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Short Stories Horror The Key Hole
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The Key Hole |
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| Written by Robert Quintin Penn | |
| Tuesday, 24 July 2007 | |
| Last Updated ( Saturday, 28 July 2007 ) |
John entered the small bed and breakfast in the middle of a rain storm. It was very dark, and his headlights showed the invisible rain water as it shot like thousands of machine gun rounds into the road. His trench coat was buttoned only at one point, just to keep his suit dry. He walked in.
An elderly gentleman, likely in his 70's, stood behind a small counter. He looked up, the light reflecting in his large glasses. “Hello sir,” he seemed to cough out, “it's a terrible night to be traveling. You're lucky; the hotel is completely empty.” “I'd like the room at the end of the third floor.” The old man seemed to jump. “You must have heard of it's history.” John nodded.
“Fine.” he turned to the rack behind him and lifted a key off of a hook. “There's a diner down the street if you want breakfast tomorrow. I know this is a bed and breakfast, but I've been having a few problems with the stove, and my son is out of town for the next two days.” The old man sounded slightly nervous over something. “Good night, sir.”
John stepped up the staircase, counting the steps as he went. '8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13...' he thought. Then he turned the corner to the next staircase. There were 13 steps on this one, too. He still climbed slowly, as he reached the third and final staircase. “Thirteen...” He walked down to the final door and entered.
The room was dimmer than he had thought, even with the lights on. He set down his suitcase and put his soaking wet trench coat in the small closet. The bedside clock read ten. John threw his shoes off, pulled back the sheets, and slid into the bed. It felt very weird to him. It was of course a cliché to wonder what bodily fluids have been spilled on this bed. 'Hell, there might even be a body under the mattress!' He chuckled at that thought.
He was deep in his sleep when he heard a knocking sound. He looked up at the night stand's clock. It was three. He got out of bed and went to the door. No one was there. Then he heard the sound again, coming from behind him. There was a door in the corner of the room that he hadn't noticed before. He went up to it, and tried the door knob. It was locked. John then noticed a small key hole. He ducked and looked with this right eye. There was plenty of light to see what was on the other side. 'Where's the light coming from?' Then a woman in her 30's appeared. She had on a dress that looked like half a century old, short, light brown hair, and red lipstick. The woman had a friendly smile on her face, and she stood in front of a stove, cooking something in a pan. Then an arm came down and stuck a knife in her neck. Her hands flew up and she dropped dead in a pool of blood. John closed his eyes, rubbed them, and looked back through the key hole. All that stood there was an old dresser, and the body was no where to be seen...
The next morning John went down to see the old man. He related the story to him. “...and then there was nothing.” John's voice crackled slightly, out as a chill ran down his spine. “Margie? You saw Margie?” John sat quietly. “YOU SAW MARGIE?!” The old man looked like he might pop a blood vessel from how tense he was. “Who's she? Your wife?” John managed to say. “Yes. She was murdered here in 1956.” “It doesn't make sense how I was able to witness her murder...” With that, John left for breakfast.
It was three in the morning again, and with that, a knocking made its presence. Down to the key hole yet again. A frozen corpse sat upright on the floor, against the dresser. The jaw wide open, the eyes sockets empty. But the dress was still on her. Then flesh started trickling back onto the bones. The corpse started becoming younger, fresher. It stood up. She came to life again.
Margie stepped closer, and closer towards the key hole. Then John saw nothing but the dress' white polka dots on the blue fabric. Then her face dropped down and melted off the bones. She screamed out a blood curdling cry. John fell away and let out a yell.
“I'm telling you, I saw it!” John said to the old man. “What happened here, fifty years ago?” The old man sighed. “We had a man named Norman come in here back in '56. He had lost his mother along with his relatives. He was in the room you were in. One day he went mad, and stabbed Margie in the neck. Then he put her in the attic. Norman went back to his room for the rest of the day. The next morning, Norman was found in a rocking chair with his neck sliced open and dried blood on his lap.”
At three in the morning, John was sitting in the rocking chair, wide awake. The knocking began. He went down on one knee and looked. Just a dresser. Suddenly, it opened and a man (who he believed to be Norman) fell out, blood running down his front. The doors closed, and there stood Margie. She had an evil smile upon her red lips. Her high heels clicked as she stepped over the body, towards the door. John looked away and turned back. It was dark. Then something bright red filled the entire key hole. John was knocked back as the door opened.
“Yes officer, he was the only one in the hotel.” The old man said. “Only one other man had anything serious happen to them in that room.” The officer scribbled something on his notepad. “You said he was murmuring about a woman named Margie and his vision filled with red. What does he mean?” The old man sighed. “My wife's name was Margie, she died back in 1956, but that should already be archived back at your head quarters. Oh, she had these eyes that were scarlet red...”
Comments (5) |
 07-29-2007 09:44, It was a little difficult to follow the story. Sometimes it was hard to see who was talking (John or the old man?) But in overall, it was pretty good horror story. It made me wonder the background of John and why he wanted to stay in that particular room. » Reply to this comment... 07-29-2007 20:48, Yeah... the storyline was pretty interesting, but not so descriptive. » Reply to this comment... 08-09-2007 06:42, I have little doubt that you have potential as a writer after reviewing this work. I enjoyed several of your comparisons and descriptions, and I like your title a lot. As for the stuff I didn't like, first of all it was too short - only about a grand in my word count. Use your imagination and triple that number at least. I know it's a short story, but you shoot out the information about the history of the room too fast. And it is kind of tough to follow, the other comments were right about that. Read it over again several times and comb through it with as much of a first time readers perspective as you can. Maybe put the story away for a week or two and look at it with fresh eyes. My main advice is to work with the theme and make it more interesting because the bad/evil/mysterious hotel bit has been used many times. Personally I would make the main character special in some way, perhaps in his abilities or profession. You could do anything with it of course. Maybe he's an investigative priest sent from the Vatican who knows. Good luck and keep at it. » Reply to this comment...  08-28-2007 20:38, I enjoyed and will read more. » Reply to this comment...  01-04-2008 19:57, i thot it was easy to tell who was saying what.......cool story man » Reply to this comment... |
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