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Amethyst Lavenlight
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12-21-2010, 10:40 PM
((You should bring in a video camera or voice recorder to see if you can document the spirit. :yes: Maybe catch an apparition on film or a spirit voice.))
Spirit application
Name: Esther Whitaker
Picture: 
Floor you haunt: I go wherever I please, whippersnapper.
Why you died at hotel?: Who says I'm dead?
Age: Somewhere around late 60s to early 70s. Once you reach a certain age, you lose track.
Why do you stay at the hotel and not cross over?: I refuse to leave until I can figure out what happened to the Retirement Garden.
Evil or nice spirit?: Neutral. I'm not fond of these youngsters taking over what once was a home for us wise elders.
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Esther sat gloomily in a chair and stared at the fitness room's equipment, a look of evident disgust visible on her features. She hated this place. She hated all the modern technology and furniture that had replaced her once cozy, old-fashioned nursing home. There wasn't a single doily to be found, there were no rocking chairs, and there was just too much hustle and bustle with all the people coming in and out. Worst of all, Esther's friends weren't anywhere to be seen.
"Curse this confounded place," the woman whispered under her breath. She wrinkled her nose and gazed at the ceiling. "Bonnie...Clause...Where have you gone? Why am I in this horrible hell alone? Where is our Retirement Garden?" She held her breath for a moment, expecting a reply, but as the seconds passed she knew she would never receive one.
The old woman stood up from the chair and winced, placing a hand on her arched back. Her spine released a few cracks before the look of pain receded. "And curse this godforsaken chair!" she hissed, wagging her finger at the inanimate object. Esther then shuffled over to one of the treadmills and looked at it with furrowed brows. "This must be the devil's work," she muttered, leering at the buttons and switches on its control board. With a wrinkled hand, the woman pushed a button and the treadmill instantly roared to life. "How do you even use this thing?...."
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Aisha paused in front of a glass door labeled "Four Points Fitness Lounge." Beyond the glass, she could see all the different types of equipment, all of them currently unoccupied. She swiped her key in the card lock and entered the room. "Wow, there's so much here...," she said in awe.
Aisha wasn't the most athletic girl in the world, but since her body became stricken with illness she decided to live a healthier life. She always made an effort to eat healthier foods and toning her body would give her an advantage in her fight over the sickness. While her eyes wandered the room, she thanked Mr. Evans over and over in her mind.
As the blonde began looking over the different weights, however, her gratitude ceased--as did all her other thoughts. Her mind went completely silent and her heart began pumping furiously in her chest. The room was cold, all of a sudden. Very, very cold.
Her hands clutched at her arms and shivers embraced her body. Did someone turn up the A/C or something? she wondered, making her way to the nearest thermostat. Before she reached it, however, an abrupt noise stopped her in her tracks. A loud whirring sound echoed throughout the room and Aisha turned her head towards the source. She saw a single treadmill in action, but there was no one running on its belt; in fact, there was no one else in the room besides Aisha.
The girl chuckled, attempting to ease her terror, and she calmly turned the machine off. She left the fitness room and headed towards the elevator. It was probably just a technical malfunction, she assured herself. If she came across a hotel attendent, she'd be sure to let them know of the problem.
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