The Twelfth Step

“This is your room,” the woman said to me as she turned the key and pushed open the door.

It was a very elegant room.  The bed had a dark and high headboard. The covers were layered with quilts to help keep out the chill of the Humboldt County nights. The lace of the curtains allowed the room to filled with just enough sunshine as to warm the place comfortable.

Placing my small leather case on the foot of the bed and said, “Thank you,” as the woman closed the door behind me.

This was the first time I had ever took lodging at the Charlotta Inn. I was planning to meet Mom and my step-dad, Del for dinner and spend the night at the once famous Inn.

The Charlotta Inn had been the stopping place at one time for movie stars and gangsters. Now it was considered off the beaten path and though it still drew a rare visit from a movie star or outlaw type, it had settled into its more conventional role of historical Inn and local watering hole that served lunch and dinner to the year round tourists and accommodated over night guests like me.

Its history had its moments of stardom such as appearing on film and in trial records during murderous acts. None was more sensational them those of the man rumored to have been shot on the front porch after a late night game of cards. This man managed to return to the front lobby and had climbed up the stair case but died, having fallen into the arms of his wife.

The man who shot him was never caught.

Having always heard these stories and enjoying them, I considering them both history and folklore at once. Yet I never paid any mind to the whispered notion of the ghosts that haunted the Inn.

I never had too as I had never stayed there before.

Meeting Mom and Del for dinner at seven as planned, we ate dinner and sat talking into the late evening. It was nearly eleven o’clock when they decided it was time to head for home. I offered to purchase them a room for the night, but they refused, opting for the comfort of their own bed at home.

After saying goodnight in the parking lot, I wondered out to the edge of the woods. I could hear the laughter coming from the bar as it echoed from the backside of the Inn. And somewhere in the short distance I heard a couple of pony’s nicker and whinny.

“I’m glad something’s haven’t changed,” I said to himself.

Again I heard laughter and loud voices from the bar. The night air was getting a bit chilly so I decided to wonder over and check out the tavern.

Once inside I was surprised to find only the barkeeper and two patrons.  They were watching television.

“Must have been the idiot box I heard,” I muttered.

I ordered a shot of whiskey neat, tossed it back and headed up stairs for the night.

Walking slowly up the stairs towards my room, I recalled warmly the wonderful evening I had just spend with my parents. I was also looking forward to some sleep. As I made the top of the landing I heard the distinct sound of high-heeled cowboy boots out on the front porch.

Inside my room I sat on the edge of my bed and labored to remove my own high-heeled cowboy boots. Once they were off, I wiggled his toes.

“It feels good to have those things off,” I thought.

Suddenly I heard a faint “popping” noise, much like a champagne bottles cork letting loose under pressure. Then I heard a door open and close hard. This was followed by footsteps on the outside wall by the head of my bed.

I felt more than heard a “thud” as something dropped downward and then against the wall, shaking the bed frame and me on it, this was followed a soft sobbing just beyond the wall.

Jumping up and racing around the corner, I peered into the dimly lit staircase only to see nothing but tapestry covered steps. I walked down to the bottom of the land and back up estimating where I had first heard the “thump” on the wall in my room which caused the bed to move.

It was twelve steps.

Continued up the remaining steps, I paused at the top long enough to look back at the empty stairwell. I returned to my room and went to bed, tossing and turning, thinking about the strange occurrence I though I had witnessed.

It was still on my mind as I woke up having dropped off some time early in the morning.i quietly showered, shaved and dressed, wishing to get down to the Inn’s restaurant before it closed.

It was hard not to recall the night before as I passed the very spot in the staircase where I felt certain the unusual noised had come from. I paused and shifted my weight on the twelfth step as if to test it, wanting to see if it made any weird noises.

It did not.

After breakfast I wandered out to his truck and turned it north on Highway 36 towards Mom and Del’s home. Still I couldn’t shake the strange feeling of the night before and how spooked it had left me.

As soon as I arrived at my parents home I told them what had happened. They did not seem surprised.

“I’ve heard others say the same thing,” Del told me.

I finished my story, and then it dawned on me that maybe I had heard more than the foot steps on the stairs.

“I heard a card game as well as horses tied up outside,” I thought.

I felt as sickening chill rush over my body as the idea came to me.

Later that night I was sitting in the living room when I decided he wanted to read.  I picked up an AA pamphlet and read the 12-steps on the back.

When I got to the final step and read the words, “Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps,” I stopped, having recalled the number of steps in the staircase.

My entire body shuttered as I quickly put the pamphlet down and fumbled for the television remote.