The Moonlight Hotel

The doors slid shut again. The cold brass of the elevator shimmered, and my steps towards them were softened by the refined orange and red carpet of the 20th floor. A cleaning lady, about to enter room 20809 glanced up at me. Her black and white uniform hung slightly loose on her, and her back was bent at an acute angle over a cart of bleach, towels, and soap. She looked straight through me and did not make eye contact. For a while, she looked dazed and did not blink. Then, with a quick shake of her head, she lost interest in whatever she saw through me and continued into 20809. Its wooden door creaked softly and then came to a halt as it shielded the white cotton bed and gold-lined sink of the room away. I moved on. The Moonlight Hotel can only be described as grand, tall, and marbled. It stands over the rest of the city, isolated on a small green hill, and glares down on it like a tall white block of arrogance. Look at me! it says to the rest of the buildings. I am richer than you. I am taller. You are small.  You are worthless compared to me!  Then again, I can’t tell if it’s the hotel itself speaking, or the people who stay there. Maybe it’s both. 

I had never stayed at The Moonlight Hotel before, up until when I received an invitation to go to a conference here. I was immensely surprised. As a business person, conferences are quite frequent, and there is traveling, but the hotels are usually mundane. I was curious about this particular hotel; there was something about staying at the most top rated hotel in all of the west side of the world, where the high class people come to bury blackmails, murders, affairs, and other dirty secrets that intrigued me.

My feet trudged on as my thoughts whirled around me. So far my time at the hotel had been nothing too special, just walking around and thinking of the new budget that I have to propose during the conference. Once in a while, I would notice something small that sparked my interest, like a suspicious elderly woman snaking around the lobby, her bright yellow eyes darting from the exit to the receptionist and a cold sweat forming on her brow…or a young man sitting at a table by himself, looking as if he had just seen a murder. Or committed one. But those interests would soon be competing for a spot in my mind with my day-to-day anxieties, and then lose to the worries and be swallowed up. I walked up to the elevator, crunching numbers in my head and feeling absorbed and absent. The doors slid open. My brand-new shiny black shoes were not softened anymore by the carpet, but instead clanged on the golden floor of the elevator, a worm’s-eye reflection of me warped by the metal. Inside with me was a mother holding a grocery bag and two small children, one looking to be 5 or 6, the other 3, a large man with a fluffy mustache and a squat blue hat, a very small older woman whose shriveled up face was contorted in a disgusted glance, and a teenage boy, about 14, who sat in the corner with bulky white headphones over his ears. Floor 20. Going Down. I looked at the selection of buttons. I tried to reach for the button that led to floor 13, but the small 5 year old came up to the buttons before I could reach them, pushed aside my hand, and tried to press one…

…then as my hand glided over button 13, his hand hit mine and I accidentally pressed on button 17. I was about to retry to press button 13, when the mother started apologizing. I didn’t want to make her feel bad for something so small so I tried to reassure her that it was alright. She nodded and turned back to her children, one of which was now crying. I turned back to the selection of floors. Floor 19. Going Down. The doors slid open again. I reached for button 13, but the large man in the squat blue hat stood up and tapped on my shoulder. He asked me to move aside, as he was late to a meeting. Oddly, he stuttered on the word 19, and almost said 17, then caught himself. I moved aside for this strange man and he shuffled out of the elevator. The doors slid shut. Floor 18. Going Down. I squirmed quietly, leaning gently against one of the doors of the elevator. Floor 17. Going Down. The doors slid open. The mother of the young children rushed to get her and her children (one of which was still crying) out of the elevator, and quickly asked if I could hold the grocery bag for her, since (at least she thought) we were both getting off on floor 17. I hesitated for a moment. Floor 17 was not my floor, 13 was, and I would be late for my conference if I went with her. Her other child began to tantrum, and she looked pleadingly at me, begging for just a small favor. I sighed. I picked up her grocery bag, and we both walked out of the elevator, leaving the boy sitting in the corner alone. My footsteps were once again padded by a carpet, this time a blue and gray one with hexagons on it. We stopped at room 17014. She thanked me, made sure her five year old didn’t wander off and her three year old was still holding her hand, grabbed her room card, swiped it through a silver slot, and walked in. I turned away. I started back down the hallway, towards the thick brass doors of the elevator, which was about 500 feet away. My shiny black shoes led me further, further, my mind still a whirlpool of calculations. Suddenly, the fog of my absent mind cleared. I heard something faintly behind me. 

At first, it was just a little ring in my ear, just a little pest. Then, the noise became louder. I realized that as my shoes carried me down the hall, the little noise grew, and became not just a small pest but something larger, louder gripping onto my ear. Then, as I was just about 100 feet from the elevator, the noise completely overtook my hearing, like a wounded animal wailing right next to me. My arms shot up to my head to allow my hands to cover my ears. I whirled around, searching for the cause of this horrible, incessant scream. To my right was room 17094. A strange shiver skidded down my spine, electrifying my body into a reflexive jolt. The screeching continued. I knocked on the door, realizing that it was a woman’s voice that was causing this blood-curdling howl. The screaming stopped for a moment, then continued on, growing weaker. I pressed by ear against the door, my pulse quickening to an alarming rate. I couldn’t make out much, just a couple insignificant words in between the screaming, but nothing more. My hand bolted to the door, and tried to push it open. To my surprise, it was unlocked, and opened with ease. I burst in, and the door slammed behind me. 

The scream had dissolved into an almost whisper now. I looked around frantically for the woman. This was no ordinary room, though, and from the moment I laid eyes on it I could tell that this suite must have cost much more than both my and one of my coworkers' lifetime's salaries, combined. This room was at least 4 times larger than the regular rooms and was split up into three sections: A bedroom, a kitchen, and a living room. The bedroom was extraordinary, with a giant window taking up a whole wall - showing the incredible view of the nearby bay, two nightstands, a chandelier, two different televisions, and a ginormous cotton bed. The wailing woman was not in this room.The kitchen had dark marble countertops, lining the whole room. There were three sinks in total, still leaving plenty of room for the double fridge, display of top-notch knives, and a bar to the left - stocked with the most preciously aged whisky and golden-tinted beer. Still, she was nowhere to be found. My breath quickened as my eyes darted around the living room. It had three couches, a large coffee table, a small aquarium full of vibrant fish, and two wooden bookcases on either side of the room. 

There, laying on the floor next to the left bookcase, was the woman. My body froze and my feet would not move, as if cemented to the floor. She wore a tight-fitting pale yellow dress, and her dirty-blonde hair was styled in a 60’s era hairdo in the way that it swooped and curled. And there, piercing her perfect yellow dress in the middle of her chest, was a pool of blood seeping through. I rushed over to her, putting my hands on her chest to try and stop the bleeding. I looked over to the right side of her. There, laying directly next to her, was a bloodied kitchen knife. I picked it up. My eyes grew wide and started to shake, realizing the enormity of this situation. 

KNOCK. KNOCK. “Hello?”

I whipped my head around as a man walked into the room.

“Darling? Are you there?”

I made eye contact with the man. I started to try and tell him that it wasn’t what it looked like - I had stumbled upon her and was trying to help. It was no use. The moment we locked eyes he fumbled with his phone and dialed 911. All I remember next was racing out of the room, trying to find an exit. There was no reason left, no time to think. It was fight or flight, and flew down the hallway as fast as my shiny black shoes would take me. The doors to the elevator slid open. Floor 17. Going Down. The doors slid shut. I pressed on the lobby button, a smear of metallic-smelling red now pasted on it. The doors slid open. I ran out of the lobby, my hands stained a deep velvet color and flailing behind me. I was greeted outside not by freedom, like I’d hoped, but by flashing red and blue lights. I hung my head, and for the first time in years, tears streamed down my face. I knew they thought it was me. I knew there would be no convincing them otherwise.

ENDING #1

The doors slid open. My brand-new shiny black shoes were not softened anymore by the carpet, but instead clanged on the golden floor of the elevator, a worm’s-eye reflection of me warped by the metal. Inside with me was a mother holding a grocery bag and two small children, one looking to be 5 or 6, the other 3, a large man with a fluffy mustache and a squat blue hat, a very small older woman whose shriveled up face was contorted in a disgusted glance, and a teenage boy, about 14, who sat in the corner with bulky white headphones over his ears. Floor 20. Going Down. I looked at the selection of buttons. I tried to reach for the button that led to floor 13, but the small 5 year old came up to the buttons before I could reach them, pushed aside my hand, and tried to press one…

…but then his mother grabbed his hand just in time, or else my hand would have accidentally pressed another button. She scolded the young boy, who then cried, and apologized before turning back to her tantruming son. On floor 17, the door slid open, and the large man in the blue squat blue hat stood up and tapped on my shoulder. He asked me to move aside, as he was late to a meeting. Oddly, he stuttered on the word 19, and almost said 17, then caught himself. I moved aside for this strange man and he shuffled out of the elevator.The woman with her children stepped out as well, but her hands were full and she could not carry her grocery bag. I was about to offer to help when the doors started closing, so she had to push one of her kids out, hold the other, and grab her bag with one finger. The doors slid fully shut. The teenager got out not long after, on floor 14. I got off on the 13th, just in time for my conference. The conference was a complete waste of my time. I brought up the budget, people voted, and it was passed. Did I really have to travel to this stuffy hotel to do this? I had lunch at the hotel before leaving. The suspicious old woman was no longer there, but instead a man, shaking from top to bottom, sat at an empty table. His eyes were so wide I was worried they would pop out. In his hand he held a phone.

I ate quickly, eyeing the man, and took the elevator to my room. I packed everything up and checked out. My shiny black shoes carried me back to the elevator. The doors slid open. Floor 20. Going Down. Inside, standing sort of sideways and panting was the large man in the squat blue hat. The doors slid shut behind me. His eyes were frantically darting around. I tried to ask what the matter was, but he briskly told me his meeting didn’t go well. I got the feeling he was not in the mood for conversation, so I stayed silent until I reached the lobby. Ground Floor. Going Up. We both got off, and he rushed outside. My shiny black shoes carried me out. 

After a long plane ride back home, I pondered about the popularity of The Moonlight Hotel. I couldn’t understand why so many people were obsessed with paying so much to be there. Sure, the rooms were nice, and sure the hotel was fancy and expensive, but my stay there had overall been a mundane one. And the people there were rather intense. I parked in my driveway. My feet sagged as I stepped on to my doormat. It had a tattered Hello, Welcome! on it. My shoes stepped on something folded. I looked underneath them. It was a newspaper from today. I picked it up. Woman Murdered At The Moonlight Hotel, it read. The main suspect pictured above. My eyes bulged out of my head in surprise, as I looked at the face of the large man in the squat blue hat that had been in the elevator with me just hours before.

ENDING #2