The storm blasted louder than ever before. The rain seemed to have come down and puncture Cliff’s skin. He slammed the door, the thunder masking the sound of the slam, and headed for the
hotel. He ran inside, the water from the umbrella seeping down on his head. Closing the umbrella and juggling the luggage in his other hand, he approached the man at the counter, finally glad to be
out of the car, finally glad to be out of Wisconsin, finally glad to be out of the rain.
The man at the desk was a little bit chubby, and had short, gray hair. His big blue eyes found Cliff’s brown ones and he smiled. “Welcome,” he said in an English accent. “And who are you?”
“Cliff Gallen,” he replied, shaking the umbrella a little to get all of that water off. “I’m a little late signing in-sorry-but with all the rain and traffic and the fact that I came all the way
from Wisconsin for this meeting, I-”
“Ah, here you are,” the man said, cutting Cliff off. “Room 128.” He searched in a drawer under the desk, grunting and muttering that he’s too old for this. Cliff checked his nametag-“Rob”-and began
to wonder how old he was. 60? Maybe even 65?
Rob got up and slammed the key down on the desk between them with such force that it made Cliff jump. “Key to room 128, enjoy your day, sir.”
Cliff grasped the key firmly in his hand, the cold metal sending a shock through his nerves. Sliding it inside his pocket, he picked up the luggage he set down on the ground and began walking
toward the elevators.
“Wait, sir!” Cliff turned around. Rob came out from behind the desk, and was standing right behind Cliff, arm outstretched as if to grasp his shoulder, face a little red. Rob lowered his arm
slowly, and continued. “I have to warn you, though, before you leave. Don’t go into room 147. Do not even go near there.”
“Why?” asked Cliff, a little impatient. 5 days of clothes and toiletries aren’t light, you know.
“Just don’t, okay?” Rob’s eyes looked sincere and worried, and also a little bit sad. Cliff rolled his eyes and walked away.
The moonlight shown through the window, illuminating the bed Cliff lay in. The cold air bit at his skin, keeping him awake. That, and the fact that he was so stressed he couldn’t sleep.
He rolled over, pulling the comforter snug on top him. He had a meeting at 7 AM, and no way could he still be awake at-he checked the clock-12:03 AM. He did everything, counted backwards from 100,
took deep breaths, and even counted goddamn sheep, but nothing worked.
He got up and went to the bathroom, splashing some water on his face. Fine, he thought. If I can’t go to sleep, I’m not going to sleep at all.
He put on his slippers and grabbed a cigarette, taking a lighter and walking outside his room. He lit his cigarette and breathed in, the smoke going filling his also tired lungs. Sighing, he
smiled. He wasn’t able to smoke in a day, busy airports and planes. The smile faded when he looked around and saw a sign that boldly stated: NO SMOKING INSIDE THE HOTEL. He began to walk to the
He passed room 129 on the left, 130 on the right, 131 on the left, and so on, until he stopped in front of room 147. I wonder what’s in here that he didn’t want me to see, he thought.
Jiggling the doorknob, he wasn’t surprised the door was locked. Looking left, and right, he looked through the peephole. What he saw next surprised him the most.
Squinting, he saw a silhouette dancing. Looking closer, he saw that it was a girl-a young girl, maybe 18. She had hair down to the small of her back, which was colored a deep, rich dirty blonde,
and bouncing curls. She had only a big white short-sleeved shirt on, and her skin was a even tan. The furniture around her seemed out of place, though. It looked like it dated back to 1910. Not
that it had cobwebs on it, but he only saw that furniture in movies. There was a lamp on beside her on the table, illuminating what it could.
But that’s not what caught his eye. It was her dancing. The way she moved was hypnotic. He watched her dance not hearing the music that she danced to, but just watching her dance. He stayed right
there for what seemed like minutes, that turned into hours.
When he became aware of the time startled he rushed to back to his room confused. His day was haunted with the memory of the prior evening as he returned around 8 PM. He headed straight to his
room, took a shower, and went back to room 147. He watched her dance again-same moves, same shirt, same light, same everything. But he didn’t mind. He just watched her dance until 2 AM and decided
that being tired wasn’t a second day option. He didn’t like leaving her, but he knew that he had to get to work, and so he left.
He found himself rushing back to the hotel back to the room without music, back to her. Something was different. When he looked through the peephole, all he saw was red. He saw the furniture, but
with no light except for the red tint. Cliff took a step back and shook his head, rubbed his eyes, and tried looking again. Red. He looked around the room, wondering if he could spot her, but
nothing. Just red. He tried taking a step back and rubbing his eyes again. Red. He went back to his room.
The next morning when he checked out, he went straight up to Rob and asked, “What was in room 147 that you didn’t want me to see?”
Rob looked a taken back for a second, then it seemed to register in his eyes. “Nothing,” he mumbled, typing at his computer.
“No no no,” began Cliff. “Don’t tell me ‘nothing.’ What was in that room that you didn’t want me to see?”
Rob sighed. “All right, all right.” He looked into Cliff’s eye. “My daughter died in that room about 2 years ago. She was 18. It was a fire. I believe she has haunted that room ever since then.”
Cliff didn’t believe in ghosts. He didn’t believe in the paranormal. He thought whoever did hoped too much that their loved ones are still with them in a physical sense. He despised ‘ghost
hunters.’ But, still, Cliff’s heart beat faster. Was it her he saw? How did Rob know for sure that that’s his daughter? She surely didn’t seem ghostly. “Well, how do you know it is her haunting
that room?” he dared to ask.
“Because she has one red eye.”
© Copyright 2016 The Girl With Kaleidescope Eyes. All rights reserved.