Mood Indigo ; tower of terror fanfic

[Takushi Rena]

Quickie note before I get into the story:
YouTube - We'll Meet Again by Vera Lynn
If anyone would rather have just an audio link, I have one. Make sure you listen to the song as you read! You'll see why. :]

--------------

The door slowly crept open.

Ding!

Her hazel eyes glanced out of the dark elevator. Her heels clicked out of the small, metal room. Her petite, long hands placed themselves against the cold, steel door as she stepped into the hall.

It was eerily dark. The hotel hallway looked deserted; abandoned. The only light came from the end of the hall, where a curtain fluttered before the ajar window.

The only sound was the wind. And a hauntingly melancholy song.

We'll meet again
Don't know where
Don't know when...

It echoed through the dark, eerie hall, as it were playing on floors above this one. It was quiet and slow. The haunting melody sang sweetly.

The woman straightened her simple black dress as she made her way down the hall. She must've been close. Her black heels stepped across the well groomed floor. Down the hall. Clicking with each step, as if they followed uncannily.

But I know we'll meet again
Some sunny day...

A chill down her spine. She stepped briskly. Her light brown hair flipping lightly. She twisted her head. To the right. To the left.

All of the hotel rooms had no lights. Not a single speck of golden light crept under the doors. There was no noise from any of them. Just silence. Stillness. Peculiar. Oddly enough, all of the numbers on the doors were peculiar... Backwards.

She made her way to the end of the hall. The music grew louder. She glanced at the numbers on the doors. Backwards?

Keep smiling through
Just like you always do
'til the blue skies drive the dark clouds
Far away...

At last, she came to the end of the hall. The music was the loudest here. She glanced out the window. There was seemingly nothing outside: just the ghostly violet light that hid beneath the white, fluttering curtains. Her heels clicked against the ornate carpet, muffled.

This corner of the room was the strangest one: not only because of the curtain and the mirror, but because of the dust. It was unkempt. It looked as if nothing there had been touched in years. Old plants swayed lightly in unison with the wind. The room had been cast with a haunting blue light.

Now, won't you please say "Hello" to the folks that I know?
Tell 'em it won't be long

Her hazel eyes darted onto the large, dark mirror. Its edges ornate and decorative. Covered in dust. But something was peculiar about the mirror. She looked closer.

There were doors reflected on the other side of it. She looked behind her, seeing no long, wide doors. In the mirror she looked once more.

The doors abruptly slid open. They revealed a crowd of smiling, laughing people. She had never seen people that looked so odd: they didn't look like they were in 1939.

She placed her long fingers against the glass. Her hazel eyes studied these people.

'cause they'd be happy to know that when you saw me go
I was singing this song

The glass became frosted. As if the cold blew against the other side of it. Where she placed her finger. Ice crept out of her fingertip.

She jolted back.

The clear ice became an indigo. The ice crept across the glass. It formed shapes. They were people! Just like those people on the other side of the mirror. Yet they looked terrified.

When strange, indigo lightning echoed through those icy shapes.

Suddenly, they disappeared. Why were the people on the other side of the mirror smiling?

The woman looked closer, placing her hands on the mirror.

Suddenly, the dark space pulled closer around her. It became nothing but black. Eyes wide, she glanced around. She tried to take her hands off of the glass. She couldn't! She tried to pull away.

Her hands grew from a reflected light blue. To an eerie indigo. Her skin became transparent. It was indigo. It was colour contaminated: like in a picture. Whatever colour was there was what colour her skin would take on. It had been indigo.

She looked desperately into the glass. She tried to scream, watching as the doors closed on the other side of the mirror.

Help! She wanted to scream it. She opened her mouth. She stared at her lips in the mirror.

But she wasn't in the mirror. No. Her reflection wasn't in the mirror.

She watched as the doors closer. Her hands loosened. She pulled one hand away. She formed a fist. Banging on the glass.

Help me! She wanted to scream. Her throat only groaned. No words came.

She looked at the crowd on the other side: they looked so happy, laughing and smiling. Excited. But there was one who didn't share that.

A girl. A teenaged girl. The woman looked straight at her. The girl looked straight at the woman, terrified.

The woman banged on the glass once more.

Help... me... She was desperate to speak. Where did her words go?

She watched as the door closed. As the girl continued to stare at that mirror. As she couldn't to stare at her.

Then. She was all... alone.

She slid her fingers down the glass. Her hands still pressed against the glass.

The woman was nowhere. But still somewhere.

On October 31st, 1939 at exactly 8:05 PM, an elevator rose desperately to the thirteenth floor, carrying five unlucky passengers inside. An actor, an actress, a child, her guardian, and a bellhop. They never made it to the twelfth floor. The elevator had been struck with an eerie green lightning bolt. And they went plummeting down the elevator shaft.

The famous Hollywood Tower Hotel was closed after that Halloween night. Their story has been told many times and the hotel beacons in more guests to learn the story. To find what truly happened that stormy night themselves.

But there is one untold story. A woman excitedly stepped onto a service elevator that night, determined to rise to the twelfth floor. At the Tip Top Club, there would be a party: right on the top floor. But, when she stepped out of the elevator, it certainly wasn't the twelfth floor. It was simply a dark hallway. With a mirror and an open window.

As she placed her hands against the glass. Darkness crept around her, pushing her against the mirror. Her transparent figure within the glass looked desperately out into the empty room. With the window on the other side of the room. With the hallway on the opposite side.

She had no hallway to return to. She only had a mirror to be trapped within.

In the Hollywood Tower Hotel, there was another ghost. She wasn't an actress or a child. She was a lonely woman who was once a bellhop. Who only wanted to take her invitation to the top floor, where only guests could go.

This ghost was named Joyce. And she was trapped within a most mischievous mirror. With only a haunting melody of an empty ballroom.

We'll meet again
Don't know where
Don't know when
But I'm sure we'll meet again some sunny day...

-------------

Explanation time! I thought of a story a while ago that I wanted to write for Halloween. I never wrote that story on Halloween, but I did write this one. I LOVE the Tower of Terror and the story behind hiding within the walls of that most ominous tower as it hovers over the unsuspecting movie studio. I've been on the Florida version lots, but my favourite effect/scene in ANY of the towers is the mirror scene, which looks a little like this:

http://www.photosmagiques.com/wdsfan...ror/mirror.JPG

This was a freewrite, so I apolgize if there's mistakes... or if it sounds rushed a bit. I definitely think I'll revise it lots but, for now, this is my little story. If anyone wants me to expand on it, let me know! I have more ideas than just this simple one. :D