The Welsh Hotel...

The Welsh Hotel

November 3rd 2001

The arrival in St Davids;

 As I stepped off the train in the tiny town of St Davids, wales I had a feel of superiority over the every day hustle and bustle whilst wearing my smooth suit and carrying a fine leather breifcase, containing files regarding the murder of a young girl; Leanne Pritchard. I also wear an ID badge which identifies me as detective inspector Price. I feel as if I belong at the top of almost every hierachy when people stare at my badge. It was interesting gaining the respect. After all, do I not deserve it? Being a police officer, solving crime and now I was here making inquiries about a murdered young lady. The train station was tiny. "St Davids" was written on a large sign in tudor lettering, and the platform was decorated with pot plants. Despite the grey skies, the flowers brightened the place up slightly.

There I met up with my partner, Mr Allen. Mr Allen or Robert was an extremely obscure character at times, however was good at his job. He has a large fear of insects of all types and whistles constantly when he is not talking. He his quite short as opposed to my more lanky structure. He is also quite rotuned, again, the complete opposite to me. In fact we are very different in every way  yet we still work together and get on together fantasticly.

Mr Allen informed me immediately of the Hotel we were staying at and told me that he had booked two seperate rooms; one each naturally. He had room number four and I had room number five. My first intention when I arrived was to relieve myself of my luggage however, Mr Allen was of course insisted that he showed me the village pub restaurant; The Swan. I was a little thankful for this suggestion as I was considerably hungry. The people in the pub were friendly and they were pleased to welcome me (Mr Allen as it seemed must have already befriended them).

The streets are clean and pretty, with cottages with small front gardens staring at the roads. The Hotel is certainly beautiful from the outside. On entance to the hotel, it appeared we are the only residents here for the time being. This is not suprising as it is currently winter and not holiday season. The hotel has a warm feel to it; a roaring fire, a large couch with huge cushions and mahogony furniture which creates a homely environment. I wish that I could get my fireplace going like that at home. This is a log fire. Mine is gas.

Mrs Nelson, the hotel owner, a widow seems friendly and the hotel had been in her ex husband's family for over seventy years she told us. She also told us that it is getiing more and more unpopular and that she feels lonely without her husband, who had hanged himself about twelve years ago. I noticed that Mrs Nelson did not show any sadness in telling us this story. She appeared to be able to discuss it as if we were talking about the weather. The weather now does not need to be spoken about at the moment. It is perfectly clear. The thunder and rain and the darkening skies. Mrs Nelson Made me and Mr Allen Sunday Roast with her homemade apple pie dessert. I must leave now as I have work to do.

november 5th 2001

I have not yet made any further developments in the Pritchard case. I have been feeling unwell. Mr Allen is also feeling under the weather. However when I say I am not feeling very well, I have a very good reason to do so.

It started yesterday evening. I am a police officer, I have seen dead bodies and handled criminals, however yesterday something eerie and odd happened to me. When i was leaving the bathroom and walking down the corridor to my room when a lady passed me in old fashoined clothing, thinking about it, they style was probably 1930's styled. I then that night began to feel very dizzy and i was sick twice. This morning, feeling a little better i decided to ask Mrs Nelson about the lady, assuming she was a guest and Mrs Nelson told me that there was no other guestsand reminded us that hardly anyone came at this time of year and that me and Mr Allen should stop drinking as it was bad for us.

I am going to go to sleep now as I am tired and yet again feeling  rather poorly.

November 6th 2001

I have jut  just woken the strangest of occurances. I am shaking. Looking at my clock it is quarter past one and I have just had what one would call a rude awakening. I am sure I heard choking and gasping noises from the floor beside my bed. However on switching my bedside lamp on, the noises ceased immediately. Was I still dreaming when I woke? I do not know what has happened. I am feeling very ill. Even after this incident, I am too tired to stay awake all night.

Again, I have just woken. This time I heard just choking noises. It is now twenty five past three in the morning and I am beginning to worry a little bit. I am not a superstitious man, however I cannot think of a logical explanation for this. I need sleep, amd again when i switched my lamp on, the noises vanished into nowhere. I have decided I shall sleep with the light on.

I slept soundly last night despite the strange happenings. I am now going to see Mrs Nelson about what happened and see if she knows anything.

It is now five O clock in the afternoon and after a interesting talk with Mrs Nelson, I have gathered information together. Her ex Husband raped and strangled a woman in that room and afterwards hanged himself as he was going crazy. She said her husband freuently was tired and dizzy and sick.

This is the last thing Inspector Price writes and one day later, he is found hanging in his wardrobe.

The End

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