Full moon over Apalachicola Bay. Silver ripples like clouds dancing. The night was quiet. No traffic, no pedestrians walking through the fragrant night. Crickets sang in sweet magnolia trees. Jasmine bloomed on porch railings and a fat, black cat watched with suspicious eyes. Shadows moved mysteriously.
We had had a rather boisterous night in the hotel bar, but thankfully, it had ended early for a Saturday night. The hotel was a turn of the century, three story hotel with a cupola on top. I was working with another bartender and we were both tired, cranky, and anxious to get out of there. Trash bags were gathered up and dishes were washed hastily as the evening winded down. A summer wind whispered by us as we passed under an oak tree on our way to the dumpster. Someone walking a dog came down the street, whistling a familiar tune. We greeted them and went on our way.
Then, as we crossed back over the street, my companion stopped and began pointing at the cupola. ”Do you see it?” she asked. Indeed I did see it - the figure of a woman looking out towards the bay!
“No one is allowed up there,” I stated.
“Let’s go see,” she pressed.
Our reservationist at the front desk reassured us emphatically that no one could possibly be in the cupola because she had the only key to the stairway that led through the attic and up to the cupola. “But we both saw someone up there!” I insisted. She reluctantly handed us the key and we rushed upstairs, followed by the curious reservationist.
“This is creepy,” observed the other bartender as we climbed the ancient stairway. Suddenly, the overhead light began to flicker and fade, leaving us all in a deep darkness that seemed to press in upon us.
“Did you bring a flashlight?” I asked hopefully. But no one had. Panic began to set in as we realized we were stuck up there in the dusty attic, not knowing which way was which or how to find our way back into the stairwell.
Finally, our reservationist realized she had a cigarette lighter in her pocket, which she eagerly lit. The flickering flame cast eerie shadows upon the walls and bare rafters.
“Let’s find our way out of here,” I said.
But, to my amazement, my two companions were determined to see who was wandering around in the cupola. Reluctantly, I followed them to the steep stairway that led upwards.
We gingerly climbed the narrow steps, finally reaching a door that led into the small room of windows and mystery. The lighter was held high, so that we could easily scan the area for our intruder. No one was there, but the distinct scent of an old perfume permeated the air. “Let’s go!” I demanded. And believe me, we wasted no time in descending back downstairs and into the well-lit lobby.
The woman in the cupola has been seen several times since then, always by the light of a full moon. She also appears to be looking out towards the water, as if expecting something or someone to appear on the far horizon. And sometimes when I’ve had occasion to go up into that dim, silent attic in search of extra glassware, I can smell the scent of an old perfume.
