One cold and rainy night in Michigan, a mans car broke down, just in front of a hotel. He was on his way to see his mother and father, but in these conditions it would be best to hold off until morning. he walked out and ran to the hotel, phone and wallet in hand. he walked in and caught his breath, where a frightened receptionist greeted him. "welcome sir, although it's dreadful outside, you should head back to your car and be going." he said, voice trembling. "what? are you kidding me? no way in hell am i going back out there. give me a room, i don't care how much it is." he said, slamming his wet wallet onto the granite counter. the boy shook his head. "no, we have no rooms. we are closed." he said, louder. the man laughed and grabbed his wallet. "300 dollars and you guys reopen" he mumbled. the boy sighed and gave up. "fine, sir." he said, grabbing a key and handing it to him. "room 4, down the 9th hall and to the left. no payment needed." the man froze. "no payment needed? what kind of place is this?" he yelled. "sir, pay in the morning then. the machines are down" the boy said. the man shook his head and walked upstairs for a while. he found room 4 and used the key to unlock the door. he walked inside and turned the light switch on. it was a beautiful room with the fresh scent of roses. antique glass figurines lined the shelves, and the fireplace was left on. small puffs of smoke lifted from the flames. the man smiled, and reclined on the couch in front of the fireplace. he drifted off to sleep. about 2 hours later, a phone ring woke him up. he turned to the small table beside him and picked up the phone. "hello?" he said, almost whispering. "hello, sir. this is room service. how is it up there?" a very polite and fragile voice said. "it's well, a bit cold though." he smiled. "i'm sorry to hear that, let me warm it up for you" the voice said, sounding apologetic. he heard three clicks, and a soft warm breeze entered the room. "let me know if you need anything, sir!" she said, hanging up. the man set the phone down and fell back asleep. he gasped and sat up, just a minute later. red roaring flames surrounded him. he looked around and stood up onto the couch. he scrambled to grab the phone, almost dropping it. it buzzed and then someone picked up. "sir?" she asked. "there's a goddamn fire in here. i-i can't get out. the doors blocked, the curtains are blazing, the couch is next, and i'm on it" he hurried to push the words out. sir, your breaking up. hello?" the voice sounded worried. " I CAN'T BREATH IN THIS SMOKE FILLED ROOM. HELP ME" he screamed into the phone. just then, the couch began melting. he could feel it sinking into the floor. "FUCKING HELP ME" he yelled. the phone in his hand started to melt as well. he fell to the floor of the room. slowly, he opened his eyes to see that there were no flames around him. he was on the persian rug in front of the couch. he sat up and looked all around. nothing was scorched. he picked up the phone. "hello? can i please check out." he said, not even thinking twice. something was off about this room. "sir? yes- yes of course you can" she said, quickly. "you just-" the call cut out. "hello?" he asked. "you can just use our express check out." she stated, calmly. "ok.. how?" he mumbled. a rattling noise drew his attention to a dangling noose in front of him. "do you wish to check out?" she said, not even forming it into a question. he heard the window slide open. he looked out, to see the great distance between him and the streets. "there are two ways out, sir." he walked towards the door. "no. now you've done it. i don't know how you made that noise pop up, or what the hell this is but i'm done. he turned the doorknob, but it fell off. there was no whole where it was, as if it were a fake lockable doorknob. he slammed his fist against the door and kicked it, but it felt like it was made out of steel. he ran to the window and screamed for help, but he was too far away. he ran around the room, searching for vents, exits, closets, anything. it was insane. he ran to the phone and demanded that she let him out. she gave no response. he threw the phone and watched it break against the wall. he yelled and threw things. he hit the walls and ripped pillows apart. he finally gave in and thought he could land on something, so he jumped. as he did so, a little giggled could be heard from the dismantled phone. the next morning, the receptionist opened the door, looking around. there was the man, asleep on the couch. "sir, i hate to intrude but.. you've gotta go" he said. the man sat up. "what? no.. i've killed myself. no more. no more room. no more walls. no more room. no more room." he repeated over and over again. the boy sighed and looked across the hall and the maid. "it's happened again."
