It was a cold winter morning in Cape Cod. We made it to the bed and breakfast around 4:30pm, just as it was getting dark and creepy out. I don’t know why winter seems to make the creepy, creepier. But nothing is creepier than Salem around Halloween. All the residents seem to go out of their way to scare the boogers out of you.

When we got to our room, there was a blood red comforter on the bed with white satin sheets below. It seems odd to pick white sheets in a place where they would get constant use by different people. It’s like a disaster waiting to happen. One period away from being thrown out, and they just wasted extra money on satin. Also, satin in the winter? Clearly not interior designers. Oddly enough the towels weren’t white, they too were blood red.

As soon as we set our bags down and freshened up, we took a stroll into town. Cape Cod seems like a strolling town, in stark contrast to our busy neighborhood in Boston. On our walk into the village, I turned to Pete and asked him to remind me again why we picked Cape Cod in early December? The cost, he reiterated. But surely we must have made up the difference with all the extra clothing and pocket warmers we purchased.

The only restaurant open (I use that term restaurant loosely) was a pub that looked like it dated the pre-civil war era. There was an absurdly thin man with slicked back black hair and a towel over his shoulder, standing behind the bar. His gaze looked like it penetrated right through us. After an elongated pause; what’ll ya have, he almost whispered in an a screechy voice. Pete and I just looked at each other and slowly sat on side-by-side bar stools that had God knows what caked on them.

What do you recommend we asked in unison…what do you like, he instantaneously barked back. We’ll both have a PBR please, Pete quietly requested. I think that was the fasted we have ever downed a beer in our 30s. Pete placed a $20 on the bar and we were gone as quickly as we arrived.

When we got back to the Inn, we asked the old woman behind the desk what she recommended seeing in Cape Cod. She mentioned a few old churches and spent a lot of time trying to think of the one cemetery in town. We’ll find it, Pete mentioned as we were walking up the steps. 

Back in our room, I beelined for the shower, trying to wash away the experiences of this evening. Once in the shower with the water running, I heard the bathroom door slam shut, absurdly hard. I pulled back the shower curtain; Pete, I yelled? A few minutes later I got out of the shower (a bit rushed) and toweled off. I opened the door and started walking around the room. Pete? I said again. The tv was on, the blanket turned down, and his glasses and ipad on the bed. I turned around and noticed the window was wide open. In 15 degrees, I thought. In the snow below there was an indentation and foot prints with some trickles of blood.

I quickly put on my clothes and pulled back my wet hair before running downstairs. Passing the old lady behind the desk, I hastily yelled; have you seen the man I was with? Pardon me, honey? The woman said. I backtrack to her desk, the man, have you seen the man I have been with? The old woman had a confused and concerned look on her face; what man? Right before I was about to start WWIII I ran back up to my room to retrieve my cellphone, I don’t have the time to start something with an old lady. 

I made it to my room, out of breath and turned the key to a fully made up, darkened room. No glasses. No ipad. No Pete.