NO RESERVATIONS NEEDED AT THE DROPDEAD HOTEL...a short story by R.L.Huffstutter
YES, IT HAS BEEN AGES SINCE I STAYED HERE. I KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING WRONG WHEN I COULDN'T WAKE THE DESK CLERK. SEVERAL OF THE OLD GENTLEMEN IN THE LOBBY TOLD ME TO SIMPLY LEAVE MY MONEY ON THE DESK, THAT CLARENCE WAS IN A COMA OR "SOMETHING." SOMEWHAT INEBRIATED, I THOUGHT NO MORE ABOUT IT, LEFT A FIVE DOLLAR BILL AND HEADED TOWARD THE ELEVATOR. "AIN'T WORKED SINCE MR. WILLARD FELL DOWN THE SHAFT," A LOBBY GUEST WHISPERED. ONCE I REACHED MY ROOM, 420, I NOTICED THE DOOR WAS SLIGHTLY AJAR. THERE WAS A STRANGE AND SOMEWHAT UNIQUE AROMA THAT DRIFTED THROUGHOUT THE HALLWAY. I HEARD VOICES INSIDE THE ROOM AND PEERED INSIDE. NOT A SOUL, NARY THE SIGHT OF A LIVE BODY, OR A DEAD BODY, WAS VISIBLE. INVISIBLE? I WOULD NOT KNOW THE ANSWER TO THAT QUESTION UNTIL AROUND MIDNIGHT WHEN I HEARD THE FOOTFALLS IN THE HALLWAY.
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Hotels are always spooky.
ReplyDeleteLike I am always thinking how many different people have made this place 'home' for a night and what emotions and ghosts are left behind.
RIGHT YOU ARE............THANKS FOR COMMENT. ROB
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