Every Halloween I like to release one of my scary short stories, so this year my offering to you is Hotel Lunata. I was inspired by the charming facade of a hotel in Playa del Carmen. Everything about the place was appealing and pretty, and if you wandered past the front desk, you would find yourself in a jungle-like open courtyard.

I believe you could take your breakfast in the courtyard, surrounded by all that lush vegetation. I imagine it’s a lovely place to stay. But then I started to imagine: what if it wasn’t?

A reminder my collection of spooky short stories, Then She Said Hush, is on Amazon, and free on KU!

Also check out my novels The Well of Souls and The Sibyl and the Thief; both the ebooks on super sale from now until the end of the month!

Hotel Lunata

by Cordelia Kelly

Everyone who passed by the entrance to the Hotel Lunata gazed at it in wonder, and Tara wondered why. It didn’t look like much. A dusty stone façade squeezed between a dive bar and a laundromat. Tara had seen dozens of similar hostels over the past few weeks. Something made Lunata different, though she couldn’t offer why. She sipped her cappuccino at a café across the street, watching from behind oversized sunglasses. 

Passersby paused in front of the hostel, whether they were aware of it or not, and let out a longing sigh as though a favourite dream had just come back to them. Most continued on their way. But after an hour a girl with a large backpack and untidy hair followed her dreamy look and entered. Tara sat forward. This might be the place she had been looking for.

She slipped a couple of bills under her empty cup and slung her woven bag over her shoulder, heading for the hostel. Over the threshold of the entrance, Tara paused as her eyes adjusted to the relative darkness after the sunlit street, pressing a palm against the cool stone wall. The air was spicy; somewhere, incense was burning.

Vibrations thrummed over her skin, the hairs on her forearms standing to attention. Her gaze sharpened as she inspected the lobby, the courtyard garden that lay beyond the reception desk.

A man at the desk leered, his gaze travelling over her body. He had a scruffy chinstrap beard and questionably clean clothing. Tara bristled but hid it well. Instead, she slipped off her sunglasses.

“How much for a room?” she asked. 

Front Desk Guy was slow to respond. He gave a lazy smile. “You’re big on eye contact, aren’t you?”

Tara tried and failed to smile. “You can’t trust someone who won’t look you in the eyes.”

He straightened and met her gaze. “You can trust me. I’m Miguel. Welcome to the Hotel Lunata. Once you arrive, you won’t ever want to leave.”

“I can see why.” Tara glanced at the front desk. The inside of the office was a disaster, covered in filthy dishes and unsorted papers. Miguel didn’t seem to care she could see it. “I’d love to stay, but I’m budget conscious.”

“It’s 30 for a room for the night. 15 if you want to share.”

She tried to stop her eyebrows from shooting up. “That’s…very affordable.”

Miguel scratched the back of his neck. “The beach is just around the corner.”

Tara nibbled her lip. A private room was a luxury she couldn’t afford since she’d been wandering the coast for weeks. “A shared room. Is there a discount if I stay for the week?”

His smile took on a mocking edge she didn’t understand. “Sure, I’ll give you a deal. 70 for the week. US dollars, cash only. ATM’s in the lobby.” He nodded to the machine.

“Okay.” 

Miguel looked at her expectantly. “Cash up front.”

“Right.” Tara frowned as she fumbled for her wallet, then backed up to the ATM to take out the funds for the week. Her savings were running low. If Hotel Lunata wasn’t what she was looking for, she would have to go home soon. Empty-handed.

She slapped the bills down on the front desk, and Miguel quickly made them disappear, replacing them with a metal key. “Room 16, third floor.” He narrowed his eyes and contemplated her before passing her a paper flyer. It was a cheap printout for a full moon party. 

“Tomorrow night,” he said, his eyes cold. “It will be a good time.”

Tara brushed off her sweating palm before opening the door to Room 16. The key was unnecessary; the door didn’t latch. She stepped into the room in dismay, unsure it was worth the price she’d paid. Piles of sand lingered in the corners, as did the heavy smell of dampness and unwashed bodies. A mattress lay in the corner of the room, heaped with a faded Mexican blanket.

“Ugh,” she said, balancing next to the mattress, reluctant to touch anything. No wonder the prices were so affordable, no one would stay a minute more than they had to.

Movement caught the corner of her eye, and Tara straightened in alarm. She hadn’t been paying enough attention. Her hand darted for the knife she kept in her bag. Since beginning her travels, she made sure it was always close. 

A hammock stretched across the other side of the room had an occupant, a girl so slight she barely made an indent in the fabric, holding a ukulele. Tara released the handle of the knife and wrapped her arms around her middle; she didn’t like being caught unawares.

“Hey,” the girl said. Her smile was as dreamy as the others, and she strummed her instrument. “I’ve been trying to catch the melody that plays through the hotel, but it’s elusive. What do you think?” She picked at the strings.

Tara gave her a faint smile. “I’m not much for music.”

“Really? I live for it. I’m Misty.” The girl stretched and set the ukulele down, swinging her feet to the floor. She wore baggy wrap pants, her hip bones jutting over the material. Her light hair was dyed a rainbow of colours, lavender to turquoise, like a mermaid. Like Piper’s hair.

Longing to see her sister was so sharp, Tara’s heart squeezed.

“I’m Tara,” she said, holding out her hand to the girl. Misty’s bones were palpable beneath her skin. “Where are you from?”

Misty’s smile faltered for a second before the dreamy look came back. “What does it matter? I’m here right now.”

“Right.” Tara wasn’t great at conversing with the travellers she’d met. Piper would have known what to say; she always did. She went with the flow and lived in the now, like Misty. Tara had to plan ahead no matter where she was going.

She squared her shoulders. She would have to be like Piper to find her. “Have you been here long?”

“Just got here yesterday. There’s a cool group of people staying here, you’ll like them.”

“Do you know where the bathroom is? I’ve been travelling for days and could use a shower.”

Misty wrinkled her nose. “I hope you brought shower sandals, because yikes.”

Of course Tara had shower sandals. It had been the first thing she’d bought after she started her search. She had never travelled far, and the reality of hostels had been horrifying. She didn’t understand how people could live in such a state of grubbiness. But then, she’d never really understood Piper, either. 

Happy for a moment’s peace, she stood under the lukewarm water for longer than necessary. The stress and exhaustion of three days of travelling by bus caught up to her. Her hair tangled over her slumped shoulders, and she shut off the water, defeated. What she wouldn’t give for a bath in her own home, the water hot enough to make her yelp, the porcelain pristine. 

But she had to keep on going. She grabbed her towel that barely wrapped all around her curves, wishing it was a fluffy robe instead.

The mirrors were fogged, so she wiped away a spot and rummaged in her bag for a comb. When she straightened, a set of eyes not her own were staring back at her from the mirror.

Tara shouted and jumped back. Her scrambled brain took a few seconds to process Misty standing behind her.

Heart hammering, she reached for the wall, then snatched it back as she saw the scummy black patch growing there.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. You mustn’t have heard me.” Misty giggled, amused at Tara’s reaction. Tara nodded, still struggling to find control. “I’m heading to the beach for the afternoon, maybe grab some food. Do you want to come?”

Tara met many people like Misty along her journey. Instant best friends, they wanted to do anything with you even if they had no idea who you were. You should be careful, she wanted to tell the girl blinking in front of her. I could be anyone. I could be a killer. But she just shook her head. “I need to get some sleep.”

“That’s cool, I’ll see you later. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.” Her smile got a teensy bit wicked. “And I do mean that.”

Tara groaned. She despised this place and couldn’t wait to leave.

Back in her room, she stripped the mattress and threw the blankets into a corner. Then she wrapped up in her own bedding, covering herself as much as she could while praying for the best, and let sleep wash over her in a wave of relief.

She didn’t wake until the next morning, harsh sunlight pouring in through the open window. No curtains or shades blocked the onslaught, and Tara winced as she glanced outside. Across the street, a family of rodents crossed the rooftops of the shops, and just beyond that the sparkle of the sea was barely visible.

Was this where Piper ended up? Tara hadn’t heard from her in months. The last text Piper sent was a quick one, that she’d found a hostel with affordable prices and tons of charm. If she squinted, Hotel Lunata might fit the bill. Piper had seemed very excited. She mentioned it was the kind of place that pulled you in. Tara didn’t know what city she had been in, what country, only that Piper was in this part of the world. When her texts stopped and no responses came to her increasingly urgent messages, Tara gathered her limited savings and followed her sister.

She pulled out the invitation to the Full Moon Party. It promised a magical evening. Is this what Piper had been looking for? Her wandering older sister, never content to stay in one place, to just enjoy what she had. She was all tattoos and bright hair and longing, and Tara never understood why. She preferred her home. Give her a comfortable bed, one that was clean, preferably.

But Piper had always been there for her. So Tara would be there for her now. She would be the one to find her.

The hammock shifted as Misty woke. She blinked, sleepy and satiated, her skin a little burned around the edges.

“You were out hard! I’ve never seen anyone sleep that long in a place like this.”

“I’ve been on a bus for a long time,” Tara said, mumbling.

“I was envious. You look so peaceful when you sleep.”

Tara cast about for something to say; she was no good at small talk. “What time did you get in?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Misty waved a hand. “Two, maybe? You missed a wicked party down by the beach.”

“Right.”

“But don’t worry, I hear the real place to be is the full moon party tonight.” She nodded to the paper in Tara’s hand. “Everyone who’s been before say it’s insane. Nobody can even remember exactly what happened, just that they felt amazing afterwards.”

Tara read the words a magical evening. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Want to head to the market to grab breakfast?”

“Sounds great.” Tara hesitated, then pulled out the latest picture she had of Piper. In it, her sister winked at the camera, tongue out, piercing on display. “First, have you seen this girl?”

Misty’s face crinkled with concern as she took the picture, examining it from a few angles. “I don’t think so. Who is she?”

“My sister. I haven’t heard from her in a while and I wanted to make sure she was okay.”

“You’re such a good older sister.”

It wasn’t the first time Tara had been mistaken as the older sister – she was the responsible one, the one who made sure things happened on time, to ensure Piper got to her exams on time. She didn’t correct Misty.

“Don’t worry.” Misty handed back the photo to Tara firmly. “I know tons of people here and we’ll talk to everyone. If she’s been here, we’ll find out.”

Tara gave her a lopsided smile, happy to have found an ally. Misty had all the extroverted self-confidence she lacked.

Misty looped her arm through Tara. “We should ask Miguel,” she said as they approached the front desk. “He sees everyone coming through here.”

Tara was reluctant to show her sister’s photo to Miguel. She didn’t like how he had looked at her. But the front desk was empty, other than a sign reminding them of the full moon party in the garden courtyard. 

The stones were already hot beneath their sandals as they wandered the streets. Tara tied her hair up into a high bun to keep it off her face, but Misty let her coloured tresses snaggle over her shoulders. She kept up a patter too quick for Tara to catch. She jumped when Misty looked at her, waiting for a response. “Sorry, what?”

“Fried food for breakfast? There’s a cheap little stall by the beach.” Tara nodded and followed her.

True to her word, Misty knew many people, stopping to chat with everyone, calling them by name. People opened up to her, just like they did with Piper. Piper was kind to everybody. She was especially kind to Tara and would introduce her to her friends, keep her close to make sure she was comfortable. Whenever Tara was bullied, her big sister would stomp in to take names and make sure it never, ever happened again.

Tara blinked back tears. What if she couldn’t find her?

Misty slipped her arm through Tara’s as though reading her thoughts. “You’re a good sister.”

“I feel like if I were a good sister, I wouldn’t have lost her.”

“That’s not true. And look at you now, tracking her down. I wish I had a sister like you watching out for me.” Something dark passed over her face.

“But you’re so brave, able to go anywhere and talk to everyone.” Tara was certain Misty didn’t need an older sister making sure nobody bullied her, because she went to a special school and nobody understood her. But Misty shook her head.

“That stuff has always come easy for me, so it hardly makes me brave. I get the sense that you’ve had to come out of your shell to look for Piper. That takes guts.” She pointed at a dingy café, with swings hanging from the rafters instead of seats. “I recognize someone. Let’s check it out.”

Misty handed around the photo once more. Most of the travellers glanced over the picture and shook their heads or commented that she was hot. Finally, a white boy with dreadlocks near the back waved a joint to get their attention. “Yeah, I think I saw this girl.”

“Really?” Tara rushed to his side, staring at his face intently. “When did you see her?”

He squinted. “It would have been a while ago. I was here, like, months ago, and then I left to go surfing down south. I found the most amazing mushrooms and was tripping for like, days.”

Tara waved her hand. “But you were here, and you saw her?”

“I think so?” He shrugged and gave the photo back. “At the hotel with the music.”

“Hotel Lunata,” Misty said, bouncing on her toes. “Tara, she must have been at our hotel.”

“Yeah, I stayed there and I’m pretty sure she did too. That place had me tripping without aid, know what I mean? I missed the big party everyone was freaking out about. I had to meet a friend down the coast, but I wished I had made it.” That dreamy look slipped over his face.

“The full moon party.” Tara’s eyes were wide. Finally, a break.

“We’ll go back and talk to Miguel. He must know something.”

“I’m afraid he will.” Tara took the picture back thoughtfully. “But first, do you want to go to the beach?”

Several of the kids in the café joined them. Misty followed Tara until she found a vendor at the side of the road selling instruments. She darted over, gazing at the wooden wind instruments with longing. “They’re so beautiful.” She ran her fingertips over a set of panpipes decorated with intricate ink designs. Then she set into a hard and fast negotiation with the merchant, which Tara didn’t even try to follow.

Misty emerged triumphant with the panpipes and blew into them experimentally.

“Have you ever played before?” Tara asked.

Misty shook her head. “Not pipes, but I have a flute at home.”

Then she played them, her eyes fluttering shut with joy. Others around her gave admiring glances, some stopping to listen.

Misty finally came out of her reverie with a lazy smile and there was a fluttering of applause. “What do you think?” she asked Tara.

Tara’s smile was bittersweet. “I think it must be good, but I don’t really get music.”

“For me, it’s like water, like air. I couldn’t live without it. My family never understood. They wanted me to do something substantial with my life.” She puffed out her chest. “Why can’t you be a doctor, Misty?” She rolled her eyes. “I mean they named me Misty. What did they think was going to happen?”

“I’m going to start pre-med in the fall,” Tara said. For some reason, this struck her as hilarious. Misty laughed along with her. 

“Well, it suits you. I think you’ll make an excellent doctor. But me, I’ll make an excellent panpiper.” She crossed her eyes as she blew into the pipes again, which made Tara laugh even harder.

They wasted the day wandering the city streets. Every time Misty suggested heading back to speak with Miguel, Tara would put her off. Elated at getting a lead on Piper’s whereabouts, she was strangely reluctant to return to the hotel. Something was off, but she didn’t know what yet.

The sun had long gone down by the time Misty convinced her to head back. “Come on,” she slurred, after taking a second shot at a beach bar. “We can’t miss the party.”

Tara gazed up at the full moon, glowing from behind a thin gauze of clouds. “No, we don’t want to miss it.” She hadn’t drunk anything, not since she had started her search. She was too worried she would miss something. And now she had found a clue, she needed to be sharp.

A thin trickle of people entered the lobby of Hotel Lunata. They all had the same look: too skinny, sunburnt, threadbare clothes. The markings of wanderers. Those who would not be missed.

Tara stopped, watching them. What was it about this place that pulled people in? Glancing at Misty, she saw the girl was entirely enraptured. Her eyes were huge, glimmering in the light with unshed tears; her lips moved as though in prayer.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Tara said. Misty’s mouth fell open. 

“I can’t miss it. I would never forgive myself.” She walked away from Tara towards the entrance.

Tara followed behind Misty. As she entered, the vibration rippled up her arm, and Tara wondered what it was the others experienced. It seemed nobody was thinking clearly, or even at all. Something in the open longing on their faces that made her wish she could experience it too, if only for a moment. 

The front desk was empty, but they didn’t need directions. People came down the stairwell as though in a trance, pulled by an invisible riptide towards the dark garden.

As she entered the courtyard, Tara’s sandals sank into spongy grass, and she gazed at the sky. The clouds were gone, leaving a clear view of the full moon casting eerie silver light on the lush jungle plants. As she followed the path, the light grew brighter. A weird glowing lantern made of bulbous segments protruded from the ground at the centre of the courtyard. 

More and more people gathered in the clearing. They approached the lantern in awe, kneeling in a circle around it.

Tara watched in confusion as one after another a young traveller knelt, reverent. How did they know what to do? Then Misty knelt next to her, so Tara dropped to her knees so not to stand out.

Close up, she realized the lantern wasn’t a lantern at all, but an enormous plant sprouting from the earth. It grew tall and straight, curling over at the top like a misshapen caterpillar standing on its back legs. Along one edge, frilled tentacles lined the edge of a long lip, rippling slightly on the breeze. It emitted the same silvery glow as the moon, lit up like a beacon.

The vibration Tara had felt earlier was even stronger, passing along her skin like wind. The waving tentacles moved in time with the vibrations. They must be creating a sound, the music that entranced the others. Tara’s hair stood on end.

Someone wasn’t behaving like the others in the courtyard. Miguel lounged at the side of the clearing, arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face. Tara whipped back to look at the plant as he perused the crowd. When he turned away, she risked a glance back. He wore neon orange earplugs.

Misty’s whole body trembled, and the force of it pulled her up from her knees. Enraptured with the music she must be hearing, she danced, twisting her body faster and faster, her hair whipping out behind her. Tara had never witnessed someone so entirely taken in their passion.

As Misty approached the plant, the seam where the frills waved began to split, opening like doors or loving arms. The silver light grew brighter, washing Misty’s colouring out until she appeared to be glowing white. Without hesitation, she stepped within the embrace of the tentacles, and the lips began to close in around her.

A frown creased Misty’s face, which up to this point had been utterly free of care. The tentacles wrapped around her, and her eyes opened wide in panic. She opened her mouth to scream, but a phalange wrapped around her face. Then the lips closed, and the rest of the courtyard kept on swaying, enraptured.

Without thinking, Tara sprinted to the plant, pulling out a knife she always kept on her. She got to the plant and plunged the knife deep into the side.

The lips shot open as though the plant screamed. The others stopped and froze, eyes wide and staring. Inside there was Misty, covered in tentacles and dripping viscous liquid, her face caught in a rictus of agony. Tears and snot dripped down her face, over the clinging vines that ripped into her.

Tara reached for her, pulling some of the tentacles away. Each one left behind a bright red mark, and trickles of blood. Misty got a hand free and started to rip at the vines, when something hard tackled Tara, knocking the wind out of her as she hit the ground.

The knife fell to the ground as Miguel landed hard on top of her.

“You’re going to ruin everything.” She read his lips, the panic and fury in his widened eyes. “What is wrong with you? You’re not normal.”

His hands went to her throat and squeezed. The world went dark around the edges. 

“At least I’m not a fucking monster,” she said and clawed out his earplugs.

Miguel screamed, scrambling as he tried to cover his ears. But then he calmed as his body was caught up in the same swaying as the others, and he moved inexorably toward the plant.

Misty, sobbing, had managed to get partly clear of the monstrous plant, but tentacles grabbed her ankles and reeled her back in. Tara struggled towards her, slashing at the vines that held her captive. Misty tore her way free, and Tara rolled out of the way as Miguel entered the silvery embrace of the plant.

Numb with horror, Tara chopped at the base of the plant with her knife. Every cut sent a wave of burning liquid over her hands. The plant whipped, frantic, tentacles flailing out in all directions, but she kept at it.

She reached a central root. The plant reared up and froze for a second, then slumped forward. It fell with a heavy crash to the ground, oozing silvery fluid. She kept on sawing, even as the others in the courtyard slumped over onto the ground. Only when the plant had been entirely detached from the ground did she turn.

Everyone gazed in horror. “What’s going on?” they mouthed. One boy shook as he looked down at the plant. A lifeless arm dangled from the frilled seam.

Tara grabbed his shoulder, shaking him out of his stupour. “Call an ambulance,” she said, repeating it until he nodded. “And the police.” She gazed at the half-digested man. “I think this guy was a serial killer.”

Misty, hunched over, tried to get up and fell. Tara came to her side, pulling her away from the plant. The wounds covering her body were deep, and acid burns spread over her skin.

“Where did the music go?” she asked. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Tara could only shake her head.

The survivors gathered in the front lobby. The enchanted sheen of the hotel had faded, and no passerby gazed as though they wished to enter. As the emergency services finally arrived, people scurried to the other side of the street.

Misty was loaded onto a stretcher, and Tara grasped her hand. “You’ll be okay,” she said. Misty nodded, eyes hazy with painkillers.

Tara waited only long enough to give a police officer a statement before shuffling out of the hotel. Someone grabbed her arm, telling her they had found a room somewhere else and they were all going to crash there. She didn’t think, only followed, collapsing on a mattress before she fell into a dreamless sleep.

The next day she went to the regional police office for more answers. The detective she spoke to said they dug up the earth in the courtyard and found enough bones for a graveyard. Also, the man who owned the hostel appeared to be partially eaten by a giant carnivorous plant.

“I think it pulled people in with a sound, something that compelled them to go to it,” Tara said. “Every full moon it would eat.”

The detective stared at her, his lips twisting. “But you weren’t compelled. How?”

Tara gestured to her ears. “I lost my hearing in an accident a decade ago. It had no power over me”

“How are you talking to me now?”

Misty shrugged, used to the question. “I’m good at lip reading. My sister taught me.” A lump formed in her throat. “She was here, my sister, a few months ago, and hasn’t been heard from since.”

The detective’s mouth thinned. “This guy, Miguel Santos, didn’t keep good records, but he did rob the victims. We found a treasure trove of stuff in the back of the hostel.” He trudged to another room, where several people were sorting items. Tara’s breath caught in a strangled cry as she made out the colourful woven bag she recognized, an exact match to the one she had. Piper had given it to her before she left to explore the world.

“Piper.” She started sobbing. She’d known, hadn’t she, deep down? Piper was gone.

She didn’t hear the detective’s words of consolation, if there were any, but his hand rested heavily on her shoulder.

He let her cry in the waiting room, before telling her he would release Piper’s effects to her once they had been processed.

He also gave her information about where Misty was recovering. “She’ll survive,” he said. “But she’s going to need a friend.”

Happy Halloween, my spooky friends!