The Lost Hotel
Text by Krzysiek
Image: Fred — “The Lost Hotel”, Polaroid
This place, empty… in the past full of life.
“When you hear footsteps, you know there is no escape” — my father had been saying this since he started working here.
By the time I took it seriously, it was too late.
At first he heard them in the distance, then more and more clearly.
They came from the rooms, from the stairs, from the reception.
He kept repeating himself.
Damn, I should have listened to him.
He used to say he heard that “she” was approaching.
Who?
I could never understand. He said it couldn’t be described until you felt her presence.
I don’t know why I came back here. I guess I hoped to find answers, that this would let me forgive myself for not listening to him.
Just this feeling like you’re being watched…
Who was “she”?
People keep telling me to stop thinking about it, that it’s all nonsense, his imagination.
At least I know now that there is nothing for me here
This place has been abandoned for a long time
But where are these footsteps coming from?
