shut. I took a deep breath as my heart fluttered and tried to remind myself that it didn't make any of the stories true. It didn't mean anything. I shouldn't want it to mean anything.
But still...
I'd made this journey for a reason. I wanted to know if the rumors were true. I needed to know if there was anything here for me. If there was, it would change everything.
I exited the room and made my way to the back side of the building. The stories all had this one thing in common. Everything people said, all the tales they told were set in the same part of the hotel.
I'd read so many descriptions of the French doors that led out to the garden that I felt as if I'd seen them a million times. As I stepped through them, I gazed in awe at the scene before me. I was surrounded by what had to be thousands of roses, only a single color represented in the whole lot: red. I walked slowly along the path, gazing upon them as I did. The sun was setting against the sea in the distance and brief twinkles began to shine in the air around me.
Fireflies.
It was a beautiful scene. So breathtaking, in fact, that I nearly missed the strange bloom in the corner closest to the beach. A glimpse of something else among the passionate red blooms surrounding me. I moved closer, believing it to be a trick of the light. But it quickly became clear that this was something different entirely. Nestled among a mass of red, almost completely concealed, bloomed a single blue rose.
A soft breeze blew through the garden. My breath caught in my throat as I froze. The twinkling around me seemed to intensify, growing brighter.
"Daniel?"
The woman's voice behind me didn't surprise me. It filled me with regret. Wishing to take back things I'd said, yearning to say the things I hadn't. Even if I did, it no longer mattered. Her soft, enchanting voice proved it.
I turned around slowly, bracing myself for the sight awaiting me. As she came into view I was mesmerized. She was just as beautiful as the day she died. But she'd never known it because I'd never said it.