In the dark, I fumbled for my bag. I might not have had a flashlight, but I did have my video camera, which had a weak light on it. Besides, I can’t deny I wanted to film this, if only to prove that I wasn’t going insane. Finding it, I turned it on, casting a dim light over the room. Even with this light, the shadows still consumed the edges of my vision, making me jump at every perceived motion I caught in the corner of my eye. Shaking, I forced myself to focus on the camera.
Carefully, I stood up from the bed and walked toward where I thought the curtain was. The thin light from the camera only served to give a vague outline of the curtain and door, as though the darkness that had swallowed the room was even now working against the light from my camera. carefully I reached out and touched the curtain, pushing it closed all the way. Whatever was out there couldn’t look in now.
As I did, I heard a loud clicking sound next to me, like a latch turning in the door. Panicked, I whipped around to look at the door. Inexplicably, it had opened on its own. The latching sound I had heard, however, was the door getting caught by the extra security lock. I could see nothing through the crack, just more inky blackness outside.
I slammed the door shut again, double checking the locks and latches. Everything was in place. I breathed a sigh of relief- that’s when I heard it.
A sort of scuttling sound, coming from the back of my room. Somewhere in the direction of the bathroom. Cautiously, I moved slowly toward the noise, trying to keep my hands from shaking too badly. I knew whatever footage I got was going to be a mess of wobbly camera, but my videographer skills weren’t exactly my top priority at the moment. I approached the source of the noise, but found nothing there... except for another piece of paper, wedged partly behind a wall length mirror next to the closet.
I fumbled to open the folded up scrap, trying not to tear it in my haste. When I finally got it open, there were only two words:
“Turn around.”
I was not about to do anything of the sort. Trembling, I slowly looked up at the mirror, while pointing my camera behind me at the same time. To my horror, the light from the camera illuminated a faint silhouette of something behind me. All I could make out was a vague form, no taller than the height of the bed- and it was moving toward me.
I broke out of my paralysis and dove into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. Quietly sobbing, I leaned against the door and slowly slid down until I was sitting on the cracked tiles, the door firmly closed and locked behind me. Whatever it was scrabbled a bit at the bottom of the door. Then came the whisper:
“Let me in. I’m out here, in the dark. Let me in.”
“GO AWAY!” I screamed. The voice stopped abruptly. I shivered and let out the breath I had been holding in tightly. I still clung to my camera, unwilling to let go of the one thing that was keeping me tethered to reality.
I sat there until the rays of early sunlight began peeking under the door, and I knew it was safe. Carefully, I cracked open the door and peeked around. The coast was clear. In a rush, I grabbed all my luggage and raced out the door. The hotel manager looked at me kind of oddly, but I wasn’t going back in that room.
I spent the next hour waiting for the shuttle in the lobby.
