Tangible Spirits

A narrow, patched blacktop road squiggled up the hill, twisting and turning at odd angles to navigate the steep mountainside. Gera stared at her destination with trepidation. She had seen trails in the woods that looked more promising than this.

The Dove perched precariously on a rocky bit of earth, wedged between the road out front and the mountain behind it. With no room for a walkway, not even a curb, one corner of the columned front porch planted itself mere inches from the pavement.

To its credit, the structure rose straight and tall, with no inclination to lean away from the rocks. Gera counted three stories, all laced with a long porch across the front. The side view revealed yet another level, much of it submerged deep into the mountain.

As dusk gathered thick and murky for the evening to come, floodlights illuminated the hotel. Twinkling party lights gave the somber structure a merry feel and trailed their way to a small garden out back, hinting at hidden pleasures nestled into the rock.

Gera spotted a driveway tucked amid the spindly trees. It opened into a parking area just large enough for a dozen or less vehicles. Parking was no problem; only two other cars were in sight.