I walked up to the entrance of the hotel. Hotel Kiiara it was called. It looked old. Probably built a long, long time ago I thought. The lobby looked old, too. Everywhere I looked, I could only see the color brown. An ugly one at it, too. I ran the bell.
Ding! Nobody came.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Still no answer. Not a second later, I heard glass shattering and breaking into tiny pieces. I twirled my head around. Not a piece of glass in sight. Must have been my imagination, I thought. I turned back to the counter and jumped. A woman stood there. She looked like she was around seventy years old: in other words, she looked ancient. Above her nose was a pair of big, round sunglasses. I could only see my reflection in her sunglasses. Sunglasses in a room? Not on a security man?
“Hello, I’d like to make a refund. I’m going to be staying at another hotel . . . so yeah.”
She didn’t speak, only stared straight ahead. After a while, she began to move her head side to side. “No refunds,” she said with a stern voice. She went to the basket of keys and picked up a set of keys with the number 34 attached. “Right this way.” She started heading up the stairs. I looked to my right.
“The elevator doesn’t work?” I asked.
“It does. But the last time someone used it, I never saw them again,” she replied. Surprised by her response, I quickly caught up to her pace; the room had been expensive, and I wasn’t going to waste money. Upstairs wasn’t much different from downstairs. More shades of nasty brown. Why does the internet lie? We went into the hallway and started looking for the room. As we passed by, there was a woman with short, bright red hair trying to wash a red stain out of a sheet. She looked up abruptly and made a little smirk. She winked at me before shutting her door. Why was it open in the first place? Did she feel that no one would look? Now that I think about it, where was everyone?
“Here we are. Room 34,” the old woman snapped, standing by a brown door. Dark stains covered the carpet in front of the door. I was regretting online ordering more and more.
I took the keys from her hand and opened the door. And of course, it was a room full of brown. I took two steps in and noticed more dark stains on the ground. The door slammed behind me, startling me. I took a big breath of air. Cough cough. Something smelled horrible. It was like a rotting smell. I shook it off. However, some of the smell was still in my nose. I sat down on the bed. Why was it so lumpy? I covered my nose. The smell was stronger there. I quickly stood up, taking off the bed sheets.
The bed was sewed shut with a type of grey wire. I opened all the drawers of the room, searching for something to cut it with. I paused for a moment. Should I really cut it? Sure why not. Something. Anything. A knife. Wait what? Who cares, there’s no one else here. I quickly picked it up and carefully split the wire in half.
Just as I finished cutting the last part of the wire, a hand popped up, trying to grab a hold of something, anything. Anything it could find. The covering of the bed fell to the side. There were 2 faces in the bed. One man. One woman. Correction, two bodies. Their faces burned off. The man tried to talk but couldn’t. He didn’t have a tongue. The woman couldn’t see. She didn’t have any eyes; they were ripped out of her eye sockets. Gore hid most of their bodies, but I could see the blistering skin, the infected areas around cuts. The smell of blood and rot was overwhelming. Then the lights started flickering. I heard a low chuckling in a room nearby.
I ran out of that room, screaming, not stopping even after I reached the exit; I was surprised no one stopped me. I reached my car and reversed out of the parking space. In five seconds, I was on the highway. The hotel was out of sight. The old woman grinning a toothless smile was out of sight. The knife I had touched was out of sight.
Choice of Song