~Random Shorts~

Only 1 Room Left

I stumble fowards, up Hotel  Yawhg's steps. I sway as I reach the top, my vision slipping in and out of focus. Maybe I shouldn't have gone out today. In this state, I might not even make it to the Airport tomorrow. Oh well. At least I won't run the risk of killing anyone. Pushing open the door, I head for the receptionist. There's a soft thud as her IPhone topples onto the table and she raises her head, her face a fixed smile. That was, until she noticed my drunken sway. Rolling her eyes, she returned to surfing the internet. I cough, clearing my throat before stuttering, "G-g-good evening, Ma'am. Any rooms I could take?" I slide my wallet onto the table, as she sighs. Her head snaps up to face me and she snaps. "No. There's only 14. Room 13 is haunted, it's a precaution as the previous vacancies have reported strange... Ongoings. Such as the sighting of the ghost." I can't help but laugh at her suggestion of it being haunted. It must just be her way of trying to get rid of drunks. I begin coughing, now having to fight to keep a mixture of flem and sick down. She curls her lip before leaning back and tossing the keys onto the table. "What do they say in bars? On the house?" I smile, before nodding her in thanks.

Allighning my eye with the eyehole, I peer into Room 13, curiosity now taking a firm grip over me. Sat in the middle of the room is... A girl. Long, black hair and white dress. Her skin milky, probably from the moonlight, it's rays reflecting of the few mirrors lining the walls and seemingly brightening with every time it bounces of the mirrors. This is just another fragment of my drunken mind, after the receptionist's 'warning'. I stagger left, into my room and collapse onto my bed, drifting to sleep almost immediatly.

The girls wailing crys worm their way into my dreams, bringing me to an abruptant wake. I roll over, the noise from my head reverberating through my head still. My head still groggy, I look across the room to find an alarm clock sitting opposite my, illuminating the darkness. A white digital alarm clock. I must still be hung-over... The 0:0 confirming the rise of midnight have become filled in red circles.  I knock my head back into my pillow and sleep, thinking nothing more of it.

Looking across the room, I notice the same receptionist as last night. Her ashen hair cascading over the desk, shadowing her face. I nudge her, dropping the keys onto the desk. Her sleepy eyes drift up to look at me. She yawns, "Nice sleep?" I nod before pausing to ask, "This 'ghost'... Which enhabits Room 13? What's it look like?" She leans closer, before whispering, "When I started working her, at the age of 18, I'm 20 now, by the way, I came into work and people proceeded to complain of... Arguments from a couple soon to be married. It was an Asian couple, the girl had black, waist length hair, a slender figure and oddly milky skin. It had some sort of ice tint... Err... I think it's called porcelain. She was wearing a knee-length white dress, quite typical her in this part of the English Country-Side. Anyway, she had a short temper. She stabbed her husband. But not before he could cry for help. The police were summoned and, before she was able to escape the room, they proceeded to fill her with lead. She died, the second they started firing. And yet the 9 officers felt nescessary to fire around... 6 Desert Eagle? Rounds into her. Off course, I'm no gun finatic, so can't tell you clip size or... Bullet size? Whatever. Since then, the ghost of hers has been seen in Rooms 13 & 14. Anyone to set foot in 13 barely comes out, blood seeping from knife wounds to the chest, where she struck her husband. She now crys, a Physic reportidly saying that she regretted the murder of her husband and felt the only way to punish her self was eternal isolation." I swallow, not sure if I'm ready for the answer, "And what 'bout those who go in Room 14?" She laughs, before retorting,  "They report seeing her ghost. The red eyes glaring at them in the darkness. Her crys in their slee-" She needn't go on. I turn on my heel, racing up the steps.

Without hesitation, I rest my eye on the eyehole. I should've stopped myself. Questioned the evidence of the situation... Or just laughed at it as I had previously. It doesn't leave me, what I saw... Pressed on the other side of the hole was a red glow, seemingly staring back at me.