The Thirteenth Floor[ON HOLD]

Chapter Five

Jonathan fixed his collar on his shirt trying to make himself look the least bit presentable. If he was going to demand to use the history of the Hamilton's thirteenth floor for a news article. He had to look a little bit intimidating or maybe just a bit presentable. He could easily be kicked out of the hotel, maybe banned and he'd never get what he needed. So Jonathan marched to the elevator pushing the button to the main floor. He was excited yet anxious, his hands were shaking so bad he had to stuff them in his pants pocket. 

When he got to the first floor he jogged up to the front desk tapping it to get the older woman's attention, "Excuse me, may I talk to the manager or the owner of this," he paused looking around "this lovely hotel?" He said putting on his best act. She looks him up and down in annoyance. 

"He's in his office, down the hall, take a right and voilà." She says in fake cheeriness. Nodding Jonathan walks down the hallway to the managers office. His hands were getting clammy. What if he got kicked out of the hotel? If that happened he wouldn't be able to get the information he needed. Sighing Jonathan shakes off all the negative thoughts arriving at the cherry red door. He gives the door three firm knocks patting at his jean pockets. After a couple seconds the door swings open to a tired looking man. 

"May I help you young man?" The mans voice is rough. Kind of unsettling. 

"Yes, are you by any chance the manager?" Jonathan asks raising his eyebrows. 

"That I am. Do you need anything?" The manager asks leaning on the door frame. 

"In fact I do. May I come in and we can talk?" 

The manager scans his eyes up and down Jonathan's body skeptical. 

"Sure," The manager opens the door wider stepping to the side. Stepping in the office Jonathan immediately starts speaking "So I'm a writer for New York Times and I need a new story to write about," he pauses making sure the manager understood, the man nods his head signaling he understands. Jonathan continues, "And I want to write about your hotel, your infamous thirteenth floor. I know that you know what I am talking about. I need information and apparently no one else knows anything so I need your help." 

The man leans on his desk taping his fingers "What's your name?" 

"Jonathan." 

Taking a seat in his desk the man opens his mouth, but closes it again. Sighing he begins, "Well Jonathan, you're not the only one who has suspicions...I've been working here for twenty years. My names Daniel by the way, anyway, the first year I worked here I had a woman complain to me that there was a man, a thing watching her. I didn't understand, I nearly laughed actually. We weren't five star anymore but how could someone watch you if you lock the door? She said she didn't know. But every night a dark disoriented figure watched her, she said he stood in a corner in her room. I thought she was delusional. Until as the years passed on, people said the same thing, except it got even more descriptive and worse. The maids sometimes checked the bedrooms and saw dead bodies in the rooms. The bodies skin was burnt, eyes sunken into skulls, no trace of skin. It was so horrible, so so horrible." 

The manager stopped to take a deep breath. 

"It didn't make any sense. It was all on the same floor. The thirteenth floor. So we decided to completely wipe out the floor. Well not completely," by now Daniel was leaning over the desk, his eyes gone. As if he was in a completely different dimension. 

"The stairs to the floor is still there. But no one takes the stairs so we thought we didn't have any worries. People wondered about the missing button on the elevator. If all the rooms were filled except the thirteenth floor we had to tell people to leave. We've even tried exorcism. No one really knows what happened. Everyone wants to ignore it and pretend it never happened. But I've seen unspeakable things, unthinkable things. And I don't know what I should do. There's nothing you can do!" He raises his voice slamming his fist on the table "I know that...that thing is still here, it wants to get anything that steps in its path. Why don't we tear down the building? I don't know, I do not know. It's most likely because the owner of this demonic place wants money. Is money worth your life? This place will make you lose your sanity. Son, I advise you to get far away from here as you can, run and never turn back!" Daniel stands up pushing his chair back looking at Jonathan desperately. 

Nodding Jonathan hurries out the door. 

What was that? Jonathan thought walking hurriedly to the elevator. He didn't know what to do. Was what that man, Daniel said? For all Jonathan knew he could've been an alcoholic, or a drug addict. Yeah that seemed more reasonable. But then again, what about the rumors or the dreams Jonathan experienced? That couldn't all have been an coincidence. Pushing his floor number Jonathan rests his head against the metal wall in frustration. He felt like pulling his hair out. The main question that swam around his head was 'Is it really worth it?' He could get this one news story and never ever come back here again. But once again he would risk his life. He was way too young. He didn't even have a family and that's what he wanted. 

Before Jonathan could think about it any more the elevator dinged signaling he was at his floor. When he got in his room he fell on his bed, he chose he was going to go on with this. It was most likely a rumor and he will get a stupid news story. But it would be an attention grabber either way. Sitting up on the bed he looked at his desk. All of his supplies were littered out, note pads, pens and pencils, a camera, and his phone. He couldn't lose his career. 

Nodding to himself he grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. When he walked out the door he looked to his left to see a long stair case. It was completely dark, he wasn't even sure if anyone else was in this hotel besides himself. The thought made goose bumps form on his skin. Shaking off the feeling he carefully walks down the hallway to the steps. He looks down, it most likely was years and years since anyone has even gone near these stairs. Stop being a sissy! He yelled internally. 

After a lot of self talk Jonathan decides to take his first step. One following after the other, and again, and he starts feeling less scared. When he gets to the last step he stops. The atmosphere was still, cold, eerie, and still. Just when Jonathan was about to take his last step he hears an ear piercing scream.

_    _    _

Chapter written by Mikala Sidney (@LittleBlackStar99)