Back when I first saw the ad in Suspect Press, my mind was made up. Who wouldn’t want to go on a Haunted Writer’s Retreat? The supernatural had always been a mystifying concept for me, the kind of thing you want so badly to believe in, but can’t bring yourself to justify. Seeing is believing, but then again, the eyes have their own way to play tricks on you, and ghosts can come in many forms. This trip was a chance for me to come to terms with unknowable entities and surround myself with otherworldly artistry.
There’s a big difference between career writing and writing because you love language, the way words can string together to form a beautiful soliloquy. I wanted to get back to that, the kind of immersive writing that becomes a therapeutic experience. The retreat was held in Victor, Colorado, about two-and-a-half hours away from Denver.
Driving further into the mountains at the end of February was undoubtedly going to be too cold for comfort, but appropriate enough for a group of people who were seeking out seclusion for their own benefit. A sense of isolation abounds as soon as you turn the corner into a town that has clearly made an effort to tuck themselves away.
It looked quaint, although half the buildings in what is considered downtown are abandoned. The string of vacancies added to the unsettling ambience I had felt upon arrival. still, it was picturesque, like it was straight out of the gold rush era. To be fair, mining was still the most sought-after job in the area when these structures were built.
The architecture is impressive, especially since most structures stand on their original foundation. A century ago, almost the entire town mysteriously burned to the ground. It’s funny how a place’s most historic tragedy can become the pique of interest to eight strangers desperate for a change of pace.
I walked up the dimly lit staircase of the Black Monarch Hotel, holding back my expectations. As I walked through the door, it felt as if I had stepped onto the set of American Horror Story. The top floor of the hotel had been renovated but maintained the integrity of the original decor. The aura was authentic with a gothic, victorian interior: preserved organisms in jars; trinkets of all shapes and sizes lining the shelves; long, satin curtains; and an array of eclectic light fixtures.
Everything was in its place, and it felt like if I moved anything, I would be cursed for all of eternity. Even the rooms had a mystique all their own, with themes and decorations inspired by the likes of wicked historical figures. One room is dedicated to Elizabeth Bathory, also known as the blood countess, who remains the most infamous female serial killer to have ever lived. Another room is dedicated to Black Annis, a mythical witch who snatches and eats unsuspecting children. Needless to say, every room at The Black Monarch is filled with spine-chilling remembrances.
I set my luggage aside and went to meet the rest of the group. All things considered, we couldn’t have been a more diverse lot, but one, unifying factor had brought us together. We were all lonely wanderers, taking an opportunity to slip away from the grind of our lives and write without the thriving distractions we were all-too-used to being surrounded by.
That first night was dedicated to introductions, getting settled in, and of course, a Steven King adaptation. There was no doubt that our eerie accommodations were met with eerie presences, and they were sure to spur inspiration. After all, the Black Monarch was originally built as a casino, saloon, and brothel and when it burned down, a host of spirits became permanent residents. The hotel is rumored to be one of the most paranormal sites in Colorado.
The next morning, sun burst through my window and woke me up bright and early. I immediately picked up a pen and started writing. The town was quiet, and the chill that crept inside my room told me it was below freezing outside. I wrote for about an hour, took a hot bath, and made my way to meet up with everyone . All week, time was a loose concept, but we created a schedule in between meals. Breakfast, workshops, lunch, free-writing, dinner, movie, bed.
Although this schedule had room for fluctuation, I enjoyed the fluid routine that we fell into. There was never any pressure to produce a finished product or any deadlines that had to be met, yet it was important to make use of the time that I had. Opportunities like this don’t come often enough.
Miraculously, the weather had a slight spike on Wednesday and an unanimous decision was made to get out of the hotel in order to explore the town. Victor has a walking circumference of about ten minutes, so we decided to go slightly out of bounds to the cemetery. Snow-capped mountains encapsulated our view. Upon walking past the gates and into the cemetery, you could literally breathe in the history.
Taking notice of the many graves, I felt inclined to tell their stories. There were families, couples, infants, and there was no doubt that no matter how long they had lived, it had been a hard life up there in Victor. It was humbling. We all began to wonder which headstones held hosts whose souls were still stuck in the past, watching over the current residents.
As the end of the week drew near, none of us wanted the retreat to end. We had created a little community, and it felt so comfortable to be around people that understood the struggles writers face on a daily basis. Yet, we all had to get back to reality at some point or another. Thursday was our last night at The Black Monarch, so after dinner, we decided to share some of what we had written over the past few days.
I was in complete awe; everyone in that group had a profoundly unique voice and perspective on the world. I was also so grateful to be a part of this experience, which was the first of its kind. The haunted writers retreat was organized by Josiah Hesse of Suspect Press and Erin K. Barnes, public relations representative for The Black Monarch. The retreat was sponsored by Meow Wolf Denver, Mutiny Information Cafe, Sexy Pizza, and Lit On Lit. It was a wild success and just as spooky as it sounds, so keep your eyes peeled for the next haunted getaway.
Photos by Glenn Ross
