The events you’re about to read are compiled by two employees of Sunset Springs Waterpark and Resort. Due to the uninspired naming and marketing of said property, there are surely thousands of “Sunset Springs” out there in the world yet these events take place in one specific location completely unrelated to any other. Given this story encompasses events experienced separately, as well as together from the authors, it will be written in first person from their perspectives. If an event was witnessed by both authors, it will be written in the third person. The town these atrocities take place in is one of the countless towns that survive purely off the tourism industry related to the Appalachian Trail and more specifically the Smoky Mountains National Park. An area known for more family-oriented tourism, this place is not a party town by any stretch of the imagination. A southern tourist trap to its core, not much debauchery or vulgarity is openly displayed. Yet beneath all the overpriced attractions and wholesome veneer, staggering human trafficking rates and drug use statistics lie purposefully hidden. Due to the constant influx of tourists and its proximity to highways; it is very easy for a person to just vanish without anyone being the wiser around here. Surrounded by poor backwater towns and underdeveloped counties, it is a wicked Garden of Eden in a desert of poverty.
Don’t call us whistleblowers. We said nothing until it was too late. Don’t call us heroes. There were many that could have been saved. Simply call us, witnesses.
CALLAHAN’S LOG
I started working at Sunset Springs as a lifeguard almost a year ago and at first it seemed like overall a decent job. Sunset Springs had the highest paying lifeguard position in the state and was barely a 20 minute drive from my house. Emergencies rarely happened so by far the most difficult part about the job was trying to commend respect from people while wearing the company’s hideous yellow tank tops and baggy orange swim shorts. Getting paid to look like a jackass and be bored all summer was not a bad deal in the slightest, yet I yearn for an existence where I never took the job. I opened a door that I can never shut, discovered a world that I can never leave, and have seen things that I will never unsee.
Sunset Springs was the very definition of an eyesore. It was a towering resort in the middle of the tourist strip, obnoxiously painted in the brightest “sunny colors” imaginable. By far the tackiest place I’ve ever seen, each of the seven floors was painted in a different but equally unappealing shade of yellow, orange, or red. The carpets, stained with dingy grime from subpar cleaning, were patterned in rays and sunbursts of yellow and orange. If that wasn’t enough with the sun gimmick, the resort’s god awful clip art setting-sun logo was slapped onto practically everything. Even the fake wooden flooring of the lobbies and halls had an aggressive red hue to them. As the lifeguards were pretty much secluded in the outdoor waterpark, I rarely was inside the hotel other than the jarringly colorless employee areas to clock in and out of my shift.
Calling Otto Otter’s Oasis a waterpark was using the term waterpark very loosely. I thought the last waterpark I worked at was small, but it was a monolith in comparison to Otto Otter’s Oasis. The waterpark consisted of a pool, two unimpressive slides, and a kiddie splash area that was mostly broken; this place was more of a puddle than an oasis. Otto Otter’s Oasis itself was surprisingly plain in comparison to the gaudy hotel, with it being composed mostly of undecorated concrete surrounded by a simple yellowish fence. Sure, its slides were bright orange and Otto Otter was plastered in a few places, but overall it was a surprisingly drab and depressing place despite being the resort’s main attraction.
Over the summer, I tried my best to be the perfect model employee, lest I be fired from an Aarden-owned property. An absurdly wealthy family-owned business, the Aarden family owns and operates numerous hotels, restaurants, and attractions within several towns in this general area. Finding a job after being fired from an Aarden-owned business is practically impossible, for they own almost a quarter of the town and what they don’t own you bet they’re on a first name basis with the owner. Hardly the crown jewel of the Aardens’ tourism empire, Sunset Springs wasn’t even their most profitable resort. The most popular property was Starline Ridge, an equally shotty resort barely five miles away from Sunset Springs, which the Aardens showed a prominent favoritism to.
Nothing seemed to really happen at Otto Otter’s Oasis for the first two or three months, maybe a rude guest or a kid slipping after running on wet concrete but nothing of actual note. Monotonous but you can’t really expect much more when your job is to literally watch water and tell people they can’t take their newborn down a water slide. However, this all changed when the company started construction on a new building for the resort. Due to the proximity to the construction site, portions of the already shriveled waterpark would have to be closed for a few hours whilst the others stayed open for the guests. Anytime they would shut down sections of the waterpark, the higher ups would always rush to get it back open as soon as possible even when construction was still technically going on. Even if the area was not considered safe by state law, the general manager would become frantic if it stayed closed for longer than around two hours.
The general manager of the resort was an older woman by the name of Eleanor Adeline. Though only in her early fifties, she appeared wizened and aged by something, surely being the general manager isn’t that stressful. Looking more akin to a woman in her late sixties, Eleanor’s short greying hair and frumpy fashion sense granted her few favors. Her cadence was marked by a distinct coldness that would occasionally seep into her artificial overenthusiasm. I swear to god she would rarely blink.
With the construction, Eleanor would keep a far closer eye on the waterpark. Constantly checking the outdoor cameras, monitoring the radios the lifeguards had for brief exchanging of information, and erratically taking brief strolls throughout the park; nothing could escape the bizarrely observant, borderline paranoid gaze of Eleanor. Interestingly enough, she rarely paid attention to the construction site itself, just the guards and the guests themselves. She always seemed nervous after construction began and the further along it went, the more sporadic her behavior became.
As an outdoor park that’s mildly close to a wooded area, bugs and birds were always the bane of our existence during the summer. But as the construction continued, all signs of living wildlife disappeared. Birds seemed to avoid flying too closely to the park, swerving out of its direction with panic-stricken cawing. Great piles of dead bugs would accumulate around the jaundice yellow fence, not even the smallest of gnats were seen in the park after construction began.
Rumors of strange happenings began to spread through our staff like wildfire: things seemingly being moved at random, company property disappearing from locked sheds only to reappear in the pool weeks later, odd noises coming from the empty pool closet, a strange gasoline-like smell emanating solely from the bathrooms, unnatural water movements within an empty pool, fresh blood appearing on sinks or toilets despite just opening that morning, etc. The waterpark manager was admittedly a pretty apathetic guy and would often turn a blind eye to many things wrong with the park and the staff itself, the job had clearly drained any optimism he might have once had. He remained skeptical and lackadaisically dismissive, until an expensive CPR-training manikin disappeared without a trace despite him being the only one in the waterpark at the time.
Though most of these occurrences were observed by staff, some guests reported strange phenomena. Several children had received similar scratch marks after swimming in the pool, though this was attributed to horseplay at the time, that doesn’t quite explain the bizarre shape of said scratches. The one drowning we had over the summer was strange to say the least. A five year old girl unfortunately went under without her father, mere inches away, even noticing. As it was very busy that day, the nearest lifeguard didn’t notice until guests quickly threw a little girl onto land, throwing up water. While she did survive, she had water in her lungs and had to be rushed to the hospital. The somehow sole witness to notice her go under in a packed pool, a boy probably seven or eight, was later heard claiming “the water dragged her under” and that the water “forced” its way down her throat. There was rumors amongst the guards that the girl had scratch marks on her ankles, similar to the telltale mark that would occasionally appear on children swimming. I was at the entirely opposite end of the park when this incident occurred so I cannot verify what exactly happened to the girl.
There is nothing paranormal about drowning, it is a very real and serious thing. It is our entire job to ensure that doesn’t happen. Drownings can be very quick especially for a child, however, the father claims to have turned his back for mere seconds and the child was seen swimming decently well for her age prior to the incident. She went down quickly and had to have swallowed a lot of water instantly. It’s an odd incident but isn’t necessarily impossible. Some of the phenomena might have had completely rational explanations, if they’re not complete exaggerations.
I was skeptical to say the least at first, until one morning we came to discover something horrible. Mounds of birds had been shoved into all four of the pool’s skimmers, not a drop of blood between them. Lifeless sacks of feathers and bone, they appeared to be sucked completely clean of any gore or viscera. Management was clearly informed about the theft and vandalism yet seemingly did nothing in response, prompting two lifeguards to quit. Despite their conflicting statements in the past regarding “checking the cameras,” cameras on property supposedly do not record and only show live feeds. Though the strange happenings did seem to become fewer and far between after informing management.
With the construction of the new building coming to completion, the waterpark was allowed to stay open fully thus ending the frantic moderation by Eleanor almost instantly. Eleanor was rarely seen in Otto Otter’s Oasis again, almost like she was avoiding it entirely. Occasionally popping in to check on us if we were understaffed, Eleanor had gained an apparent distaste of the waterpark though made an effort to be overtly nice to the remaining lifeguards. Not too long after these incidents started dying down, the waterpark manager and a supervisor were fired on the same day. The exact reason for these firings were unclear, however, Eleanor personally made sure they left the premises immediately but not before she gave them a lengthy declaration in the parking lot. Whatever she said, they somehow went paler than when they were escorted out of the resort. Despite the many concerned texts we sent, none of us have heard from the manager or that supervisor again. While some say upper management had reasons to suspect these two were involved in the theft and vandalism, none of us truly believe that this could account for half of the strange occurrences within Otto Otter’s Oasis.
It took them forever to refill the open positions, not for the lack of people but clearly for the lack of trying. That being said the rest of the season was rough due to the understaffing and them hiring poor candidates for the job. The new waterpark manager was pretty much entirely free range and she completely abused this fact, as the resort’s higher ups didn’t touch the waterpark unless they had to. They didn’t even bother to fill the open supervisor position.
Nearing the end of the season, nothing out of the ordinary had happened in months. The waterpark was open in March and closed during the end of October. Though construction would start on an indoor waterpark soon, so they’ll never have to fully close. Fantastic… These days were far too cold for swimming yet not cold enough to close according to company policy. It was very slow with the scant few people still venturing out into the park. Parents would sit back all bundled up with their hot drinks while their kids went down freezing water slides in their bathing suits, their lips blue and purple yet the parents nor the kids themselves really seem to care.
I went to clean the bathrooms as we were about to close the park, it’s been a bit and waterpark bathrooms can become appalling very fast. I am greeted by the men’s bathroom in complete and utter disarray. A strong, familiar scent of gasoline and filth wafted out into the chilly October air. The paper towel dispenser had been ripped from the wall, the stall door removed from its hinges, soap bottles pierced by many savage holes, the sinks overflowing with water, the urinal and floor drain clogged by what resembled filthy human hair. The floor was littered in shards of broken mirror and feathers. Upon the counter, a CPR-training manikin was propped up against the wall. With strange shapes carved all over its face, a crude wooden crown upon its brow, and a dead bird shoved into its tiny mouth; it was surrounded by a strange circle of what I can only assume was hair and the occasional lifeguard whistle that would go missing.
I have never felt more nauseous in my entire life. My legs felt numb, while my head buzzed with every sensation possible and more. This feeling wasn’t just fear, it was fear evolved into something entirely new. After trying my best to explain to my manager what had happened through broken speech, her usual overconfidence drained into a concerned stare. Only being around for a few months, she had experienced nothing from the height of the summer.
After calling higher management, she was summoned up to Eleanor’s office while Tim Barclay and a few other men inspected the bathroom. Tim was another manager on the property, a self-important man who always acted like he had a higher position than he actually did. Built like a Popeye villain and with a smirk that silently implied everyone but himself was an idiot, there was something oddly imposing and almost sinister about the man. Without even so much as asking a guard a single question, they had closed the door and told us all to go home. Making sure each guard left, they locked the gate behind us and stared until we were inside the resort.
Due to the “change of weather,” we were informed the waterpark would not open again this season, closing down a week early. Ending the season, management decided to lay off most of our team, including our manager whose layoff was rumored to be permanent. Leaving myself and two other lifeguards the sole remnants of our team; upper management had placed me in the resort’s arcade for the down season while the two other guards were sent to the already overcrowded aquatics staff of our sister property’s indoor waterpark. Originally, they were planning to send me to Starline Ridge as well, yet the arcade “desperately needed help” so I was held behind. Upper management had the habit of throwing employees into any department or position if they needed to be filled, making the decision for you.
By all accounts, I should have quit after I saw the manikin in the bathroom yet I stayed. Whether out of curiosity, fear, bravery, stupidity, or all of the above; I continued to work at Sunset Springs. There was something here, something foul. Sunset Springs was hiding something beneath its family-friendly facade. The waterpark was just the beginning.
CLARKE’S LOG
What a difference a day makes. I went from engaged, to single, to unemployed in just under 24 hours. Moral of that short but tragic story? Don’t date coworkers. But that’s nothing compared to what I and my co-author are writing these entries about. Shortly after a devastating string of bad luck, I found what I thought was my ticket out of the dumps. A job posting for an arcade that paid more, and had more benefits than the job I had to just quit. “Sunset Springs Resort Arcade Attendant.” The posting read above the list of lucrative details. I applied and was given a call for an interview within a day. I was hired on the spot and they even agreed to my previously scheduled vacation from my last job. Within 4 months the company recognized my technical abilities and asked me if I’d like to transfer to the maintenance department for yet another pay raise. I enthusiastically agreed and from there my part in the coming events began.
Being in maintenance gave me access to almost every area of the decently sized resort. But at first, I had no reason to be suspicious of anything so I came and went, day to day. Without more than glances at the grimy back rooms, stairwells, and the oddly tall boxes full of “paperwork” from years past. For my first few months in maintenance I had a second guy on night shift with me. His name was Jimmy. He’d been working maintenance there for almost a year and taught me exactly how to remain out of sight and out of mind while keeping up with what had to be done. We spent more time sharing memes in the maintenance shop than anything else though.
But such was the job in a resort where renovations and expansions had been so frequent as of late. Touching up scuffed paint and unclogging drains were the most strenuous tasks more common than not. Jimmy started having car trouble frequently though and being late too many times eventually gave Tim, the hardass ex-marine “manager on duty,” the ammo he needed to get rid of one of the duo of “slackers”. I of course being the other one cited. I lived no more than five minutes away though meaning I had to really try to give any excuse to Tim to axe me too. Jimmy was let go and subsequently told Tim to “eat shit” on his way out the door. All alone, my first experiences with the dark side of sunset springs really began.
My first actual event that gave me a sense of dread was right after Jimmy was fired. The resort had just started renovations on the oldest wing of the building; mostly new paint and redoing the ceilings from textured to flat. Being on night shift while the resort was closed for the renovation meant I was the only person in the building all night. One particular night while touching up paint on the 7th floor, I heard what sounded like a grown man cough down at the end of the hall. This startled me slightly and I cautiously searched every room in the hallway for the source of the noise. Every room was empty and organized as it was by the housekeeping staff before we closed the building. I cautiously entered 1728, the last room at the end of the hall. I heard the sound of footsteps hurrying down the stairs of the stairwell on the opposite side of the hall. I darted over and through the door into the stairwell. But I was too late and whoever or whatever was playing hide and seek with me had already vanished. The rest of that night I felt the need to look over my shoulder like I was being followed. Or perhaps, stalked is the better word.
A few days after that the building was partially open to bring in some much needed cash on the weekends for the resort. I received a call from Tim asking me to go close to an air conditioning duct in the ceiling that had fallen open in one of the common areas. However as I approached the duct, it was immediately apparent it could only be opened from the inside. To make it even more suspicious there were drops of a dried, reddish brown substance on the granite countertop underneath the duct. I told myself it was dried barbecue sauce or ketchup someone spilled while carrying their lunch from “Willow’s Wolf Den Diner,” the shoddy little burger and hot dog joint the resort set up close to the pool area. I finished the job by using my screwdriver to flip the little latch on the inside of the duct back in place through its grates. I pondered that event specifically for a while even before the events became too sinister to ignore or make sense of.
A week or so after that event I was alone again during the week and coming out of the elevators near that same area as the air duct when I heard the door leading to Otto Otter’s Oasis violently swing open and shut behind me. I jumped a little and spun around to see that no one could be seen on either side of the glass pane double doors. I slowly approached the doors and started to open them when almost out of nowhere, the wind kicked up and a wave of heavy rain started to blanket the property. However, there was no logical way that the wind could have blown open those double doors because they push open from the inside, in addition to being locked until the black box next to the doors is scanned by an employees key fob or a guests ID bracelet.
Those ID bracelets. “For the safety and security of the guests” they told us when they implemented them. These bracelets contain a rfid chip that guests use to do everything from open the door to their rooms and to the amenities such as the waterpark. To charge purchases directly to their rooms without ever having to pull out their wallet or open a purse. They’re one of the few innovative ideas in the resort. So much so that it almost seems out of place with the obviously cheap systems and materials used in so many others. They always kind of rubbed me the wrong way though. Especially given the biggest rule for guests is you must keep them on throughout your entire stay. The bracelets are disposable and can’t be reattached properly if removed as well which means even when guests venture out into the rest of town they are wearing the sunset springs ID bracelet.
Towards the end of the shutdown for renovation, I got called to do a routine work order in the closed building. I let myself into room 1308 and started to work. I heard footsteps in the room directly above me. Not big heavy adult footsteps, but tiny taps almost like that of a child’s. I went to investigate making a mental note of the room number I was in as it would be mirrored on the next floor up. I hurried up the stairs to 1408 and opened the door to again find it completely empty and neat. Except this time I heard the footsteps behind me scurrying down the hall.
I darted out to see a little girl in a tattered white dress and a look of pure terror in her eyes. “Bl-blue man bad” were only words she stumbled out before darting down the turn in the hallway to the new wing of the building. I started off to see where she was going but when I turned, I was met face to face by Tim the MOD. He had a look of shock on his face and jumped as I did when we both met.
“Whoa what the hell man, where’s the fire?” He asked, half joking and half mad at what I thought was from being startled by me.
“Th-the girl. You didn’t see her?”
Tim laughed a little and shook his head at me. “Man, you need to go get some air. You, me, and the ceiling are the only things in this building right now. It’s okay though, you’re not the only one. When it gets quiet at night, the housekeepers say they’ve seen her and a little boy as well. Doesn’t make sense though for a haunting because thankfully no one has ever died on this premises in our 32 years of business.”
I looked behind Tim and sure enough there was no trace of anyone else. The building was dead quiet besides the sound of my startled breathing.
“Man, there’s something wrong with the building. It’s been more than just this. There’s been doors slamming for no reason and red stains on the granite countertops and-“ I was cut off abruptly by Tim, his voice slowly growing with a flush of annoyance.
“JUST. Go outside. Get some fresh air. OKAY?” He asked, putting a hand on my shoulder with what seemed like genuine concern. “The paint fumes and isolation are enough to make anyone see things.” Tim said faking a cough due to the fumes he was heavily exaggerating the smell of. I complied and went outside to take my lunch. The rest of the night, I contemplated what the girl said. Blue man bad? The only colors employees wore were red, orange, and yellow in hue. And there haven’t been any guests in the hotel in a week. Surely this girl hasn’t been hiding and surviving here since whoever had her before checked out on Sunday afternoon with the rest of the guests? Maybe I am just seeing things. I’ve been isolated for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week for 2 months after all.
That night as I was leaving, I was heading to my truck when I heard a large vehicle pull in the main drive of the hotel. It was the box truck that usually came around 5 AM to pick up the linen/ towels and take them to the off site laundry building. And sure enough the man in the truck got out and went inside to retrieve the usual wheeled bins we use to move the heavy bags full of dirty towels, bed sheets, and pillow cases.
Except as the man started to load the bins into the back of the truck, one of them started to shake. He immediately darted to that bin and pulled up one of the bags that was starting to move slowly. The man pulled a small black spray can from his belt and sprayed the bag, causing it to viciously struggle only to stop moving again. I was frozen in shock for a moment until the man started to turn back towards me. I ducked quickly behind my vehicle and stayed there until the truck left. At that moment, I knew that the girl wasn’t a ghost or a figment of my imagination. She was all too real. I almost threw up right in the parking lot when I realized what was going on and what horrible fate could be awaiting that innocent little girl. And at that moment I vowed to find a way to bring this place down from the inside.
I didn’t sleep at all that night. How could I? I just saw definitive proof that the company I work for is involved in at the very least, human trafficking. And possibly far worse. I spent the whole night wracking my brain on how I would get proof without exposing myself and probably getting myself killed in the process. If it came to it though, I was willing to pay the price for the life of an innocent child. However, if I’m dead before the proof can get to law enforcement then my efforts are in vain also.
So my first course of action was planned out as follows. The key ring I carry around daily for work has a key for almost every door on the property except one: a small closet sized room on the 8th floor of the main building. Now due to building regulations in this town setting a height limit for buildings as to not impede the “scenic views” of the mountain range and skyline in the distance, all buildings are required to be at max 7 stories tall for operating floors. But somehow, Sunset Springs was able to get away with one more floor that is not open to the public. The 8th floor is basically our attic but it’s fully fleshed out like the rest of the floors, minus the hideous paint scheme and guest rooms. It’s basically a long hallway filled with out of date furniture and advertising with a few closet-like rooms full of what they tell me is just “old paperwork”. Well I can never trust another thing told to me in that building so my natural first course of action is to find a way into that room.