The Storm subsided as Randall pulled back into the weathered parking lot of the Motel Rouge. The harmonica man was still standing in front of the lobby blowing away on his harmonica, staring into the dark abyss in front of him. Randall's Bronco came to a halt in front of the lobby entrance just barely crashing into the cinder block ahead. He got out of his car slamming it behind him, vibrating the beading water droplets off the door onto the ground.
"If you close your eyes everything will go away, just like your father said about the boogeyman," the harmonica man announced as Randall ran past him.
"Just shut up, I'm gonna find out everything you piece of shit, you just wait," Said Randall.
Randall anxiously entered the lobby and furiously started searching for answers — something to satisfy his thoughts to debunk what was happening to him. He searched every drawer behind the lobby desk as he yelled. "Darleen come and fucking get me!! Your real funny let me tell ya. You thought I was gonna let this all pass over. The only thing that remained in the lobby drawers, were receipts from guest that's stayed there 30 some odd years ago.
After destroying the lobby Randall snuck his way to the first room down the hall. "Come out, Come out, wherever you are Darlene, I'm gonna I'm gonna turn your life into a fucking nightmare..." Randall chanted in a psychopathic way.
Not a person In sight, but the noise of a static tube TV — playing The Price Is Right reruns— could be heard in the room ahead. "You could win a brand new car" The TV Chimed. Randall snuck further toward the door. The light from the tv changing colors leaked light out onto the hallway carpet through the crack under the door. He gently placed his ear against the door. There was no sound of movement, only the soft voice of Bob Barker.
"Darlene, Are you in there? ... Darlene I'm comin in."
After a few moments of monitoring the room for any sudden noises, Randall kicked the door in.
Flies lingered on the round —cookie cutter wood laminate— table, slowly picking apart the rotten remains of a hungry man TV dinner. Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes to be exact looked more like meatloaf with blue furry bacteria growing all over it. The Tv was louder than it seemed from the hallway, given the door wasn't very thick —The volume set to full and the heat was unbearable. The yellow smoke-stained walls and ceiling had more filth on them than they bargained for. The room smelt of feces and garbage. Soiled in the puke green love seat sat Darlene, dead, Bloated, and veiny from the heat. Her skin was discolored, pale purple. Foam seeped from her mouth, crawling with flies eagerly laying eggs — the perfect breeding ground for parasites. Randall noticed a camera mounted on the ceiling in the corner of the room capturing everything.
"Whoever's sick game this is, I'm gonna find you, you sick bastard," Randall yelled into the camera. "COME AND GET ME... I'll be in room 13 right where you want me."
"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR," Yelled Randall with his arms wide open before running out of the room and outside into the parking lot.
"Harmonica dude, I'm fuckin onto you man," Randall yells in the parking lot as he makes his way to room 13.
In front of his door lays the brass numbers 14. The outside door has the paint scratched off revealing the true room number — Room 13.
"Hilarious, I wasn't born yesterday, your deal when I find you,." Randall yelled echoing across the buildings and back to him. A bit confused he yelled again. "Hello." ... "Hello." It echoed back.
Randall ran into the room, slammed the door behind him, and locked it.
With his back against the door, he took his cellphone out of his pocket and pressed record on his voice memo app.
"Ok, maybe I'm not overreacting, a few people were there, then disappeared, a woman killed herself... then she's gone, a woman who gave birth in her room ran out bleeding turned into my ex-wife. I ended up back here at the motel... and it turns out no one is here. The motel attendant was fucking dead in the back room of the lobby and there was a camera in her room. The Harmonica man was gone after I got out of the lobby. What happened to him? I hope I'm hallucinating. But that camera? Maybe there watching me, I'm just recording this for evidence. Wait for a second if there's cameras in the other room, maybe there's cameras in here. They could be fucking watching me this whole time." Randall pressed stop on the recording and put the phone back into his pocket.
He started to look for cameras first by pulling each painting off the wall to see what was behind them, but behind each painting was nothing but a blank wall. He followed each telephone and internet cable ran along the baseboards of the walls and into little sockets which he ripped out of the wall. Still, nothing remained behind each hole. The vents for fresh air outtake were located along the baseboards on each wall, each got pulled out with nothing behind them. However, a pungent smell blew out of one of the vents, a quite familiar smell.
"Mr. Kane?, Housekeeping, is it safe to come in." A voice was heard outside the hallway door.
Knock...Knock...knock, the knocking got louder with each smash on the door from the fist of the person behind it.
Randall panicked and his stomach felt like it dropped as soon as he heard the first knock. "Who is it?... and what do you want?"
"House Keeping." The person behind the door said once again.
"I Said what do you want?"
Randall began to put everything back the way it was before he started pulling the room apart.
The knocking continued, this time it started louder, and the banging got blunter, shaking the walls a bit.
"House Keeping." The voice behind the door said in a cute tone.
"Okay, now you guys are just taking this too far," Randall yelled back.
"House Keeping."
"You guys are gonna regret this, I'm not playing around, when you mess with my life, I'll take yours from you."
Randall sneaks his way toward the bathroom and grabs the hatchet off the floor, trying not to make a creak.
"HOUSEKEEPING... HOUSEKEEPING... HOUSEKEEPING." The voice said with each smash on the door, her voice getting louder and louder.
Randall got closer to the hallway door and reached his hand to the doorknob. He gently twisted with his other hand healed in the air ready to smash down the hatchet.
"OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR RANDALL."
The voice said.
Randall whipped open the door and struck the hatchet down on the forehead of a woman with a botched face, holding a syringe ready to plunge into Randall's neck. She dropped down and the amount of thinned blood that poured from her head, you'd swear she was intoxicated.
"That's what you get for fucking with my life, you understand," Randall screamed so hard his face turned to beat red.
The notes of a playing harmonica trembled down the motel hallway and the laugh of a man with a smoker's cough faintly drifted from the distance.
"I didn't wanna have to do this." Yelled Randall before panicky walking down the hallway.
YOU ARE READING
Don't Sleep In Room 13
HorrorAuthor Randall Kane meets a beautiful woman while he's on his book tour, who directs him to stay at a seedy small town Motel, A place with a tormented past known for showing you your deepest and darkest insecurities. Don't fall asleep in room 13...
