Hotel Samhain - Christina Hennemann

The journey
My getaway begins here, in Niemandsland,
after an endless journey through the dense pine woods
of frosty October nights; coated in smoky coal
I arrive at a remote castle, once protective
of clans, knights, warrior kings and queens;
now standing mossy, moist, melancholic.

The lobby
Through squeaking metal doors I walk
into a dusty, run-down smell of rotten.
The paint is chipping off the walls,
the chandeliers are tarnished, lightly swinging.
The suited receptionist bows terribly politely.

The restroom
I drop my mask and gaze
at the merciless flickering neon light,
spot hundreds of tiny flies lying dead,
captured in the dull glass of the lamp.
I turn to look at my teethy smile in
the misty warped mirror, almost blind.
Red lipstick kisses my canine tooth
as I sway from the bizarre quiet,
haunted only by the sizzling of the flies.

The salon
I step out onto the red velvet carpet
and sit down in a black giant armchair,
observe crumbles on the carpet, the mouldy walls.
With awkward grace, I sip my pumpkin spiced latte,
which grins at me horribly gleefully, and fogs
my tongue with cinnamon, foams my muted mouth.
The glass is bloodstained with my lipstick,
as I look around with caution, I find
the pallid waitress eying me suspiciously.

The castle suite
I enter the once lavish bedroom.
A spider is crawling over the bedsheets,
its frail legs I tear apart in horror,
I must perform the exorcism —
before I lie in the smell of chlorine and decay.
I fall asleep with my eyes open, fascinated
by the shadow twigs dancing over the dusty curtains.

The restroom, 3am
I twitch and dream of dead flies, a warped mirror.
I rise and sleepwalk the empty corridors,
until again I stand before the neon-lit looking glass.
I stare at my face and run
from the smiling grimace in horror, but there’s —

no escape from the ghosts inside me.

Originally published by orangepeel magazine 2021

Christina Hennemann is a poet and prose writer based in Ireland. Her poetry pamphlet “Illuminations at Nightfall” was published by Sunday Mornings at the River in 2022. She’s a recipient of the Irish Arts Council’s Agility Award ’23 and the winner of the Luain Press Prize. She was shortlisted in the Anthology Poetry Award & Dark Winter Contest, and longlisted in the National Poetry Competition. Her work is forthcoming or appears in Poetry Wales, The Iowa Review, Skylight 47, The Moth, York Literary Review, fifth wheel, Ink Sweat & Tears, Moria, National Poetry Month Canada, and elsewhere. www.christinahennemann.com