Episode 28 - The Eldridge; a haunted hotel with a portal to the past
This podcast episode delves into the haunting narrative of the Eldridge Hotel, an establishment steeped in opulence yet shrouded in mystery. We explore the unsettling occurrences that transpire during its restoration, where reports of ghostly apparitions and inexplicable phenomena plague the workers. Central to our tale is James Harrow, a retired detective drawn back into the fray, compelled to confront the spectral echoes of a tragic past. As he investigates, he becomes entwined with the spirit of Maureen, a woman whose fate is intrinsically linked to the hotel’s dark history. This episode invites listeners to ponder the boundaries of reality and the supernatural, as Harrow’s quest reveals a profound connection between past and present, ultimately altering the course of both his life and Maureen's legacy.
The narrative unfolds around the Eldridge Hotel, a once-majestic establishment now falling into disrepair, embodying the ghosts of its glorious past. As the new owner embarks on an ambitious restoration project, unsettling occurrences plague the property. Workers report inexplicable phenomena, including flickering lights and eerie sensations that hint at the supernatural. The atmosphere thickens with suspense as a worker mysteriously vanishes, prompting the intervention of James Harrow, a retired detective drawn to debunk the hotel's ghostly reputation. His investigation leads him to a haunting vision of a woman named Maureen, entangled in a tragic narrative that transcends time. The episode intricately weaves themes of loss, obsession, and the enduring resonance of unresolved history, compelling the listener to ponder the boundaries between past and present, reality and the spectral.
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Transcript
Imagine a world teetering on the edge of the familiar, a place where the fabric of the everyday begins to unravel, revealing glimpses of the extraordinary lurking beneath.
Speaker A:You're about to embark on a journey into the enigmatic, where the peculiar and the perplexing intertwine, where every tale twists the mind and tugs at the spirit.
Speaker A:It's a descent into the strange, the mysterious, and the unexplained.
Speaker A:This is when reality frays.
Speaker A:New episodes are published every Monday and Thursday, and when Reality Phrase is available everywhere, fine podcasts are found.
Speaker A:Before we move on, please hit that Follow or Subscribe button and turn on all reminders so you're alerted when new episodes are released.
Speaker A:Today's episode contains one story entitled the Eldridge.
Speaker A:The Eldridge Hotel sat at the edge of Willow Creek, its Gothic spires stabbing into a sky heavy with storm clouds.
Speaker A:It was from a different age, when there was no such thing as too much opulence.
Speaker A:In its day, it had hosted presidents, movie stars and titans of industry.
Speaker A:Its staff was impeccably trained and paid handsomely to ensure their silence about any guests, actual or perceived indiscretions.
Speaker A:Now the grand old dame was a decaying monument to forgotten splendor.
Speaker A:From a distance, it was still an imposing figure that dominated the countryside, but up close she was showing her age.
Speaker A:The grounds, modeled after an English country estate and once the most sought after location for the outdoor events of society's wealthiest, had become overgrown and weed choked.
Speaker A:Stone and brick walls were crumbling, paint peeled, and in places the roof sagged alarmingly.
Speaker A:The interior was in no better condition.
Speaker A:Dust clung to velvet drapes and the air carried the sour tang of mildew.
Speaker A:The grand staircase groaned alarmingly under even the lightest tread, and the imported marble floors were chipped and yellowed from neglect.
Speaker A:But the new owner had plans and the money to return the Eldridge to the splendor of its glory days.
Speaker A:She had purchased the property a few months ago and sent in an army of engineers and architects to begin the laborious restoration process.
Speaker A:But before any physical work commenced, the whispers started.
Speaker A:A structural engineer mentioned that whenever he was on the third floor, his flashlight would dim, then flicker for a time before going out.
Speaker A:As soon as he moved on to a different floor, it would begin working again.
Speaker A:An architect claimed he'd heard a woman sobbing on the third floor, but after searching had been unable to find her.
Speaker A:The reports began coming more frequently.
Speaker A:Some claimed they felt an icy touch, like a dead hand resting on their arm.
Speaker A:Others talked about the sensation of unseen eyes watching their every Move.
Speaker A:Then a worker took a tumble down the grand staircase, ending up in the hospital with a broken leg and a cracked collarbone.
Speaker A:He claimed he had been pushed, even though he had been alone.
Speaker A:Tools began disappearing, but only on the third floor.
Speaker A:Then a worker vanished.
Speaker A:Others swore they saw him enter room 313.
Speaker A:As far as could be determined, that was the last time he had been seen.
Speaker A:The police were called in.
Speaker A:The hotel was searched, then swept with a pair of canines.
Speaker A:The dogs reacted to something on the third floor, then huddled against their handler's legs and wouldn't leave their sides.
Speaker A:They didn't find the missing man, and the other workers refused to return until the disappearance was solved.
Speaker A:Enter James Harrow, a retired detective from the NYPD who had solved more cases than any other detective in the department's storied history.
Speaker A:Harrow walked with a limp from a bullet his doctors had decided was too risky to remove.
Speaker A:When he got the call from the hotel's owner, he had jumped at the opportunity to debunk the ghost stories being told about the Eldridge.
Speaker A:That, and retirement hadn't been what he had expected.
Speaker A:Divorced with no children, his days were now a long string of empty restlessness.
Speaker A:Harrow caught the first flight out of New York.
Speaker A:He began by touring the entire hotel.
Speaker A:As he walked the property, he held a small digital recorder into which he dictated everything he observed.
Speaker A:Next, he interviewed the men who had last seen the missing man.
Speaker A:Then the entire workforce.
Speaker A:It was late evening when he finished the interviews and he drove into town for dinner and checked into a small local motel.
Speaker A:But his mind wouldn't let him rest.
Speaker A:Getting out of bed, he dressed quickly, slipped a pistol into a holster beneath his jacket, and drove back to the Eldridge.
Speaker A:He parked near the entrance, tested a newly purchased flashlight, and entered the hotel.
Speaker A:It was nearing midnight and he allowed himself a wry smile at the thought.
Speaker A:The building was silent as a tomb.
Speaker A:The massive high ceiling lobby was full of light and shadows from dozens of high intensity work lights powered by a generator.
Speaker A:The floor was a maze of extension cords that seemed to writhe like serpents as he walked.
Speaker A:He climbed the grand staircase, his bullet wound on fire by the time he reached the third floor.
Speaker A:Pausing to rub his leg, he froze at an unexpected sound.
Speaker A:Security was posted outside and he had been assured he would be alone.
Speaker A:Yet he had just heard what sounded like a woman crying.
Speaker A:He made his way forward and pausing at room 313.
Speaker A:When he thought he heard something within the room, he clicked on his flashlight and pushed the door open.
Speaker A:Remaining outside, he took his time surveying the Room's interior the room was a time capsule of neglect.
Speaker A:Peeling wallpaper curled like dead skin.
Speaker A:The bed sagged under its own weight, and a cracked mirror above the dresser reflected shards of moonlight, and the air that flowed across him in the doorway felt unnaturally cold.
Speaker A:Harrow noted this in his recorder, then stepped across the threshold.
Speaker A:A blinding pain lanced through his skull, as if a nail had been driven into his temple.
Speaker A:His vision swam and the room melted away.
Speaker A:A woman in a crimson dress huddled against the far wall, her hazel eyes wide with terror.
Speaker A:A man in a dark wool coat, a knife gleaming in his hand, loomed over her, and she sobbed in fear.
Speaker A:The same cry he had heard.
Speaker A:Harrow grabbed for his weapon, shouting for the man to stop, but he slashed the woman's throat open in a spray of blood.
Speaker A:Her body crumpled to the floor, her gaze locking onto Harrow's with a silent plea.
Speaker A:Harrow fired, emptying his pistol into the killer to no effect.
Speaker A:The killer turned to face him, but his face was a shadowed blur.
Speaker A:The vision snapped shut, leaving Harrow gasping.
Speaker A:The woman and killer were gone.
Speaker A:There was no spray of blood on the wall, only a series of bullet holes from the smoking gun in his hand.
Speaker A:Harrow wasn't easily frightened.
Speaker A:In his career, he had faced down Mafia hitmen, violent gangbangers, drug dealers, even a serial killer.
Speaker A:But as he stood there, trying to reconcile what he'd experienced, his hands trembled.
Speaker A:Moving carefully, he walked the room, but could find no evidence the murder he had just witnessed had happened.
Speaker A:With a sudden realization, he rewound his recorder two minutes and listened carefully to his own footsteps, to his voice, noting the unusually cold air in the room.
Speaker A:Then, faintly, the sound of the woman's sob.
Speaker A:An instant before his shout of alarm and the shots he had fired at the killer, he rewound the device over and over, listening to the woman's cry, relieved he wasn't losing his mind.
Speaker A:But what the hell had just happened?
Speaker A:He went through the room again, searched for anything that could have tricked him.
Speaker A:A projector of some sort, perhaps.
Speaker A:But he found nothing that could explain the event.
Speaker A:Eventually, he chalked it up as exhaustion, the hotel's eerie atmosphere playing tricks on a mind too long idle, even if that felt like a sellout explanation.
Speaker A:But no matter how he tried to rationalize what he'd experienced, the woman's face was etched into his mind.
Speaker A:Her delicate cheekbones, her lips parted in fear, her hazel eyes pleading with him to save her, had stirred a longing within.
Speaker A:Still trying to shake off what had happened, he went back to his motel.
Speaker A:But it was a mostly sleepless Night as the woman's face kept invading his dreams.
Speaker A:The next night, he returned to room 313, two hours earlier than the previous.
Speaker A:He wanted to be prepared this time.
Speaker A:And in addition to the digital recorder, he set up a phone on a tripod with a camera lens aimed at the spot he had seen the woman die.
Speaker A:Time crept by, and standing in one spot for too long was inflaming his injury.
Speaker A:After an hour of nothing, he lowered himself to a seat on the edge of the sagging mattress.
Speaker A:As midnight approached, he.
Speaker A:He found himself experiencing some anxiety.
Speaker A:He had been picturing the woman's face all day and was apprehensive about seeing her again, even though when he thought about it, that seemed the height of foolishness.
Speaker A:Tonight, at the stroke of midnight, the pain struck.
Speaker A:Only this time it was even harder and the vision was sharper.
Speaker A:Her crimson dress was torn at the hem.
Speaker A:A silver bracelet glinted on her wrist.
Speaker A:And when the killer slashed her throat, he swore he could smell the coppery blood pooling beneath her.
Speaker A:Harrow's chest tightened as she died, this phantom woman, her vulnerability igniting a need to protect her that defied reason.
Speaker A:He named her Maureen, the word forming unbidden in his mind as if she had whispered it herself.
Speaker A:He checked the phone, but neither the woman nor the killer had been captured on video.
Speaker A:Harold began to doubt himself, to pose alternative explanations for his visions.
Speaker A:But nothing explained the audio he had recorded the previous night that had captured her sob as she was murdered.
Speaker A:Days bled into sleepless nights, each Visit to room 313 pulling Harrow deeper into the vision's grip.
Speaker A:Details crystallized her jasmine perfume, the killer's scarred hand gripping the knife.
Speaker A:The faint creak of his boots.
Speaker A:And Maureen's eyes haunted him, her fear driving him to act.
Speaker A:He scoured the hotel's records, guest books, repair logs, staff rosters, but found no trace of a murder.
Speaker A:His search expanded to Willow Creek's police station, where he sifted through dusty case files in a basement reeking of mold.
Speaker A:The files detailed petty crimes, bar fights and thefts for the most part, but no murders at the town library.
Speaker A:He hunched over microfilm readers, eyes burning as he scanned newspaper archives.
Speaker A: A: Speaker A:The Eldridge's grand opening gala, where a singer named Maureen Everett performed, only to vanish that night.
Speaker A:Her fate of mystery.
Speaker A:Maureen was real and in danger.
Speaker A:Harrow's obsession consumed him.
Speaker A:He now thought of Maureen as his responsibility, though he couldn't explain it.
Speaker A:He had fallen in love with her, her peril a call he couldn't ignore.
Speaker A:He cross referenced police files with newspaper clippings, building a fragile web of clues.
Speaker A:Maureen Everett, 27, a rising star with a voice like an angel, had drawn crowds to the gala.
Speaker A:The archives pointed to Victor Kahn, a local thug with a scar across his hand, known for theft, extortion and worse.
Speaker A:No evidence tied him to Maureen, but Harrow's instincts screamed he was the killer.
Speaker A: row pored over every scrap of: Speaker A:Police reports sketched Kahn's violent history.
Speaker A:Newspaper photos showed his scarred hand and his cold eyes, matching the vision's malice.
Speaker A:Harrow mapped Khan's movements, learning his patterns.
Speaker A:He had frequented the Eldritch, preying on wealthy guests.
Speaker A:Meereen's performance at the gala was a magnet for men like Khan, who were obsessive, dangerously obsessive.
Speaker A:Hera's knights in room 313 became rituals, each vision refining the scene.
Speaker A:Maureen's bracelet catching the light, Kahn's oil stained coat, the knife's serrated edge.
Speaker A:He stopped sleeping, his limp worsening as he moved between the library, the police station and the hotel, his satchel stuffed with notes.
Speaker A:On the 11th night, Harrow entered room 313.
Speaker A:He sat waiting for the pain, and it hit him like a runaway freight train.
Speaker A:He gasped and held his head as fire burned through his skull.
Speaker A:Then the air shimmered and the room transformed.
Speaker A:The wallpaper was vibrant, gas lamps cast a warm glow, and the bed was pristine.
Speaker A: It was: Speaker A:Music swelled from the ballroom below and Maureen stood in front of a mirror, putting the finishing touches on her makeup.
Speaker A:She was radiant in the crimson dress and her hazel eyes sparkled with life.
Speaker A:Harrow's heart swelled at the sight of her, then realized he'd been pulled back to save her, not to witness her death all over again.
Speaker A:Maureen finished preparing, struck a final pose in the mirror, and left the room.
Speaker A:Harrow limped after her as fast as he could.
Speaker A:The gala was in full swing, laughter and the sounds of clinking glasses filling the air.
Speaker A:Maureen passed through a curtain behind the stage and Harrow slipped into the crowd, his modern coat out of place among tuxedos and gowns.
Speaker A:Then Marine's voice rose, a haunting melody that silenced the room.
Speaker A:Her beauty was magnetic, her eyes seeming to find his.
Speaker A:For a fleeting moment, he scanned for Khan, spotting him near the bar.
Speaker A:Harrow watched Khan checking his coat during a distraction and finding a serrated knife hidden in a pocket.
Speaker A:The blade matched what he had watched Khan use to kill Maureen over and over.
Speaker A:As the night waned, Marine wrapped up her performance with a song that left the audience stunned and returned to room 313 alone.
Speaker A:Her steps were heavy with exhaustion.
Speaker A:Harrow's mind whirled with every detail of his visions.
Speaker A:He was waiting when Kahn climbed the grand staircase to the third floor.
Speaker A:His heart was pounding as he stepped into Khan's path.
Speaker A:Khan sneered, his hand reaching for the knife, but Harrow moved first.
Speaker A:He tackled Khan and they fought over the knife.
Speaker A:Harrow was strong and experienced, but Khan was stronger and faster.
Speaker A:He was able to draw the blade, which he plunged to the hilt in Harrow's chest.
Speaker A:Kahn leapt to his feet and ran.
Speaker A:Harrow lay bleeding on the third floor's carpet.
Speaker A:Maureen, drawn by the commotion, emerged from her room.
Speaker A:When she saw Harrow, she screamed for help and sank to the floor at his side.
Speaker A:Kahn didn't make it out of the hotel.
Speaker A:The staff, drawn by Marine's screams, caught and subdued him, holding him until the police arrived.
Speaker A:Maureen stayed with Harrow, holding his hand as he gasped for air.
Speaker A:Recognition flared in her eyes, and a spark of something deeper flickered between them.
Speaker A:The renovation of the Eldridge was completed significantly over budget and beyond schedule, but the new owner didn't care.
Speaker A:When work was done, the hotel was restored to breathtaking grandeur.
Speaker A:Its spires soared, its stained glass windows cast shimmering rainbows across polished marble floors, and guests streamed through its doors, oblivious to the dark past that Harrow had changed.
Speaker A:On the day of the hotel's grand reopening, the new owner stood in the lobby gazing at an outsized oil painting that hung over the grand staircase.
Speaker A:It depicted a man with a weathered face, his arm around a woman in a crimson dress with hazel eyes and a radiant smile.
Speaker A:Her name is Maureen Harrow, James and Maureen's great granddaughter.
Speaker A:New episodes of When Reality Phrase are uploaded every Monday and Thursday.
Speaker A:If you're enjoying the journey into the strange, the mysterious, and the unexplained, be sure to press that Follow or Subscribe button and turn on all reminders so you're alerted whenever an episode drops.
Speaker A:Until next time, thank you for listening to When Reality Frays.
