Radio to the heart

The hotels, dark secrets 

The lobby was eerily quiet, save for the soft hum of electricity somewhere in the walls and the occasional flicker of the overhead light. Shadows danced on the marble floor, stretching and twisting with every pulse of the dim bulb. I pulled my coat tighter around me, the weight of the silence pressing down like a heavy fog. My boots echoed across the empty space as I cautiously approached the front desk. Something felt... wrong. I couldn't put my finger on it, but every nerve in my body screamed at me to be on guard.

My fingers brushed the bell on the counter, but I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to call attention to myself just yet. The unease crept through my spine like a cold draft, making me second-guess the smallest actions. Why does this place feel different tonight? I whispered to myself, scanning the lobby with sharp eyes. The cane in my hand was still folded, but I could feel its weight, ready to spring open if needed. The quiet didn't sit well with me. Not here. Not now. Something was off, and it gnawed at me, demanding investigation.

Taking a deep breath, I turned toward the elevator, the ancient lift at the far end of the hall barely visible in the dim lighting. Each step felt heavier than the last as I walked toward it, my footsteps echoing in the emptiness. I reached out and pressed the button for the top floor, the dingy metal panel tarnished from years of use. As the doors slid open with a creak, I stepped inside, the stale air wrapping around me like a shroud.

The elevator groaned as it started its slow ascent. The lights inside flickered, casting erratic shadows across the mirrored walls. I pressed the top floor button, watching as the numbers climbed, the ride slow and laborious, each second dragging. A sudden jolt sent me stumbling slightly as the elevator stopped between floors, the lights flickering off completely, plunging me into total darkness.

"Of course... it had to stop now," I muttered through clenched teeth. My breath came quicker, not from fear of the tight space—I wasn't claustrophobic—but from the sheer frustration of the timing. I reached for my phone, the cold surface slipping under my fingertips as I unlocked it, only to see the dreaded No Signal in the corner of the screen.

"Brilliant," I snapped, the sound of my voice louder than I intended in the oppressive silence. I slapped my arm against my side in irritation, trying to steady my nerves. The elevator swayed slightly, and I pressed my back against the wall, holding out my hand, half-jokingly attempting to will the thing to move like some kind of magic trick.

Nothing happened.

"Come on," I muttered, as if pleading with the broken machinery. I had dealt with worse, but tonight, I wasn't in the mood for surprises. The entire building felt off, and being stuck in a flickering, groaning elevator between floors wasn't exactly helping. The oppressive silence returned, save for the faint creak of the cables above, straining under the weight.

My senses sharpened in the dark, every little sound amplified. Something wasn't right about this place. Something was watching. I could feel it.

The doors to the elevator finally screeched open, revealing the long stretch of a dim, decaying hallway. A wave of musty air hit me, thick with the smell of mildew. The wallpaper, once likely ornate, now peeled in strips, clinging to the walls like withered skin. I hesitated, stepping out slowly, my boots sinking slightly into the threadbare carpet, and immediately regretted it. The air felt wrong—heavy, like it was clinging to my skin. I glanced around, my cane folded in one hand, ready if needed, while my other hand hovered near my side, steadying myself.

Then, a door at the far end of the hallway creaked open, just enough to let out a sliver of light. My heart skipped a beat, the silence amplifying the sound like an alarm. I swallowed hard, every instinct screaming for caution as I took a step forward. The flicker of light from the cracked door was faint, barely perceptible, but enough to draw me in.