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• Where can I find and read the first chapter excerpt of RISING?

  Author: Bernie Unrau
  Author Website: www.caltexpress.com
  ISBN: 9780978455279
  Publisher: CaltexPress
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  Chapter One

  PROLOGUE

  In a pristine picturesque setting at the end of the road in a remote region of a dense deciduous forest lies a hotel. The Prominence O’ Way, a gracefully aging rustic structure, sits atop a desolate mesa dating back to former royalty. The POW has opened it’s doors to a variety of distinguished guests….yet, the idyllic inspirational setting is not without it’s share of tragedies….4 ghosts are rumored to reside within it’s hallowed halls … two of which were former staff, driven to suicide by sinister forces…..an anonymous guest, the ghost of ‘Honest Abe’(aka Abraham Lincoln) peacefully puffing on a carved peace pipe. The intoxicating aroma lingering in the lofty lobby greets you…the bottles rattling from the back of the bar, with it’s commanding, breathtaking view of the lake lost in the distance. The 4th ghost, the wife of the former chef who vanished mysteriously decades ago….., the victim of foul play, or some thing much more sinister? Possessed by an evil ever recurring spirit? Intent on wreaking havoc upon all who enter the hotel’s hallowed halls? The town of Wutherington, meaning loud blowing wind, is nestled in it’s unique nook and cranny alongside Enchanted Bay. The sleepy resort slips into gentle slumber and hibernation for most of the year intent on passing away peacefully far removed from the rat race of the rest of the world. What an idyllic inspirational spot for an upcoming wordsmith, a dedicated dentist turned novelist and aspiring screenwriter to pass away the winter months accompanied only by his trusty typewriter and enchanting young bride. The couple are about to experience a shocking surprise and abrupt end to their picture perfect private honeymoon in the majestic albeit mysterious recesses of the hotel. A horrific unexplained haunting nightmare the likes of which they could have never imagined.

  1: Rise

  “Though my soul may set in darkness, It will rise in perfect light, I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night."

  - Sarah Williams

  One is overcome by the solitary lone sentinel towering high above the surrounding pristine panorama. A harbinger of hope, a beacon of light, amongst a deep dark green carpet of deciduous forest….like a misplaced lighthouse guiding many a weary wanderer to it’s gates. The rustic aging rickety structure rises prominently above the point as if beckoning those who dare to enter the enchanting, effervescent town of Wutherington from the Old Yorkshire English meaning loud blowing winds; nestled in it’s own nook and cranny, it’s little niche, lost in time….just below the guardian of the gates, the POW Prominence O’Way . Upon passing into the narrow gulley to the town’s oldest structure, the Killroy Lodge snuggled up against Enchanted Bay…the POW is ever present in the corner of your eye….as if watching, waiting ….for it’s next unsuspecting guest to arrive.

  Dr Gum knew the isolated area well…the International Peace Park at land’s end so to speak, the end of the road…the ‘last stop’…set in the serene rugged wilderness…a place to get away from it all…to reenergize, recuperate and restore a sense of sanity in this sordid hell bent for leather pace we are all accustomed to….or so he thought.

  His young new wife, Roxy, was eager to accompany him, aroused by the lure, like a clandestine romantic tryst in the dense north American …To truly become one with nature and explore each other …afresh, to renew the sacred marriage vows and delve deeply into the inner self, the unexplored soul. For he was granted special privileges bestowed only upon a select few, including the former royalty, who had the foresight to envision an enchanting villa at the edge of the known universe…at the time. The harsh weather and unpredictable sudden storms kept the tourist season to a minimum of two, at best four months. At the culmination of a busy season, the structures were slapped with signs, boarded up and the sleepy town of Wutherington once again sank into a deep slumber …satisfied to settle into a long winter’s nap and dormancy….awaiting the spring thaw runoff to refresh the depleted stores… the rise of the first spring bud sprouting from the cold rocky ground…..The dedicated dentist turned novelist and screenwriter’s reservations granted an entire ‘off season’ in which to languish and lap up the luxurious albeit dated accommodations, conduct his research, hone his penmanship, carry on in the enchanted stately manor…feasting on everything the former regal getaway had to offer. Sip up the inspiring sights and sounds of the austere abode …his passing season….

  And so it was for our two adventurers…about to embark upon the short and sweet desperately needed interlude…

  The ludicrous lewd intervention would forever disrupt their deepest trust in one another… redefining everything they held close and dear.

  For logic and sound reasoning seemed to play no part in the mind shattering experience they encountered in the hallowed halls of the haunted hotel that year, 33 years to the day, the ‘Overlook’ Hotel in ‘The Shining’ nearly trapped the writer and inhabitants for all eternity in it’s hideous haunting grip.

  The late model Lexus idled, lingering on the road…the GPS.. gave no distinct fixed address …the signal simply disappeared…slipped under the radar at land’s end… or so it seemed. It gave the two a glimpse of the grand aging gargantuan

  Gateway to the Rockies….Dr Gum tapped the screen on the sophisticated sensory illuminated console….several times.

  “Damn it!”

  “Lost again are we?” asked his curious companion, and young wife. The soft complexion of her face had a cutesy girlish glow to it…in the receding hours of daylight like the lingering side effects of a romantic energetic interlude, an afternoon of delightful and lusty lovemaking….

  “There’s only one way in and out of that hotel…”.

  “Need I be reminded” the ornery perfectionist, and stickler for detail had neglected to consider a plan B…they were here for a good time..and potentially a long time, weather permitting. The thought of passing the time in the provocative historic hotel seemed to exude a sensual response from his perky wife…She’d finally have him all to herself to do as she pleased ….unfettered, free from distractions of the former dental practice slowly transitioning into a thriving publishing, screenwriting production house…mind you the mountains of paperwork accumulated at the same speed of thought pace… in lieu of the monotonous mundane medical dental histories…the last minute ‘no shows’… the absent apparitions of former smiling faces ….the charts… were now cleverly crafted million dollar concepts ….she recalled how he constantly reminded her,

  “Imagination is infinitely more important than knowledge” according to another prolific professional….albeit Albert Einstein depleted the department stores of chalk rather than rapid rolling ball point pens.

  She was the ‘meaning and inspiration’ in his life…the amusing muse…. and that “nothing shall ever come between them…” A cool chilly breeze abruptly stirred her from her dreamy state as if in a post coital recoil as she rolled down the window merely a crack….

  “It’s going to be a mean one, an early winter” he stated prognostically…never placing more than a penny in a poker game that was dependent upon predicting the outcome of the dramatic daily temperature fluctuations. Betting on an inhibited filly at the track was a surer thing.

  He activated the temperature controlled heating system. It too belched out a blast of icy air that nipped at his nubile nymph’s leggings….

  “If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will get you there.” (Lewis Caroll) “Did we miss the turnoff?

  “To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive.” (Robert Louis Stevenson) he debated with himself, having second thoughts about bringing her along?

  The solitary sentinel, like a lone watchdog appeared slowly over the last rise in the road, deceptively ascending as they gained altitude.

  A chill went up Roxy’s spine, reverberating to her very bone. She shuddered shocked by the cold breeze or equally chilling structure….she didn’t know what came over her.

  “Ah, here we are…..” he announced joyfully.

  Not a soul in sight, he cautiously took the narrow turnoff at the bottom of the hill….then snaked his way up the sinuous pathway to the summit….

  The imposing old structure seemed out of place and time with it’s rectilinear lines set against the rugged rough sharply gutted backdrop….the large parking lot…like a large landing pad for the gods….or tee off for the jolly green giant…atop the massive mesa that tapered and dropped off dramatically to the lake below….was vacant.

  The Lexus inched toward the entrance; a small ornate opening adorned with a crown and 3 ostrich feathers,….symbolic of faith and contemplation …oft depicted with keys or a horseshoe in it’s mouth. The meat of the bird lean, high in calcium and iron.

  Dr Gum peered across the picture perfect panorama. In the foreground he noticed the rows of overturned soil like a massive vegetable garden off the edge of the imposing impediment, a highly manicured waist high hedge…Odd, he thought to himself…such a short growing season…only the hardiest of plants…potatoes perhaps? rhubarb..

  Too barren and breezy for tomatoes…

  He parked the vehicle…Roxy slowly stepped out to inhale the heavenly fragrance…a blend of alpine grasses and dense deciduous forest…she became dizzy from the intoxicating, tempting tree bark and tall grasses gushing in her lungs, her tidal volume overwhelmed as her husband stepped to the back of the automobile to grab a mountain of luggage…Must’ve packed at least 27 dresses he estimated. Intent on parading around the palace in all her glory…all dressed up and no place to go…the gala events, the glitz and glamour…the three fun filled months of festivities had come and gone with the wind….Yet, he figured she packed for halloween, Christmas and a festive new year’s eve in the event they’d linger that long…

  “How dee doo?” the words echoed over the gusty mesa….A muscular middle aged man of native American descent, a blend of Blackfoot, indigenous to the area emerged suddenly…A large grin spanned his sweaty, sooty face. He tossed the shovel aside…in deep thought, slowly mulling something through his mind… “Dr Rum is it?”

  “It’s Gum, and this is my wife Roxy.” His firm albeit deceptively delicate handshake tipped him off that he was probably moonlighting as a maintenance man to supplement his income as he oft did during his formative years of medical training. A native medicine man perhaps?

  “I’m Running Deer.” A cliché? albeit catchy… name…no cause for concern…especially since the one man show seemed to keep the place running!

  “Here let me get those!” then swiftly hoisted the heavy luggage from the trunk and carried them to the front door. He set them down delicately. The aging detailed features creaked and groaned as he negotiated the keys into the custom crafted locks reminiscent of a monstrous medieval castle, a precautionary measure to keep the paranormal activists and ghost hunters out!. For years local spirit seekers and amateur camera crews were caught camping out in the hotel by local park wardens…The door creaked and moaned defiantly as it slowly crept ajar. Like an eerie early warning signal intent on informing the occupants of an intruder…One was immediately captivated by the lofty lobby and large floor to ceiling panes on the opposite expanse permitting a breathtaking panorama of the entire deeply carved mountainous lake valley lost in the distance.

  “Honey I’m home!”…In lieu of carrying his wife over the threshold, as she stood there tapping her designer footwear in disgust, he marveled at the monumental size of the foyer…Looking up into the lofty space…several foreboding rings of steel, massive ‘wagon wheel’ chandeliers with countless candelabras in small glass boxes tapered like a layered wedding cake to the ceiling. A small square recess, a secret ‘trap door’ visible only to the discerning eye sat squarely at the gradually tapering tiered balconied space. The infamous aperture, where several staff had suffered a fatal fall. Either mangled on the menacing tangled web of the chandelier which wrapped itself around the lobby or striking the dusty hardwood floor below. Either method, an end to the utter madness they had endured…smitten by the hotel manager or as some locals suggested, a sinister spirit which lay embedded in the very walls of the rickety old structure….

  “Why don’t you relax, have a look around? I’ll take these up to your room.” Running Deer disappeared into a cleverly crafted metal cage, an elevator set off near the main front doors, opposite a grand staircase that seemed carved right out of the intricate woodwork…The rickety mechanism echoed throughout the empty foyer…as it found it’s way up to the 4th floor. The world’s slowest elevator? And why only part way?…He negotiated the larger hallway ever peering up at the next floor. He decided not to place the couple in 512, the ‘haunted room’.. not wanting to spoil their ‘honeymoon’. No one requested the room, unless the hotel was entirely booked during the regular season. No point in putting them in harm’s way he figured. They’d find out what was in store… soon.

  He set their luggage in one of the large

  ‘Lakeview’ Suites…home to legendary leaders, royalty, presidents, prominent entertainment personalities and those who simply sought to get away from the cares of the world, in style.

  The austere space still oozed simple sumptuous cozy creature comfort. Sparsely appointed, the room had a fanciful grained rosewood trim, a few Victorian aged dressers and drawers..a high back comfy sofa and chairs, end tables each with tiffany lamps and a small radio. He placed the Samsonite luggage on the large king sized bed…then opened the ensuite door to reveal a deep European style tub and wrap around shower.

  Roxy was aroused by the opulent, ornate and certainly out of the way locale. A perfect choice to renew their faith, and their first chance to truly get away. Her nervousness showed.

  “It’s sooo beautiful. Just what the doctor ordered. It’s the perfect place to get away from it all. To write that novel you’ve been dying to pen. I’m so glad you asked me to tag along.” She rushed toward him. He turned, wasting no time to reciprocate with a big bear hug in the middle of the massive meeting space. “I love you sweet heart.” He eyed the upper balconies…as if expecting approval or applause from the ghosts of former star studded celebrities. Amongst all the glamorous guests who had looked out eyeing the who’s who of distinguished guests to grace the gala gathering place….A little performance anxiety perhaps? Sharing the same feelings even presidents must’ve felt, taking the plunge with their first ladies in waiting. Hopefully he’d rise to the occasion this evening, their first night in their new, anything but humble, abode. His mistress still in his arms, he spun her around for a 360 degree panorama picking out the perfect spot from which to pen his book.

  “This is it!” He released her from his grip and stepped toward the edge of the sparsely appointed lobby. Several clusters of finely threaded leather covered sofas and chairs were strategically arranged to allow the most compelling views of the lake. The small enclaves were maximized for optimum privacy amidst the exceptional acoustics of the chamber. The massive ebony desk, more massive than the remnants of the Resolute in the Oval office struck his attention immediately. The perfect place and strategic vantage point from which to write his most promising best seller. He took his place behind the desk ceremoniously. One eye ever present on the endless array of fine whiskies and other enticing intoxicants lining the glass shelves of the Weeping Willow lounge to his right. Brandy snifters, long Cuban cigars, it’s tobacco leaves rolled on the thighs of virgins. To while away the long cold creative nights; of course he had his trusty loving companion to keep him company under the covers of the night…With one sweeping glance he imagined the former glitz and glamour of the Hotel in it’s great Gatsby hey day. Great Neck, N.Y. during the jazz era, the boot legging prohibition, running whiskey across the border. The Great Northern Railway, the effort of the determined ‘Empire Builder’ James J. Hill; a tireless tycoon who turned the dream into a reality during the midst of the depression. Where all other rails had gone bankrupt, his line stood the test of time and slowly reached fruition with the erection of 7 massive monuments, the Glacier Park Hotels in the NE USA. Inspite of early set backs, blinded in one eye by an arrow accident, JJ blazed a trail through the harsh wilderness. He subdued every obstacle…including the native Indian population with a little help from President Grover Cleveland, who later repealed laws permitting Hill to run track through treacherous Blackfoot Indian territory.

  A noise jilted him back to reality…the irritable trapdoor….. began to take it’s toll. It slammed suddenly as a gust of wind rose over the bluff …literally shaking the structure, creaking and groaning in an eerie defiance, determined to remain rooted atop the desolate mesa for the remainder for the century…for all eternity for that matter.

  Running Deer returned from his seemingly endless run up and down the perpetual motion machination, practically at a standstill. The cumbersome stairs may have been a quicker alternative.

  “There’s an ample supply for winter” remarked the connoisseur of alcoholic concoctions. Roxy turned toward him admiring the breathtaking view from the front window. Her demeanor changed drastically as her eyes darted around the Weeping Willow lounge. She realized her worst fear, the lurking demons, that had haunted their marriage… She hoped to bury the past…former fiascos of her own family linked to the liquor…She had tried to lock them away in the recesses of her mind.

  Not fan or fuel the flames of desire, the lurid lust and endless legacy of carnage. She could not fathom the endless array of enticing colorful sparkling glass; it unsettled her. It sent a shock wave through her…which seemed to reverberate through the very shelves…did she imagine it or about to realize her worst fear?

  “Why don’t we run into town…grab a few things before the general store shuts down?” he paused, then added “I have a surprise.”

  Dr Gum reached out and took Roxy by the arm, she still in a state of shock.. He assumed the ambience; the awe inspiring view, and the altitude.

  Running Deer turned off the porch lights, to conserve energy perhaps? His jalopy was parked outside, an old Ford truck that merely had to get him from point A to B…and the occasional run to the nearest town of Buffalo Butte in the event of an unforeseen life threatening emergency.

  Dr Gum couldn’t get over the lumpy lines of overturned soil and sod…perhaps a Blackfoot ceremony, but he lost his gumption to ask RD, captivated by the awesome sight and silence of the remote retreat. Roxy too, was lost in the moment, deep in thought, inspired by the tranquil treed terrain. RD looked to his left then turned abruptly onto the two lane highway as if by instinct. No one ever came down the isolated road this time of year anyway. Only those heading out of town! The Ford crept along…to the left, the narrow inlet know as Enchanted Bay separated the hilltop from the town of Wutherington. A row of rustic cabins and tall pine trees lined the lake on the town’s side. RD didn’t bother to signal as he negotiated the sharp corner… onto main street. A lone innkeeper was climbing his stepladder affixing a shingle to his establishment. K.I..L.L..R..O..then a marked gap…then the remaining Y…Why the gap? Like a game of hangman wondered the astute dentist rather amused yet equally alarmed by the odd name…of the lodge. The Killroy? He had read the original structure built, even before the POW hotel circa 1927, had mysteriously burnt to the ground the previous year. Some sordid rumors suggested spontaneous combustion. The maids doing the dirty laundry, the lakeside lodge’s little secret? Rumors circulated. Yet later dispelled, the cause of the blaze due to careless handling of laundry cleaners? Some local folk still claim there’s more to it than meets the eye. That the poor maid was not to blame. He decided to let sleeping dogs lie and delve into it deeper another day.

  The Ford ambled down the deathly still main street. It seemed to slip into slumber as they passed the old mortician’s cabin, Jebb Evans. His daughter Becky, the brunt of several jokes he had read some where; ‘that she’d buried more stiffs than he did’!

  “A real ghost town!” remarked RD…as they passed the last pine tree. A long finger reached out into the lake. A lone fixture sat at the end of the dock fixing some fishing line or mending a frayed knot. No one paid particularly much attention. First and foremost was the foreboding presence of the POW Hotel as if perched atop it’s regal throne towering over it’s loyal subjects, the captive audience enclosed in the steep walls of the valley.

  Carved over eons of time..the small spit of land, a stone’s throw from the ever present POW. Always within gun sight; watching from every possible vantage point, escape impossible. The Ford pulled into the parking lot of the Lakeview Inn. An adjoining grocery store supplied all the rations for the rest of the town throughout the summer.

  The three trekked into the store as if lost, out of time and place. The store keeper was shutting everything down.. they’d arrived just in the nick of time it seemed.

  “She’s gonna be a long cold one.. felt a chill to my very bone.”

  “We’ll just grab a few things Gus..” assured RD then they’d be out of his hair.

  “Help yourselves, I’m headin’ for the hills, Beverley Hills. Anywhere but this God forsaken ice box. Why wait for spring?” he chuckled.

  They cleared him out of house and home, and quickly emptied the shelves.

  “Plannin’ to feed an army…of ghosts?” he asked facetiously. RD rushed them out the door before the comment sunk in. They placed the goods in the back of the truck . He turned down toward the dock. The forlorn long faced fisherman wearing an old grimy baseball cap with the lone word, and presumptuous title - ‘Captain’ emblazoned on it.

  “You folks need a lift?”

  The three adventurers looked at each other.

  “Well, you’re in luck. There’s always room for one more.”

  He got off his stool and stepped up to the plank, a long rickety old board spanning the gap between them and the Miss Wutherington. An imposing 100 passenger double decker craft…the only vessel still out on the lake…about to be tucked in for winter.

  “Surprise!” announced RD.

  “Watch your step” warned the captain raspingly.

  They trek across the rickety gang plank…peering nervously into the deep dark icy waters. Roxy rushed to the upper deck, cautiously gripping the icy aluminum handrail for a better bird’s eye view off the bow. As she turned around the presence of the POW unnerved her. It’s appearance, akin to an angry relative or ancestor; the large lobby windows like two temperamental eyelets…peering over a fence? Both curious about who’s coming to town, cunning, conniving; not sure if it wanted to be bothered by company! But that was only her interpretation of the image. The captain introduced himself as Rick and quickly took the wheel of the vessel. Dr Gum joined Roxy up top. He knew the fresh air would do them a world of good. Three loud blasts startled them…as the seasoned mariner maneuvered the massive marine marvel slowly from her moorings. As if gently easing a sword from it’s scabbard, the old scalawag backed the behemoth from it’s narrow berth. He cranked the wheel hard and spun her on a dime…then beelined for the bell tower high atop the POW.

  “Off to the left at the bottom of Enchanted Bay” blared the intercom…breaking the peace and quiet they so desperately longed for.. “lies the wreck of the Germaine in some 20-60’ of water. An old rum runner… that ran out of luck.”

  The vessel careened close to the rocky shore below the crumbling cliffs of the hotel.

  “Several sea otters crashed up on the rocks attempting to land in the middle of winter.” They got the picture... menacing, extremely isolated in the dead of winter. No way in or out.

  The vessel picked up speed at the head of the lake…beelining for a point on the opposite shore, she kicked up quite a wake. Dr Gum and Roxy hustled below deck out of the fierce frisky icy breeze. They ventured to the stern looking back in amazement and angst…at the town receding in the distance. Only the POW seemed to remain in suspended animation, surreal, staring back … …..hypnotizing them.

  “Ah to be in love…again” lauded the captain as he eyed the two lovebirds in the large rear view mirror. Roxy was still spellbound by the structure as Dr Gum realized the captain was approaching a deserted beach at breakneck speed.. Was he drunk? Fell asleep at the wheel? he wondered?…In one swift motion the learned laker lassoed a small post…as if entered in the One hundred thousand dollar rodeo finals at the Calgary Stampede. The massive vessel ceded to the small frayed rope and came to an abrupt stop inches from the shore. They hopped off at the small stony beach, Crypt Lake trail head. RD rushed to start a fire, grabbing prepared kindling from his previous outing. The soothing warmth was most welcome by one and all. The crackling embers leapt into the air like excited fireflies…Roxy watched them rise amongst the tips of the tall pine trees lost in the twilight zone. Her attention always veered to the ominous ever present oppressive dark outline dotting the opposite end of the lake. She swore she saw a light come on.

  “They’re at it again” announced RD accustomed to the routine ritual.

  “Not another ‘tale from the crypt’?” chuckled Rick, an insider quip?

  “No point spookin’ ‘em albeit the locals know”. Roxy and her husband looked at each other perplexed. “A vision?.. There was a wise man and woman who ascended to the top of Chaff Mt, Along the way he killed a porcupine, used the blood to color the garment bright red. They were the prettiest couple. As many a young brave embarks on a ‘vision quest’…to the top of the Mt. to remain for three days from sunrise til sunset… with only his ‘medicine bundle’; sleeping on only buffalo skulls as pillows awaiting his ‘vision’ to determine his destiny….”

  “It’s dead” as Roxy tried her phone…no link to the outside world.

  “Won’t get any reception ‘round here, it’s a dead zone” commented Captain Rick.

  Their anxious faces radiated in the glowing crackling fire.

  “I see a sick elk” says RD somberly, disturbed.

  Normally a sign of health, this was a bad omen. Equally frightening was a furry white rabbit, a death omen in Blackfoot lore, not the lucky rabbit’s foot.

  “We have to go back to the POW at once to smoke a pipe,” the only known remedy. “But first, a ‘ghost dance’!” Roxy and Dr Gum were moved by the clever charade, curious, caught unawares, drawn deeper into the unfolding drama.…as RD shuffled around the fire chanting….

  “Claims to make him practically bulletproof.. impervious to pain” comments the Captain.

  “It is done.” RD had deliberated, in a desperate attempt to avert something….

  They returned to the vessel, let the cinders of the smoldering fire rise……then beelined back to Wutherington. At the other end of the lake at Ghost Haunt, a couple of park wardens thought nothing of the rising smoke…the tell tale last sign of the end of the season and the advent of a long cold harsh winter. They kept an eye on it…though.

  The bow light pierced the darkness that crept over the lake, for but a short distance. Roxy was fixated on an upper story light…Dr Gum, too, became entranced in the odd exception to the rule. The ruler’s left the lights on? They bid the Captain goodbye, likely the last they’d see of him ‘til spring. They left the parking lot, the prominent beacon on the hill guiding the way.

  RD couldn’t recall leaving any lights on….He then realized this season would be no different from all the rest. Up to it’s old tricks…teasing, taunting, terrorizing the endless list of travelers who had attempted to stay for the duration of the winter. The irritable rambunctious rabble rouser remained, the entity would likely outlive even him; it’d certainly outlived his welcome!

  Amazon.com

  Excerpted from "Rising" by Bernie Unrau. Copyright © 2009 by Bernie Unrau. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing.

  Last updated: Thursday Aug 4, 4:00pm EDT
• The screenplay was inspired by real events?

  THE BOUNDARY
  JUNE 11, 2010
  4
  By Wade Paterson
  Reporter
  Despite being a hardworking dentist, Dr. Bernie Unrau doesn’t take summers off to relax. For him, the tamest of the four seasons is spent indoors, at his desk, pumping out medical science fiction thrillers. He’s continued this tradition since 1989, resulting in more than 20 self-published novels.
  His years as an employee in Waterton Lakes National Park gave him the idea for his latest work of fiction.
  “I spent many of my formative years in Waterton. I spent about five summers down there in the mid-80s running the tour boat,” said Unrau.
  “At the end of the day I usually spent my time in the lobby of the old Prince of Wales Hotel.”
  Unrau said his curiosity about the unique architectural masterpiece increased as he continually heard famous Waterton ghost stories from locals.
  “I often wondered about the old place and I was given a few special tours and was actually led inside the inner workings of the hotel, through some of the secret passageways.”
  The Calgary dentist saw a similarity between the Prince of Wales Hotel and the Overlook Hotel: the setting of Stephen King’s 1977 horror novel, The Shining.
  “It had been almost 30 years since The Shining came out. I figured maybe it’s a good time to do a story, there might be something here.”
  The book follows Dr. Gum, a protagonist who Unrau admits is based loosely on himself. Gum plans to investigate the Prominence of Way Hotel after a series of paranormal activity reportedly occurs. Meanwhile, in the Weeping Willow Lounge, native tarot cards unveil an ill-fated future for the fictional dentist. Gum and his new bride Roxy move into the hotel and quickly get caught up in a series of horrific events.
  Though Unrau wanted the setting of Waterton to stick in readers’ minds, he changed the names of various locations for fictional purposes.
  “Waterton became Wutherington; Emerald Bay became Enchanted Bay. Everything was changed except for Crypt Lake.”
  Unrau has no problem with those who judge a book by his cover. The novelist said that the front is one of his favourite features of the book.
  “The cover of the book is a photo I took of the hotel. But to compress it into the 4x7 cover looks creepier, so it just turns into a great shocking story.”
  Unrau has big plans for his newest novel. He said that a film version is currently in the works.
  “The book was adapted into a screenplay and that’s been reviewed now by a number of producers. I had a long discussion with an L.A. company and I was truly trying to pitch the area.”
  Though time will tell whether or not Unrau’s science fiction will take off, he said that the setting will appeal to the Waterton crowd who don’t mind being spooked.
  Author sets book around Waterton
  Wade Paterson photo
  Bernie Unrau’s newest book is a fictional tale that is loosely based on the Prince of Wales Hotel in Waterton Lakes National Park. The book was written in the summer of 2009 and Unrau hopes it will be made into a film adaptation.
  Submitted photo
  The cover of Bernie Unrau’s fictional book loosely based on the Prince of Wales Hotel.
  Do you have a story idea?
  E-mail Wade
  news@watertonboundary.com

  Last updated: Thursday Aug 4, 4:02pm EDT
• Are you planning to make more horror films?

  Yes. I have a horrific hundred year old murder mystery based on the Del Coronado Hotel in San Diego called "Phantom of the Operatory" . "Sky Parlor" presents a perplexing series of surreal supernatural events at a haunted pub and former funeral home in progress. "Montauk Monster" explores the unexplained eerie origins of the elusive Roxy...an amusing muse from the past, present or future? Several shocking science fiction thrillers in discussion. We'll see.

  Last updated: Thursday Aug 4, 4:04pm EDT
• You've been compared to Michael Crichton or Robin Cook?

  Initially inspired by a 4 minute video of Robin Leach interviewing Robin Cook back in the mid '80's and how he composed his shockers in about 6 weeks each summer. I said 'by God, I can do that!". I never looked back. PTA (Planned TV Arts) , the NYC publicists have compared my stories to those of Michael Crichton for their intense research and harrowing realism of science gone awry, worst case scenario type thrillers.

  Last updated: Thursday Aug 4, 4:05pm EDT
• How can I participate in the actual film?

  Discuss all walk on set credits with Chris Soth during the preproduction phase
  at Chris@milliondollarscreenwriting.com

  Last updated: Thursday Aug 4, 6:44pm EDT