Students in Year 7 have been studying a range of non-fiction texts in their English lessons and were asked to write a piece on the theme of urban exploration. Cal chose to write about an abandoned hotel in Croatia entitled 'Hotel Belvedere'. Below is his gripping story.
'The sand was burning under the hot sun and sweat raced down my sunburned skin as I sprinted across the beach out to
my paddle board. I turned around, scanning the almost empty beach, double checking that my mom was still at the
overrated hotel.
The water got ice-cold the deeper I wandered into the crystal-clear sea, dragging my board along. My trunks wrapped
around my battered and bruised legs; my hair danced in the evening breeze, as if putting on a performance. I
clambered onto my board and sat cross-legged, taking a moment to let the salted air flow in and out of my lungs. My
board, which had previously belonged to my older brother, gently rock and settled over and over again, the water
flowing over the edges of my board. When I was sure about my choice, I started paddling towards a “small” island in
the distance.
There was a painful feeling flowing through my legs, as if I’d been electrocuted. My body was aching by the time I had
reached the shore of (what seemed to be) an abandoned island. The sun was shining on the restless ocean as birds
soaried in the azure sky. Sweat decorated my rosey red cheeks as I knelt on the shore; grains of sand dug into my
knees.
I let my eyes dart around, searching for any sort of security. Once I was convinced that there were no guards, I pulled
myself up onto the the barely standing dock, and I heaved my ‘ancient’ paddle board up with me. I secured it behind a
tree and started checking my bag for my trainers, which I had bought before I left the hotel. I put a face mask in my
pocket, in case there was any black mould, and put on my trainers , so if I ran into still water, I would be fine.
With my phone in hand, I started ascending the crumbling steps, trying to maintain my stamina. After I reached the
top, I was faced with a heap of fallen debris; my only way past it was shoving my stick-like body through all of it. I
squeezed myself into the holes, which were conveniently placed in the walls, to get to the main reception. Suddenly, I
felt something warm running down my leg. I peered down to see what had happened: my leg had got trapped in a
rotten floorboard, blood was painting my leg as if I was a canvas. The once mossy covered floorboards were now
stained red. Without any hesitation, I placed some dressing over my wound and began to bandage it, almost as bad
as a five-year-old would.
Limping along the lonely corridors, I finally had made it to my destination. An open planned room, overlooking the
crystal-clear ocean. The room was destroyed, walls left to crumble, furniture swiping away from what it used to be,
carpets torn and shredde. But the creative graffiti seemed to comfort it all, as if it was the icing on top. Clouds
overlapped each other, trees camouflaged the ash dusted hills, each ascent piecing the whole puzzle together. It
made sense now, why the wires were piercing out the walls, why the glass was shattered across the floor, why the
rooms were set up for guests. The hotel was burned down, and yet all its beauty remained frozen in time. The islands
story and history let to burn with the building. All forgotten.
My hand traced the rusted rails, hungry for answers. Why was this place burned? What happened to the island? How
long as it been since the fire? And yet, despite my curiosity, I knew that all my questions would end up with the same
fate as this once gushing with life hotel: lost and unanswered with reason.
After I got home to the hotel I was staying at, I saw my mom lounging on the couch. My mom asked about my
adventure. I could not speak sense, all I knew was that after seeing how peaceful a place could be after such a mess,
it had for some reason reminded me of myself. I hate thinking like that, but I couldn’t shake the thought of it. My mind
was racing, longing to go back.
It had only just hit me that my leg was still bleeding and that the wood was still inhabiting my wound. I sat down and
sighed. It was only thanks to the adrenaline that I didn’t feel the pain. I was too lazy to re bandage my leg, so I let the
warm summer air dry out the blood and left time to rebuild the skin over the open flesh.
I stayed up all night, researching the derelict hotel. Hours flew by, as if the concept of time were birds migrating
across the world, the thought of sleep faded out my mind. I needed answers. After six hours of deep research, and after
listening to two Spotify playlists, I found my answers. The luxury hotel only operated for six years in the late 20th century.
Ever since, it’s been left to crumble into the sea. When the hotel opened in 1985, it had over 200 rooms, a helipad and
its own private boat dock. The complex has remained abandoned scene the Croatian war of independence. The hotel
even housed refugees between 1991 and 1995. It’s hard to believe that this 5-star hotel was to disappear into the endless abyss of time.'
