|The Room at the Inn
Author: KalebNekumanesh PM
A version of one of Stephen King's horror novels/movies, 1408. I changed it up a little bit and added some things that have been happening in my own mind. I will hopefully be creating a short film about it soon.Rated: Fiction T - English - Suspense/Horror - Mike E. - Chapters: 2 - Words: 722 - Published: 03-13-12 - id: 7922237
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
- PRESENT DAY -
The alarm beeps. I open my eyes. No one is there. I am alone. I get up and get ready for work, my new work. I was fired, but that's okay. I found a new line of work that is more fun. I write non-fiction books based on supernatural and paranormal events. It helps me forget about what happened that day.
I just finished one of my books, 10 Most Haunted Restaurants, and to celebrate that and my new book, 10 Most Haunted Hotels, I am having a book signing party. I get up and leave for Barnes & Noble. I always liked Borders better, but you can't complain. Especially if they sponsor you for 2 years strait.
Two people showed up to the book signing party. Two women. Are my books that bad? One of them raise their hand. "Yes?" I ask.
"In your book, you say that you do not have faith in what you write about. What do you mean by that?" she asks.
"I don't understand…"
"So you're saying that you don't believe in ghosts?"
"Oh. No, that is not what I am saying. All I am saying is that I have never seen one before. It would be extraordinary to experience a paranormal or supernatural event with my own eyes."
The other lady raised her hand. "But the reason you started writing was to investigate the mysterious death of your wife, am I correct?"
I don't answer, I can't. I remember Haley. I remember how beautiful she was. I remember how nice, smart, and intuitive she was. I was surprised she even liked me back in high school. I was very lucky to meet her. We could have-.
I am snapped out of my gaze by one of the people at the 'party'. "Excuse me."
I look around, confused. I start to pack my things. "Thank you, everyone, for coming. Enjoy the book." I finish and leave. I walk outside to my mailbox and take out the mail. Bill. Bill. Bill. Postcard? I look at it. It is from the Dolphin Hotel in New York. I turn it over and all it says is, "Do Not Enter 1408."