Penter Painter's Holiday Haunts: Seville by the Sea (Christmas Special)

A sour young man is forced to return to his hometown and encounters something strange while Christmas decorating an elderly care home.

This is a short story entry to a writing/world-building prompt given by

Cole Noble

. I had a lot of fun trying something new! Hopefully, I managed to remain within the parameters set. Enjoy this special Christmas short story!

-M.E. Beckley

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David clung to the rails of a ladder while trying to unravel a large rope of Christmas lights. He was in an awful mood. ‘What am I doing here?’ wheeled through his mind about a hundred times just in the last hour.

Of course, David knew how he’d ended up at the top of this ladder, six stories above the ground. It was his doing. Tail between his legs, he’d slunk back to his parents’ house a month ago. The city was too much for him. His pockets were scarred by university loans and the cost of living. Now he was twenty-eight years old and living in his parents’ basement without a car or even a girlfriend. It stung. Everywhere David went he felt as though he had LOSER stamped to his forehead for all in Arnold’s Landing to see.

Well, at least he could pay rent.

David sourly untangled another knot in the Christmas lights. Seville by the Sea, more like Senile by the Sea, he thought.

He was tasked with decorating an old folks’ home pro bono instead of racking in cash tips promised by the wealthier clientele. Everyone else enjoyed tasteful and toasty living rooms ripped straight out of Better Homes & Gardens. The group chat was blowing up with pictures of egg nog and bagels set out by one of their regulars.

He shouldn’t complain.

Chuck Penter hired David as a favor to his father, a childhood friend. Although this job didn’t cut him a massive paycheck, it was a hell of a lot more than he was making back in New York as a burgeoning architect. But now David was labeled an intern. It was almost too much to bear.

This was how he found himself balancing on the sleet-slick rooftop of the Seville by the Sea Care Home.

He looked over the spires of the Victorian-style building toward the steep drop and the grey expanse of the Atlantic.

Who the hell puts a care home on sea cliffs? he wondered. That has to be a legal nightmare just waiting to happen. 

It used to be a private mansion of the Seville family, now donated by the community’s walking mothballs. Apparently, the patriarch of the family remained inside.

There was a beauty about it, David (begrudgingly) supposed. Yet it was difficult to enjoy the view with the venomous wind. David wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve.

Finally, the lights were detangled. David looked around for an extension cord. Rob was supposed to have already prepped it.

Rob McHenry was also an intern. He was doing this to make money while on Christmas break, however. Their priorities were very different.

“You have to plug it in inside,” called Rob.

David looked to see Rob’s white-blond head poking out from the third-story window.

Rob grinned. “I’d do it myself, but one of the ladies is going to introduce me to her granddaughter.”

Why couldn’t he have been paired with Marco or Chris?

David gritted his teeth. “Okay. Whose room do I go to?”

“Top floor is Mr. Seville’s suite.”

“Right.”

“He’s a little out there, so try not to pay him too much mind.”

“Got it.”

Cautiously, David descended the ladder and entered the building. It was warm and bright. Much of the original furniture of the mansion remained. In David’s expert opinion, it would be very difficult to make the building look ugly. Rob had done a nice job. Someone had even gone through the trouble of playing Bing Crosby’s Christmas album. It almost lifted his spirits.

Almost.

A woman mumbled to herself as she shuffled past. On her feet was a pair of faded carpet slippers. Her cataract-ridden eyes were vacant.

David suppressed the urge to wrinkle his nose. This place was depressing and no amount of fairy lights would change that.

Mary, a manager and resident, peered from around the office door. She was a round woman who often forgot to remove all of the rollers from her grey hair. “Are you already done, sweetheart? We’ve got some cocoa and cookies for you.”

Shame pricked his conscience. David forced a smile. “Not quite, ma’am,” he said, “I’ve got to plug the lights in upstairs.”

“Alright just let me know when you’re done, honey.”

David took the elevator to the top floor. It was slow going. Shame forgotten, once more David’s mood spiralled.

Then the doors slid open.

David paused before stepping out into a grey and white wooden hall. Windows stretched the length of the corridor, filling the space with light. It was quiet save for the sound of the floorboards beneath his weight and the distant crash of the surf. The scent of medicine didn’t reach here. David could only smell the sea.

At the end of the hall was a plain, white wooden door. In its center was a round window made of sea glass. David rapped on the glass.

A white-haired, rosy-cheeked man opened it. In his hand was a cane, styled from what looked like driftwood. He was dressed in a smart tweed suit with a green bowtie. Beneath bushy eyebrows and behind a pair of large spectacles were very bright, very blue eyes. “Well, hello!” he greeted with a pleasant air.

“Good afternoon,” said David. “I’m David Craddock with Penter Painters and Holiday Decorating. Would you mind if I came inside to plug in the outdoor lights?”

The man took a step back from the door and beckoned David inside. “Come in, come in. I can feel the cold coming off of you.”

David carefully wiped his shoes on the mat and entered the apartment.

He didn’t know where to look.

It felt as though he’d fallen into a djinn’s lair. It was much larger than expected, more like a studio than an apartment. The size, however, was not what drew David’s attention. Treasure, trinkets, and a dazzling assortment of items presented themselves—each object more inviting than the last. Bits of silver mirrors, flickering oil lamps, and art hung on the walls and from above. The ceiling steepled high and its oaken beams were mightily tall. Before him hung tapestries depicting hunting scenes with braying hounds and ancient groves. At the far end of the suite was a massive round window facing the ocean. It was bordered by stained glass. Art nouveau-styled creatures of the sea—fish, gulls, monsters, mermaids—circled the center. They in turn were surrounded by a sparkling array of whirlpools and kelp.

Despite all, somehow, it didn’t strike David as overcrowded. The air remained fresh and clear with just the right amount of ocean bite.

Mr. Seville hobbled across the room to his kitchenette, footsteps padded by the afghan rug. “Coffee, Mr. Craddock?” he offered.

“Oh, I’ll just plug the light in and be out of your way.” But David did not want to be on his way. He wanted to explore. Not to mention, he wasn’t exactly in a hurry to climb the ladder or deal with Rob again.

Luckily, Mr. Seville insisted. “Nonsense. Waste some time here. You can plug them in on your way out.”

David swallowed a smile. “Okay, then, I’ll have some coffee.”

“Wonderful!” Mr. Seville set a mokapot on the burner. “These are good beans,” he promised. “All the way from Ecuador. My granddaughter likes to travel and she brings me little gifts. I used to go with her, but now I’m too old. Do you take milk and sugar? Don’t answer that, actually. I shall make you something special. It’s not everyday that I have guests!”

As he spoke, David found himself drawn to the fireplace. Its logs merrily crackled and split. On the mantlepiece, iridescent scales, shark teeth, and taxidermied fish posed. There was a black and white portrait of a beautiful, dark haired woman. The classic vintage glow cast a haze about her angelic features.

Then, something caught the light and David’s eye: a gold coin. The language was weathered and worn but was clear enough to depict what might’ve been an emperor.

Mr. Seville noticed. “Ah, that’s my little aureus,” he said. “You can hold it.”

David turned the coin in his hands. It was surprisingly weighty. “Did your granddaughter bring you this?” he asked.

“No, no. That’s something special.”

Mr. Seville appeared by David’s side. He had a nostalgic gleam in his eye and a rueful smile on his weathered face. “That’s from the moon of my life,” he whispered. He pointed with a wizened finger toward the photograph. “My wife.”

David supposed Mr. Seville was a widower. He replaced the aureus with reverence. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

Mr. Seville looked up sharply. “My woman isn’t dead!”

“Oh.”

With a chuckle, Mr. Seville handed David a mug. “She is a traveller too, my boy,” he explained. He hobbled toward the large window and sat in a large green armchair. With his cane, he gestured for David to join him.

David took a seat opposite. He sipped the coffee. It was thick and sweet. The back of his throat tingled with the slight burn of cayenne and cinnamon.

The old man motioned with his saucer to the sea. “Out there is where she is. I like to sit here and wait.”

Ah, so he was a little off, thought David.

Mr. Seville smiled, eyes gleaming. “You think I’m crazy.”

David flushed bright red. “Oh, no—”

“That’s okay. What matters is that what I say is true.”

David’s gaze turned toward the window and the spyglass that lay upon its sill. Both men lingered in comfortable silence. The chill in David’s limbs slowly ebbed. He took another sip of coffee. Perhaps he’d ask for the recipe on his way out.

Then, David looked at Mr. Seville. He was leaning forward, poised for something.

David was curious. “What do you mean when you say she is out there?” he asked.

“She is of the sea,” said Mr. Seville with a nod. “My Aefre.”

Quiet, David waited. After a moment, Mr. Seville turned from the window and addressed David. “I’ll recite a poem for you. This is the first Aefre ever sang to me.”

Aefre’s Song

Lilting whispers in twilight hush,

Lovers cradled by Neptune’s rush.

Pelagic passion evermore,

in realm of tides where seagulls soar.

A love untold, in salt-kissed air,

man and a water-woman fair.

With every surge, his longing shared,

benthic intensity declared:

“Oh fair lady of salt and foam,

Pray remain, never more to roam.”

Moonlit trysts when the night is still,

the ocean woos with a tidal thrill.

From depths profound to shallow strand,

Wending waves chase sun-studded land.

Carried away by daybreak’s bell,

Ever’y moonset, they bid farewell.

Mr. Seville finished.

The wind moaned and the sea thrashed the cliffs. David did not want to break the silence. Instead, he sat with Mr. Seville a while longer, looking out the window.

Shortly after, David plugged in the lights and returned to the first floor. He felt strange, distracted.

He paused by the office. “I’m on my way out, Mary.”

She cast him a look of concern. “I’d offer you some cookies I promised, but your colleague ate them all! I knew I should’ve made more.”

David shook his head and smiled. “That’s alright. Mr. Seville made me coffee.”

Mary brightened. “Oh, good!” she said. “Poor Mr. Seville needed some company. He spends too much time on his own. Of course, he’s been that way ever since…Well, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

Eyes wide, Mary looked around for eavesdroppers. “Well, I don’t like to gossip… but since you asked,” she began. “His wife passed away many years ago. She didn’t take too well after her baby was born. It happens. One day, she walked right into the sea. Never to be seen again. A lot of people do that sort of thing, but generally there’s someone to bury after the tide brings them back. Not being able to put his wife to rest didn’t help anyone. Poor Mr. Seville was never the same after that.” Mary paused to dab tears in her eyes. “He never remarried, never loved again. It’s quite sad.”

“Oh.” David deflated, gaze flicking toward the elevator. “That is sad.”

“Excuse me,” sniffled Mary. “I always get emotional talking about these sorts of things… I just understand them. You know, losing my Seth was hard. Still feels like yesterday.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” said Mary with a wistful and watery smile. “Every day I get closer to seeing him again. That’s enough, now. It’s getting late. You drive safe, okay? The roads are icy.”

“Yes, ma’am. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

David opened the front door into the chilly, salty air. The corners of his mouth downturned. Pausing on the porch, he stared down at his boots. Why am I so bothered by Mr. Seville? he wondered.

“You coming?” called Rob. He was waiting outside by the van.

David shook himself and joined him on the gravel. Together, they admired the newly lit exterior.

“It’s nice,” said David.

“Yeah!” Rob agreed. “Took you long enough, though.”

“Sorry, I got wrapped up in conversation.”

“Mr. Seville?”

“Yep.”

“That sucks, man.”

“No, it was fine. He’s actually got an interesting little apartment…” David trailed off.

Rob was no longer listening, he’d returned his attention to his phone. “Do you want to drive or should I?” Rob distractedly asked.

“You can drive and just drop me off at the bus in town.”

“Sounds good.”

David got into the car first and waited for Rob to finish texting. He chewed the inside of his cheek. Mr. Seville was very likely a man who struggled with grief and yet David couldn’t shake the echoes of Aefre’s song. It felt real.

Cold air filled the van as Rob threw open the door and entered. “I’m so ready to get home and shower the smell of prunes off of me,” said Rob.

“Huh? What was that?”

“The smell of old people,” clarified Rob. “I can’t stand it.”

David frowned.

Rob caught his eye. “What?”

Shaking his head, David turned away to look back out to the sea. “You’re kind of a jerk, Rob.”

“I’m just saying, jeez.”

David didn’t respond.

The engine turned and the van rumbled to life. As the pair waited in silence for the vehicle to warm up, David looked out the window at the cliffs. Patches of shadow and lights moved in the water. With each wave’s crest, David found himself half-hopeful. He leaned forward in his seat, poised for something.