I was wondering if this lodge was still around! :) it was the first ski lodge I ever read. It made me fall in love with ski lodges

*spooky ghost noises*

hello, dear readers! ‘tis i, pangolin! 

i’m so sorry i haven’t updated this ski lodge in, like, over half a year... yikes :0

thank you all so so much for all your kind comments (both on this ski lodge, and on my leaving post <3333). i’ve finally gotten around to (mostly) finishing up planning the rest of this ski lodge, and writing the next part! hopefully the wait for the next part won’t be quite so long :] 

also, i’m sorry, but it’s been a while since you all signed up, so that info might not be entirely up to date — if there are ever any changes to pronouns, or anything else, please let me know :D 

anyway, without further ado, i present: 

Day 10, Part 1

Firelily trudged about the grounds, a frosty wind whipping her hair and snapping at her burgundy scarf. Her hair had grown out a bit since she’d gotten here; the red dye had faded, and the blonde roots were much more visible now. It really did seem like forever since she’d first arrived at Lockaria House.

Even the forest surrounding Lockaria House seemed a washed-out version of its former glory. The last of the golden and crimson leaves had fallen, and the trees and ground were a nondescript brown. The spidery tree branches ran cracks across the gray sky, and the world smelled like dying plant matter.

Firelily shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of her long coat as the wind picked up, and she hurried over to the garden shed for shelter. Of course, she could turn back and return to Lockaria House, but after last night, when they failed to save Echo, everyone’s spirits were so low, and she couldn’t bear another second of being surrounded by all that negativity. Usually, she took it upon herself to lift everyone’s spirits—cracking a joke, inventing a game, bringing a little bit of color to counter the bleak grayness—but at a certain point, she was in danger of breaking down, too. One more second in that house and she feared she’d be doomed to that misery as well. So she’d much rather be out here, even if the wind turned her cheeks pink and raw.

The garden shed, too, was a drab brown, bordering on gray. It was almost crudely constructed, with slats of wood held together by nails now tarnished with rust. Splotches of white and green lichen crept up its sides, and the shingled roof was spotted with patches of fuzzy green moss. She pulled at the handle, which had also become rusted, and the door came creaking open. She dipped her head under the slightly-too-low door frame as she entered the shed, her boots thudding on the warped floorboards. There was no light switch inside, but if she left the door open, enough light filtered in to clearly illuminate the shed. 

She hadn’t really expected anything particularly impressive: the shed was large enough, smelled of mulch and must and old wood, and had a normal enough selection of gardening tools—hedge shears, a rake, a shovel, a wheelbarrow pushed into the corner, gardening gloves hanging on the wall. Though, of course, given recent events, all those sharp blades and heavy tools made it look more like a murderer’s arsenal. She shuddered, and was about to exit the shed, but a lumpy tarp on the other end of the shed caught her eye. She crossed over to it, and lifted up a corner—

~~~

Hex and Ronin sat in the arts and crafts room at a wooden table with a clear vinyl covering. Ronin was twisting a length of steel wire into some sort of three-dimensional stick figure, while Hex was painting a clay cactus she’d fired in the kiln the day before. After she’d given it normal cactus colors, she impulsively painted a face on it, complete with a moustache and monocle. She had no regrets.

“Guys!” Firelily burst into the room, and Hex looked up, afraid there’d been another death, but Firelily’s face was glowing. “Guys, I found some bikes in the garden shed! There’s enough for all of us! Wanna go for a ride?”

“Ew, exercise,” said Ronin. 

“I’ve already asked Writing, Reuby, and Silver, and they’re all in. C’mon, it’ll be fun!” 

Hex shrugged. “I mean, I’ve gotta wait for this paint to dry before I can put on the varnish anyway. Might as well get out of the house.” 

“Fiiiiine,” grumbled Ronin. “But only because I don’t want to be stuck in the house with Socie. She’s kind of creepy.”

“Don’t be mean, Ronin,” Firelily replied, and then turned around and practically skipped down the hallway. 

~~~

Socie Grishelm sat at her mahogany clawfoot desk, wearing a cardigan the color of toast over a pale yellow dress. Her hair was pulled back in a hastily-assembled braid with a myriad of auburn flyaways haloing around her head in the light from the ceiling fixture. She stared off into space, her mind somewhere else, or maybe nowhere at all. 

Wraith sat curled in an armchair before the fireplace, though it contained nothing but limp gray ashes. The steady ticking of the grandfather clock was deafening, challenged by only the occasional scraping of trees against the windowpane and banging of the heating pipes in the walls.

Then, all of a sudden, everything else went silent as an unearthly voice reverberated through the very air. It sounded like charcoal and wet leaves and television static, and it was very, very wrong. A chill went down Socie’s spine as Wraith’s mouth opened, forming the words, though they seemed to come not only from him but from all around her, suffocating her, embedding themselves in her very soul. 

“Hello, Hedera. It’s been a while.” 

~~~

Alive: 6 (Silver Crystal, Firelily, Writing, Ronin, Reuby, Hex)

Dead: 9 (Pangolin, Oliver, Daisy, Eclipse, Kyanite, Artemis, Sterling, Echo)