Suspense Stories

Seeing Red-Conclusion

     The young executive was determined to figure out the secret of Byers Hotel. As he sipped his hazelnut coffee with a newspaper that Saturday morning, he hatched a plan. His planned business appointment had been rescheduled for the following Monday, so he was completely focused on solving this mystery. He glanced over the top of the large newspaper he was pretending to read, and subtly cased the joint, which was the small but cozy cafe stationed on the ground floor of the building. Nobody in sight. He could see the lobby through the open door, William was nowhere to be seen, and the receptionist was snoozing at her computer. The businessman relinquished himself from the maroon plush chair and stealthily made his way into the posh lobby, toward the strange black door that bore the unlucky number 13. Finally, he was directly in front of it, and wasting no more time, stuck his face in the large keyhole. He jerked back, a flash of blinding white light had painfully stabbed his iris. Tentatively leaning forward again, he blinked and allowed his eye to grow accustomed to this unwelcome new light.
    White.
     And more white.
      Everything was white. The floor was white. The ceiling was white. The walls were white. The windows were white, intensely concentrating the outside sunlight into the room. The bed was white. The sheets were white. The woman was white. The pillows were white. The curtains were--
      Wait.
       Woman?
       Switching to his left eye, he peered inside again. A snow white woman sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from the door. The skin on the the backs of her arms was ghostly white, her long, curly hair the same shade. She wore a white nightdress that came down low on her back. She didn't move. Unable to bear the stunning brightness any longer, the man turned away, blinking the dark shadows out of his vision. Quickly, he walked back to the cafe and his newspaper, to ponder over what he had seen.
     
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        Later that day, as the grandfather clock chimed six in the evening, the executive quietly descended the stairs to the the lobby from his bedroom. He had been in his room all day, refusing luncheon and dinner, his genius mind stretching to solve the conundrum that was the ghost lady. Due to the extremely bright light, his vision was still swarming with dark spots. He angrily tried to blink them away. He had decided to return to the door for another look, to see if anything had changed. A swift glance around the floor revealed that William and the receptionist were still nowhere to be found.
    What are those people doing during the day? I thought they worked here,
the man thought to himself, scoffing. He would never neglect his duties like this. He all but sprinted to the mysterious door, anxious to peek into its depths once more. He shoved his eye into the keyhole once more. To his dismay, there was nothing. Only a distinct scarlet shade of red, unmoving, like the boring smartphone backgrounds you see on the display models. Dismayed, he retreated, and turned around. He yelled and jumped backwards. The receptionist was standing not five inches from his face, wearing the same expressionless stare as she had the night before. The man didn't try to hide his misdeed. He rubbed his eyes.
        " Please, I just want to know what this is all about!" He pleaded with the rigid woman. She sighed and spoke in a defeated voice.
      " Well, you have obviously seen too much, and I can't refuse, or risk involvement of the authorities." Pulling him behind her desk, she leaned forward to whisper to him in a low voice.
     "You must promise me, what I am about to tell you will reach no other ears but your own." The man, stunned into muteness, nodded his head. The woman took a deep breath, and began to speak.
     "This is what happened. Our very first customers arrived 24 years ago, when the old rendition of this hotel was newly built. They were a young married couple, the man very handsome and successful, the woman a beautiful and kind soul. This hotel was the first stop on their honeymoon, and the two showed up in wedding clothes. They inquired for a room that night, and I gave them room 13. That night, the groom murdered his bride by means of strangulation, and made off with her dowry and sizeable inheritance. He was caught by police not two weeks after the crime. Sent off to prison, he rots there to this day.  Soon after, the hotel was remodeled,  updating all technology and renovating all the rooms except for this one, out of respect. There was a slight problem, however. The poor girl stayed behind, or rather, her spirit did."
     As his eyes stubbornly watered against his wishes, the entrepreneur listened, enraptured.
     "Her gloomy and dismal presence turned the room to gray, then white. Everyone who looked in the room felt pain behind their eyes, hence the guard we have placed around the door. Except, I really don't know what has gotten into William! He hasn't shown up for work all day....anyway, everything the woman touched turned white. Except...."
          " What?!" The man practically shrieked, rubbing his eyes still. The receptionist took a breath.
"Her eyes were blood red."
      The man stopped rubbing his eyes as his heart stopped in his chest. He slowly turned to look at the door, and could feel the scarlet gaze boring into his mind. He absentmindedly blinked a few times.
"Well? What happens then?"
   He fearfully asked the receptionist. As his vision grew darker still, the receptionist let out a harsh, sarcastic chuckle. She turned her blank, glassy gaze toward a section of the wall next to the mans head.

"What do you think happened to me?"