Langley quickly headed up to the fourth floor of the hotel, walking past nosey guests who didn't bother hiding their display of open curiosity. When he passed the third floor, he realized his wrong assumption that the hotel itself was shorter than it really was. Three levels max, maybe. When he got to the fourth floor, he was surprised to see that the stairs went on for at least one more level.
The fourth level was a lot quieter than its preceding levels, the halls empty of eavesdroppers and rubber-neckers. Conflicting smells of dust and carpet cleaner invaded his senses but the eeriness of it all kept Langley on guard.
The door to 412 was slightly ajar. If Langley didn't know better, it would look nothing out of the ordinary. Probably a guest who mistakenly left it open or a housekeeper doing her duties. But even the gravity on this floor was heavier than when he stood at the front of the hotel.
Irrational fear swept his person as he attempted to gather the courage to enter the room. An image of the man who died of a heart attack in this same hotel those years ago made a surprise visit in his mind. Maybe a heart attack, too, would take Langley out before he could even see the crime scene. He had been a cop for over two decades and he raised two bratty daughters for Christ's sake!
Or the fear could be blamed to the ease of the job which had spoiled him with ignorant peace, or maybe it was the lackluster Lagro lifestyle which turned him into a soft cop who didn't know what to do in real cop situations. Before he decided on an answer for himself, he reached the center of the room.
And Langley was correct.
A new rotten smell drifted in room 412, completely (and unfortunately) overpowering the mucky scent which dominated the hotel's hallways. The dull wallpaper was defaced by streaks of vibrant red; an excess of blood slowly dripped from the head of the lamp which now hung unevenly on its body. The room was no longer a room. What once was a king bed had become indiscernible along with the bedside table and the forever-stained carpet. It had all become a single, kaleidoscopic aftermath of a brutal malignant evil which left three bodies exposing the bloodiest of its crevices.
It was, indeed, a crime scene.
Maybe dying of a heart attack was the merciful way of going out, after all.
YOU ARE READING
Night Auditor
Horror"Between 1936 and 2018, Lagro, a small Central Florida town 96 miles south of Orlando, would suffer up to 138 yearly casualties directly related to the deadly hurricanes that would sweep through half of the state. On November 30th, 2019, the offici...
