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Hotel? The word seemed so incongruous. After all, what could have been
attraction in this little town that would have warranted a hotel? There didn’t seem to be anything of interest in area, and if any place in world could have been said to be in middle of nowhere, this little town was it!
And how did people get to this village in order to stay in this mysterious hotel? I saw no railroad tracks, and there’s only one road running through town.
The garage implied town was still alive when cars came into general use, but cars have been around a long time, and that still didn’t explain need for a hotel in a town with only two other buildings.
Perhaps that’s why my artist friends find old buildings and farmsteads so intriguing. There’s definitely a sense of mystery about them—stories that will never be known. On that much, we can agree. But no one can convince me those lonely scenes are picturesque.
I can hardly look at old towns like that without being overcome with a sadness that’s difficult to explain. What are stories of those forlorn storefronts? Why did people come to that little town and stay in their little hotel? What about rusty skeleton of a combine on edge of town, its bones bleaching in sun? I don’t know, and I never will—and ghosts don’t talk.
Just don’t try to tell me that such a scene is something I’d want to hang on my wall and look at every day.
© 2004. Gary E. Anderson. All rights reserved.
Gary Anderson is a freelance writer, editor, ghostwriter, and manuscript analyst, living on a small Iowa farm. He’s published more than 500 articles and four books. He’s also ghosted a dozen books, edited more than 30 full-length manuscripts, produced seven newsletters, and has done more than 800 manuscript reviews for various publishers around the nation. If you need writing or editing help, visit Gary’s website at www.abciowa.com.
