Sunshine Resort

My name is Mylla and today is the worst day of my life. I’ve said that before but I’m really hoping that this time I’m right.

Relentless fear has dogged me for the past days and weeks, and when the answers had finally come, they were the worst imaginable. Grief clenches my chest tight and my legs can’t hold me anymore. Strong arms hold me up, and they are the only things tethering me to this world. It feels like this final blow is just too much to bear.

It’s time, I think. With everything that had happened in the past, I never let it break me. I had never decided to take the easy way out. But now, it’s time.

...

“Welcome to Sunshine Resort. My name is Alysia, and I will be your guide throughout your stay. Let me know any questions or needs you may have.” I was greeted by a tall poised woman with a wide smile. “First on the agenda is a meeting with an arcanist. He will explain the process to you.”

The woman led me into a modern room, all sharp angles and neutral colors. A man was seated behind a large desk of dark wood. He gestured for me to sit in a black leather chair in front of his desk. The women silently exited the room and closed the door.

I perched on the edge of the chair, tapping my fingers against my knees.

“It’s perfectly normal to be nervous,” he said with a charming smile.

I huffed a laugh and settled back into the chair.

“I’ll get right to it,” he began. “You have a memory you wish to forget, and I can make that happen. It’s a simple and painless process. You will sleep here, and when you wake, you will be without the bother of your pervasive memory.”

“So what’s the catch?”

“There is a small trade-off. That’s how all magic works.” He folded his hands atop his desk. “We can’t just make the memory vanish; it has to go somewhere. I will direct the magic to make it flow into your pillow, temporarily. The next person that has contact with the pillow will become a vessel for the memory, so to speak.”

I blinked. “Wait, so someone else will get stuck with my memory?”

“Willingly, of course. It’s the trade-off they agree to make, in exchange for removing their own memory. The same one you must agree to before we can begin.” He watched me with sharp eyes, as I processed what he said.

“But what if the memory I get is even worse than my own?”

“Ah, my dear, no memories are worse than our own.” His tone was lighthearted, but there was a flicker of pain behind his eyes like he understood grief. It made me doubt. If this truly worked, why did he have any pain?

“If it makes you feel any better, you will know the new memory isn’t yours. You won’t have an emotional connection to the new memory. It’s like watching a movie, or maybe more aptly put, having a nightmare.”

What alternative did I have? I couldn’t live with this memory forever. Despite my concerns, I had to move forward.

“I agree.”

...

The plush room was lit only by candlelight. It flickered across the walls and cast the face of the arcanist in an eerie light. By contrast, the bed was soft and welcoming.

“Let me know when you are comfortable, and I will begin. Remember, once I start the enchantment, you must relive the memory that you are trying to forget. I know it will be difficult, but when you are done, you will drift into sleep,” the arcanist whispered.

I took a deep, steadying breath. “I’m ready.”

The arcanist began to chant in a language I didn’t understand. The candles flickered angrily, and a wind blew through my hair. I let it take me back. Bits of the memory was stronger than others, wrenched from my mind by that wind.

A small hand squeezing my own, waking in the night to wheezing breaths, fear taking my own breath, the long beep of a hospital monitor, the endless quiet in a house that was once so full of laughter.

And then blessed darkness.

Feet pounded the pavement, and I followed the sound. When the steps began to slow, I stopped, listening. I could hear heavy breathing. I grinned. My prey was close.

I stalked through the darkness, blood thrumming with excitement. There, to my left.

I sprang, catching the girl by the arm. She tried to pull away, and I chuckled. It was futile.

I flung her to the ground, and she cried out. She scrambled across the alleyway, but I kicked her back down. I was simply toying with her now. By her wide eyes, I could tell she knew it.

I calmly knelt over her and placed my hands around her neck. It was the best way, I had discovered. I could look them right in the eyes and tell the exact moment I took them from this world.

I squeezed tightly. She thrashed and scratched, but I just laughed as blood seeped from the wounds. I enjoyed it more when they fought. I held on, watching for that moment. At last, it came.

I jolted awake, breathing heavily. It wasn’t me. It was just a nightmare. Someone else’s nightmare. Only it had been real.

...

I was determined to find this killer. He didn’t deserve to just go on living without the memory of the evils he had committed. Sunshine Resort was supposed to be a place for good people who had bad things happen to them, or at least that’s how I always imagined it. Now the horrifying reality set in. Sunshine Resort let monsters live free of the burden of their crimes.

But not this time.

I sat on the bed and let my mind go back to that nightmare, trying to recall any details that might be helpful. The murderer was a man, I could tell by the little details that were different from my own body: the length and speed of his stride, the lack of a bouncing chest, and the look of his hands around that poor girl’s throat.

What else?

I couldn’t examine the surroundings of the memory closely; I only had the flickers of scenery as the killer ran by. But he lingered in the alleyway as he savored the kill. What was there? It was nighttime, so none of the signs was lit, but one was there. I remembered it at the corner of the alley before he turned in.

A croissant… and something else. It looked like a french press. It must be a bakery or cafe. I tried to remember the name, but it was useless. All I had was the logo. Well, it would have to do.

I pulled out my phone and googled french bakeries. I scrolled through the photos until I noticed a sign just like the one in the memory. It was about an hour away.

I packed up my things, pausing long enough to run a brush through my hair and change my clothes. I plugged an address into my car’s navigation and started driving. This time, the killer would become the prey.

...

I pulled up outside of an older, but official-looking building. I pulled open the glass doors of the local police station and walked to the front desk. A woman behind a glass partition asked how she could help.

“I’m here to report a crime,” I told her.

“What kind of crime?” she asked, not even looking up.

“A murder.”

She snapped to attention. “Does anyone need immediate assistance? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m…” How did I phrase this? “I’m a witness.”

“Ok, sit right there. I’ll have a Detective right out.” The lady punched a button on her phone and spoke briefly.

A man in a dress shirt and tie walked briskly toward me. He had a warm smile. “Good Morning, I’m Detective Jenkins.” He held out his hand, and I shook it.

“Mylla Henderson.”

“Would you follow me, Ms Henderson?” He swiped his badge at a door and opened it for me. He then led me through a hallway and into a small windowless room with a table and two chairs. He gestured for me to sit. “Go ahead and tell me what’s going on.”

I took a deep breath. “You’ve heard of the Sunshine Resort?”

He nodded.

“I received a memory there. It was of a murder taking place. A girl… she was strangled. Whoever stayed in the room the night before me, is a killer.”

“Why report it here and not in Asbury? Do you live in town?”

“It happened here. Near the Cafe Des Artistes. I saw it in the memory.”

He sat back in his chair and rubbed a hand on his chin. “Did you get a good look at the victim?”

“A very good look, unfortunately.” I looked down at my hands.

The Detective leaned forward. “I’m sorry that you had to witness that. It must have been terrible.”

“It was. I can’t imagine what I wanted to forget so badly. I hope it was worth it.”

He patted my hand before continuing. “We can look through some photos of missing or murdered women. If you are able to identify the victim, we can take a look at the investigation from a new angle.”

“Won’t you be able to get a warrant to find out who stayed at the resort?”

Detective Jenkins sat back and sighed. “I wish it were that easy. Those resorts are protected by HIPAA. It’s considered a form of mental health treatment. We can’t get that information unless the client signs off on it.”

“Oh.” My shoulders sagged. I felt deflated. I thought I would be able to catch this killer.

“We won’t give up that easily. We can still solve this thing with good old-fashioned detective work.” He smiled at me.

“All right, show me those photos.”

...

“Oh my gosh, that’s her.” I was staring at a computer screen as Detective Jenkins clicked through photos until at last, I saw her. “That’s the victim.”

“Great, let’s take a look at that file. You can let me know if anything jogs your memory. Right now we just have the location of the murder, and that the killer is male.”

I nodded.

“It says here the case is still open, unsolved.” He turned to me. “It’s a good thing you came forward.”

I smiled. I was glad something useful could come from whatever trauma I went through.

We scrolled through crime scene photos, which matched the memory I’d received, and interviews with friends and family. At last, something gave us pause.

“Her best friend said she went to the Sunshine Resort shortly before her death,” Detective Jenkins read. He turned to face me, his eyes bright.

“What are the odds that’s a coincidence?”

“In my experience, pretty slim.”

“Do you think he… finds his victims at the resort?” I gulped. I could have easily been a target.

“That’s how it seems. Maybe he tracked them down from their memories like we’re doing now.”

“But that would mean…”

“His next victim stayed at the Sunshine Resort two nights before you.”

...

“One of your clients is in grave danger. We need you to contact them, right now. The person who stayed in room 224 on Friday night.” Detective Jenkins stood at the reception desk holding out his badge.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. It would be a violation of their privacy,” the manager responded.

I shifted on my feet. We didn’t have time to waste. I prayed we weren’t already too late.

“Then you leave me no choice. I will have to go to the news and tell them a killer is targeting guests at this resort, and ask anyone who has stayed here to contact the police. Thank you for your time,” Detective Jenkins snapped out, before turning on his heels.

“Wait!” the manager called out. “I suppose I can call this guest and give them your information. Then they can call if they wish to speak with you.”

A tight smile spread across the detective’s face.

“That would be swell. Thank you.”

He handed the manager his card but didn’t move.

“I’ll, uhh, call right now.”

The manager clicked around on his computer and dialed a number on his phone. He quietly explained the situation to the caller. His face turning red, he handed the phone to the detective. “She would like to speak to you.”

...

“You understand what we’re asking of you?” Detective Jenkins said.

The woman tugged on a lock of hair and nodded. “I’m going to be the bait for a murderer.”

“We’ll have eyes on you the whole time. I’ll get to the killer before anything happens to you.”

The woman turned to me. “Thank you for coming forward. You saved my life. If you could be brave, then I can too.”

I took her hand. “We’re going to help bring a killer to justice.”

“I don’t know what either of us went through in the past, but I think it’s good for us to have a purpose, to make a difference."

I smiled warmly. “I feel the same.”

...

That evening, I sat with Detective Jenkins in his car outside the potential victim’s workplace. She would be leaving any minute now, and we thought the killer was likely to strike before she got home.

“Thanks for letting me tag along. I really wanted to see this through.”

“If it weren’t for your help, we wouldn’t be here. Just make sure you stay in the car when things go down.” He looked me in the eyes. “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

I blushed.

“Of course.”

We held eye contact for a moment before movement snagged our attention. A handful of people walked out of the office building.

“Try to be the last to leave,” the detective said into the mike.

“Roger that,” the woman’s voice answered through the radio.

Detective Jenkins chuckled. “She acts like this is some kind of spy movie.”

“Well, this kind of thing doesn’t happen every day for us regular people,” I replied with a grin.

“Wait, you’re telling me this is your first time catching a killer?” He placed his hand on his chest in mock surprise. “I could have sworn you were a pro.”

I laughed. “Maybe I’ll make it a habit.”

The woman walked out of the building and headed to her car. She lingered, placing her things into her vehicle and leaving the door open when she got in. She fiddled on her phone for a few moments and rummaged through her purse. As she turned to reach for her seatbelt, something moved in the bushes nearby.

“Don’t go yet,” Detective Jenkins said into the radio.

A shadow moved across the pavement, lurking toward her vehicle. My breath caught in my throat. This was really happening. The man crept to the passenger side of the vehicle and opened the back door, sliding inside. In a moment, he lunged forward and grabbed the woman.

She pulled free and scrambled out of the car. The killer exited the other side of the car and stood still for a moment. The lights from the car interior lit up the killer’s face as a grin spread across it. He was enjoying the chase.

Detective Jenkins sprang into action. He got out of the car and drew his gun, pointing it at the murderer. “Don’t move.”

The killer eyed the woman with a look of hunger.

“Get on the ground, now. Hands behind your head.”

The killer’s eyes snapped to Detective Jenkins with a look of pure hatred. I thought for a moment he would run. The Detective must have sensed it too.

“If you run, I will shoot you dead.”

The murderer must have believed him because he surrendered.

After he was cuffed and in the back of the car, Detective Jenkins walked me to my own vehicle.

“If you ever witness another murder, give me a call,” he said as he handed me his card. “Cell’s on the back.” He scuffed the ground with one foot.

Funny how this man could threaten to shoot a murderer with no sense of fear, yet he seemed nervous now. But I felt it too. I didn’t want this to be the end for us.

“How about I call you regardless?” I replied

“I’d like that.”

I stood up on my toes and kissed him on the cheek.

As I sat in my car and watched the police lights fade away, I couldn’t help but think that, whatever had happened in my past, I was meant to be right here.

...

What did you think of the story? Would you give up your worst memory in exchange for someone else’s? Do you think everything happens for a reason? Let us know in the comments.

Thanks so much for reading!

-Clever & WTF