I spot the inn when I pull off Route 12.
The Cranfield looks pretty old…
But I need somewhere to wait out the storm.
There’s nothing but scarecrows and cornfields for miles.
I run through the rain and ring the bell.
And a plump, white-haired lady pops out onto the porch—
Lisette
I’d like a room, please—
Old Lady
Of course, dear.
Old Lady
The Cranfield is all yours.
Lisette
There are no other patrons?
Old Lady
None for a few months, I’m afraid.
Old Lady
The quiet is too much for a poor old lady sometimes!
So I shake the water off my boots and follow her to the desk.
Lit only by the moon and a few dim, yellow lamps.
Lisette
So how much is your cheapest room, Rose?
Rose
I have some for only $65…
Rose
But there are no televisions or connected bathrooms.
Lisette
I’m okay with that.
She smiles and takes a key from the hooks behind the desk.
Rose
Here you are, Lisette—
Lisette
Thanks, the weather’s pretty bad out there.
Rose
I quite like the summer storms.
Rose
But the sun should be out in the morning.
Waiting for her to take me to my room…
But she pulls me into the parlor instead.
Rose
I was about to have some coffee and cakes.
Rose
Please join me, Lisette!
Rose
I don’t often have the pleasure of entertaining guests.
I’d like to get some sleep…
But she bats her eyelashes at me…
Lisette
Okay, some coffee would be great.
Rose
Please make yourself at home—
Rose
I’ll brew a pot in the kitchen.
And I wander around the parlor, waiting.
The room is all floral fabric and porcelain dolls…
And the antique furniture is cloaked in dust.
I settle myself on the couch…
But the dolls seem to be watching me…
Their eyes wide like moons.
Or perhaps I am too tired.
Soon, Rose prances in with the coffee and cakes.
She pours the cream from a rusted silver pot.
Lisette
You have quite the collection of dolls.
Rose
I’m often alone out here.
Rose
But the dolls keep me company!
She laughs and dumps some sugar into her coffee.
Rose
Clementine and Victoria are the newest…
Rose
And Josephine likes to sit in the rocking chair.
The names strike me as familiar…
Like I’ve heard them somewhere…
Lisette
Did you take their names from a book?
Rose
Each doll came with her own name—
Rose
Same as The Cranfield.
Rose
The Cranfield was a coaching house in 1883.
Rose
There have been many improvements since then, of course…
Rose
But the floors are historic—
Rose
And so is the coal-burning furnace.
I stifle a yawn and sip my coffee.
Rose eats a cake and rambles on.
Finally, Rose takes me to my room to sleep.
Rose
I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me, dear.
And I open the door to my room with my key.
I’m exhausted from the wet, summer heat…
Drained from talking to Rose…
So I lie down in the ratty, moth-eaten bed.
I’m about to sink into sleep…
The coal-burning furnace.
I crawl out of the sheets and sniff the air…
But the room swims around me.
Sweat pours down my cheeks…
And I think I might be sick.
I open my door and stumble into the hall.
I need to find the bathroom.
Some of the doors have room numbers painted on the wood…
I spot a plain, narrow door at the end of the hall…
But instead of the bathroom…
I’ve found a closet full of pretty, porcelain dolls—
And none of them have eyes.
Why does Rose have these?
Suddenly, a crack of thunder rattles the windows.
The lamps in the hall flicker and burn out…
And I am alone in the darkness.
And Rose wanders into the hall with some candles.
Lisette
I was just looking for the bathroom…
The words are like molasses in my mouth.
Rose
The plumbing’s broken in the hall toilet…
Rose
But there’s a washroom off the kitchen.
But I’m too faint to walk.
I slump against the wall and sink to the floor…
She leans in and whispers…
Her breath rotten in my ear.
Rose
Don’t you like it at The Cranfield?
Rose
Don’t you like coffee and cakes with me?
And my eyes widen in horror.
Rose
Poison is for killing…
Rose
And you’ll never die at The Cranfield, Lisette.
Rose
You’ll be my immortal.
Grinning at me with crooked, yellow teeth.
I reach out to push her away from me…
But pain explodes in my chest like a bomb.
And then I sink into the darkness.
I open my eyes and look around in the faint glow of the moon.
Like I’ve shrunken or something.
I need to find my cell phone…
To call the cops about The Cranfield…
But my lips are numb, too.
Then, from the furnace from below the kitchen…
The putrid odor of burning skin and hair.
Soon, Rose huffs into the room with her candle…
Soot-stained and out of breath.
Rose
You should’ve eaten fewer cakes…
Rose
Your earthly remains were heavier than an elephant.
I think of the hall closet…
Of all the dolls without eyes…
Or what should be my stomach—
I know what she did to me…
With some kind of potion in the coffee…
And I will never leave The Cranfield.
She looms over me like a giant…
Stroking my cold, porcelain cheek.
Rose
I will never be alone with all of my sweet dolls.
Rose
And you look so pretty next to Clementine!
Suddenly, I remember where I saw the names from earlier—
Josephine in the rocking chair…
All of them were in the newspaper.
3 women in the last 6 months…
And all of them went missing out on Route 12.
