Came With the Frame by Aron Beauregard

Author:Aron Beauregard [BEAUREGARD, ARON]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror
ISBN: 9798387825507
Amazon: B0C349JMTC
Goodreads: 136729011
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: 2023-05-05T00:00:00+00:00

HIT THE HEAD

The meal was nothing short of exquisite. As Franco chewed on the final piece of steak on his plate, he grabbed the bottle of wine and refilled his massive glass.

Once Franco finished pouring, the wine level dipped just below the halfway mark. He set the bottle back down on the table and noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Through the transparent glass, Franco caught a glimpse at the backside of the label. A message scribbled in black read ‘FRANCO, GO TO THE RESTROOM.’

“What the fuck?” Franco whispered.

John-Pierre’s voice interjected. “Is everything alright, Mr. Booth? Is there something else I can get for you?”

Franco studied the Frenchman, trying to determine if he was in the know. John-Pierre had given him the bottle. A bottle that he was told was many decades old yet, somehow, coincidentally or otherwise, had a message within that was timely and targeted. Despite the sophisticated atmosphere inside The Anchor, it wasn’t without its quirks. But were the unorthodox elements just part of the charm, or was it something else?

Franco looked away from the message to John-Pierre. “Ah—no, I think I’m all set.”

“Well, I’ve certainly enjoyed serving you this evening.” He nodded before leaving. “Good luck.”

Franco struggled to put the puzzle together. He was looking at a message in a bottle that was as old as him, during his reservation for one—a reservation he was told he had made at an establishment he’d never heard of, hinted at in a picture frame—the contents of which continued to mysteriously evolve.

Maybe I’ve gone mad… he thought.

“Wait, actually,” Franco reconsidered, holding his finger in the air to get the server’s attention, “can you just point me in the direction of the commode?”

John-Pierre turned back to Franco, a slight curl at the corner of his lips. “Of course, sir. It’s just down the hall. It’s the final door. You can’t miss it.”

He gestured down the carpet-lined vestibule.

“Thanks,” Franco replied, watching him disappear into the back of the restaurant.

Franco couldn’t be sure what anyone’s intentions were. He still wondered about the lovely blonde in the frame that had swept him up in the strange mystery. He not only wondered how she fit into the equation, but how the series of odd events were connected. Franco’s attention turned back to the bottle then darted to the hallway.

What are you doing?

As he considered his options, an odd sensation gnawed at him—was it fright or just confusion? But there was no way he could walk out of The Anchor without seeing if the message was merely a coincidence or part of a larger, inexplicably calculated effort.

Franco rose from his seat and made his way down the hall. He walked at an almost reluctant pace—it was as if he never wanted to reach his destination. Franco’s heart thumped mightily inside his chest as he reached the end of the corridor.

There’s nothing in there. Just go in the fucking restroom and confirm you’re not crazy.

When he entered the classy men’s room, the charming symphony remained, entertaining softly in the background.

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