Room 19

Room 19

Written by:
Nicholas Thomson AKA MinionZombie "King of the Undead"
2001

To many of the residents of the picturesque town of Sanctuary Bay, the Grand Oak Hotel, which stood on the highest hill in the area, was just an average family business. Quiet and well respected it was as the few passers by who rocketed through the town paid a visit to the hotel, stopping off for one night's rest before disappearing off again into the hustle and bustle of the world. However, this seemingly small and humble lodging house incarcerated a deadly secret. Unknown to the townsfolk, but suspicious to some, the hotel had been the centre of the most horrific and grizzly murders ever in the small, peaceful bay area. Ever since its downbeat opening in the summer of 1919, the quaint building stood as a testament of something never experienced before, something sinister lurking in the background of the town, something evil. The slightly sceptical residents of the bay area often took the murderous rumours, which subsequently circulated about the hotel, with a pinch of salt. But for some, the stories, which arose from misguided events and shocking, suggestive articles in the local paper, created an uneven force in the white-bread mountain town. Something which should never be uttered in conversation, something akin to a grim fairytale.

Summer 1919:

The new hotel on Hawk's Peak, the highest point in the bay area had just finished being built. The paint was just dry and the windows were open, curtains jostling gently as the soft summer breeze whisped slowly about the building's foundations while the smell of freshly cut grass circulated its aroma across the hilltop, crawling across the white gravel driveway. The brown wooden panelled walls of the building were cut short by a surrounding bow of stones, clean and lit by the garishly bright light of the summer sun.
The hotel was due to open in two weeks and final preparations were being made to the interior. The dark wooden floors were freshly polished, the wall paper a field of flowers and freshly hung. The paint smell still fresh in the building was being swept away by the soft, cool breeze, which passed through the open entrance, dashing slowly up the grand oak staircase, the carpet of which was just pinned down the day before. The rooms were clean, the beds made, the linen new and crisp, the hotel was nearly ready to be opened.
A couple, Mr and Mrs Henning owned the new hotel. Mr Henning had spent his life savings on its construction, it was his dream coming true, his blood, sweat and tears were in the walls, his soul was sunk into the building. But recently be-known to him, however, was his run in with the IRS. Unfortunately for Mr Henning, his savings were used up and his loan needed to be paid. He had applied for a further loan from the bank but nothing had come about, Mr Henning's dreams lay in prospective ruin. Un-be-known to Mrs Henning, her husband was on the verge of nervous breakdown, and he was contemplating suicide. So, Mrs Henning, one month pregnant, continued about her daily chores in preparation for the hotel's opening.
The eastside of the hotel was where Mr Henning's pride and joy lay, room 19, the very last room in the building. As it was the only room in the entire hotel that was fully facing the lake about half a mile away from them, and the fact that the room was constantly lit, Mr Henning took it upon himself to make this room something special. Many a night had he been spending in there, decorating it meticulously, carefully detailing every aspect of the room. It was his pride and joy, the place where he went when in need of some peace and quiet, and to be alone. And this is the exact reason that one day, when the sun was shining so brightly, room 19 was brilliantly lit all over and where the grass of the fields and hills surrounding them gently swayed with the soft, cool summer breeze, Mr Henning stepped over to his wife and gave her a kiss on the cheek. He then proceeded to walk back into the hotel and slowly ascend up the grand oak staircase. As he did so he stroked the solid wood banister with tender care, and with a deep feeling of regret.
Eventually, Mr Henning reached the door of room 19 and he paused for a moment, but then quickly opened the door and swiftly closed it again, locking it as he did so. He then walked over to the window and placed his hands on the windowsill, watching his wife carefully place flowers in the newly laid out rows of soil in the ground. Then, she stood and looked out towards the bay. The lake was dancing with light while boats jiggled about at their moorings while the water lapped up the sides of the harbour. Business had been so good for the local fishermen this year that the bay lake had almost been fished out. She just stood there in awe of nature's beauty, oblivious to the actions of her husband in the upstairs window behind her.
As Mrs Henning had been watching the summer sun glisten off the water like light off a crystal, Mr Henning had retrieved a length of rope from underneath the double bed. He had then tied it around the roof beam directly above himself and had tightened it strongly. Then, he pulled a chair over from the small vanity desk to his right and he then placed it under the rope. Carefully, he opened the window to let the soft, cool, relaxing breeze drift in around him while he climbed onto the chair. Mr Henning cautiously thread his head through the noose and pulled tight on the tie. Then, with one final breath, he shoved the chair from underneath his feet away from him.
Mr Henning fell sharply, his neck broke instantly, and his neck twisted violently, his eyes transfixed on his beautiful wife. His body jerked with shock, and soon just hung, swaying slightly from the ceiling. Suddenly, Mrs Henning turned round and looked directly up at the window of room 19. Her eyes widened slowly, her mouth dropped slightly as she fell to the floor. She sat there for a moment and then screamed.

After the first tragedy that befell the hotel, all was quiet for another ten years. Time ran on, undisturbed in the peaceful atmosphere of Sanctuary Bay. People came and went to the hotel, unbeknown to them, the tragedy that happened in room 19. The town knew of the death, but never mentioned it once, despite the many rumours that circled due to curious children who played nearby in the fields whilst the lonely Mrs Henning hung out the washing whilst her son was closeted away at boarding school in the next county of Morgan's Passing.
It was 1929, the great depression had hit America hard while businesses crumbled in all the major cities, but in the small town of Sanctuary Bay, it was almost like the Wall Street Crash had never happened. Holidaying couples and families came and went, just keeping the Grand Oak in business. Then eventually, business started to slow down to a crawl and only a couple of people were in the hotel at any one time. One particular time, there was a businessman who had just lost it all, his job, his house, car and family; he was a man, shattered by the economic disaster. He had all the money he possessed in his pocket, enough to last a couple of days at the Grand Oak Hotel. When he entered the Hotel, he was wearing all that he owned and he was carrying a metal plated suitcase which pulled his arm down, slightly setting him off-balance as he checked in quietly.
Mrs Henning had hired help conducting all the practical business in the hotel, as well as working at the reception. The young woman stood behind the reception desk, slightly weary to the world as Mrs Henning kept her working hard. The mysterious, broken shell of a man did not utter one word to the young woman behind the desk, even when she handed him the first key to hand off the peg-board. The wooden nameplate that dangled from the key read '19.' The young woman had not been told about what had really happened in room 19, but she had heard the rumours, and believed almost all of them. As the man took the key, she quivered slightly.
The man took the key and slowly walked off towards the stairs as he looked at his key. He was small in proportion to the staircase itself; the luxuriously detailed carvings in the banister followed him up like a snake, entangled round a vine. The man reached the head of the steps and stopped in his tracks. He glanced at the key one more time and then looked to his left and his right at the directional signs on the walls opposite him. They read 'Rooms 1-9' and 'Rooms 10-18' and the final sign, which was positioned above the door at the very end of a dark hallway read 'Room 19.' The man sighed and wondered off slowly towards the end of the dingy corridor. The floorboards beneath his feet creaked louder and louder as he neared the large wooden door.
Finally, he reached the end of the corridor and placed the large metal case on the floor. Reaching for the keyhole, he jiggled the key into position in his hand. He paused for a moment, and breathed in deeply for a second before inserting the key and twisting it sharply, unlocking the door. As he picked up his metal case again, he pushed the door open with his foot as he pulled the key out with his free hand. The room was musty, but seemed to be freshly cleaned, the grand look of the room was almost overpowering, but he did not stop and adore it, he stepped inside the room quick sharp and closed the door behind him, locking it when it slammed shut.
Slowly and nervously, he placed the metal case on the double bed to the right of the door. Laying it down, he breathed in shallow, and then took a deep breath. The man unclipped the locks on either side of the case and then quickly opened the cold metal box. He stood there, the box open in front of him, the metal lining glimmered in the hot sunlight while the cold black steel of a rifle beamed down on his soul and his fears of living one day longer. He let his arms drop down to his side as he turned to face the large mirror opposite the bed. The mirror was dusty, slightly obscuring the image of his self, which stared back at him with a blank expression. Next to the mirror on a small trolley sat a radio. It was dark brown and well crafted. The man stepped over to it, twisted the knob in the centre, and let the sound of Beethoven's 7th symphony flood through the room. As he let go of the knob, he closed his eyes and turned around once again to face the cold, un-welcoming gun lying on the bed. He took a deep breath for the last time and wondered over to the bed where he sat down and placed the gun on his lap, liberated from its steel case. Also inside the case was a new box of bullets. He opened it carefully and took one out, gripping it tight in his shaking hands. As he looked out the window into the deep blue sky, he loaded the bullet quickly, snapping the chamber door closed. The gun was loaded and ready, but he was not quite willing to finish. Instead, he stood again, and walked over to the window, looking out onto the garden of the hotel. He saw Mrs Henning, hanging the washing out on the line while the sun beat down on her face. She then stops, and turns to face the direction of the driveway where a local patrol car from the Sheriff's office has pulled up. The silent man suddenly snapped out of it and paced back to the bed. He grabbed the gun with vigour and determination, clenched tightly in his wrinkled hands. He then stepped to stand in front of the window, but he faced the door of the room, his back turned on creation. He swung the gun around so that the barrel was pointed into his mouth, which he then closed around the chilled steel of the rifle barrel. He carefully placed his thumb on the trigger, positioning it with ease and precision. Then he squeezed down on the trigger.
The gun blast goes off and is heard amidst the harmony of Beethoven. The Sheriff, who was exiting his car, jumps into action, reaching for his gun at his side. To view the area where the shot came from, the Sheriff ran around the side of the hotel to where Mrs Henning is still standing, her face pale as powder and her eyes glazed over, starring at the window of Room 19, splattered with blood. The Sheriff looks at Mrs Henning, touching her by the shoulder to try and gain a response, nothing. He then follows the line of her sight, and gasps as he sees the blood slowly falling down the glass panes on the sunlit window of Room 19.
In a quick fit of action, he ran back around to the front of the hotel, bursting through the front door, startling the receptionist who is cowering in the back office. The Sheriff pounds up the stairs with speed, running for Room 19 at the end of the corridor opposite the staircase. Clutching his handgun, the Sheriff kicks the door once, then again, letting the door crash open onto an image of blood enlightened by sunlight and a twisted figure on the floor. The room is silent, except for the echo of Beethoven, which still rings out beautifully from the radio in the corner. In shock, the Sheriff stands there, looking at the body, which lies before him.
The third death in the hotel was also classed as suicide. It seemed to the townsfolk as if a local vagabond had broken into the hotel during the summer-break when the hotel was out of season for a month or so. During this time, the hotel was to be re-furbished and the contractors had just begun work, but due to a problem with the local authority, they had to stop work due to apparent destruction of heritage property throughout the summer restoration. So it was easy for the vagabond to gain entry to the hotel and not to be disturbed for some time. During this time, the tramp proceeded to wreak havoc on the interior of the hotel, destroy records and break-up furniture as well as completely obliterate the guestrooms. However, it was by this time that the tramp had descended into madness, as it seems. The coroners came to this conclusion as this individual had just been released from a minimum security psychiatric ward just outside the area boundaries and had obviously reverted to his original state during his destructive and expressive, as the detectives put it, time in the hotel alone.
It was when the tramp came to Room 19 that his mood apparently changed as the local legend goes. It is also rumoured that it was because of this room and its past that caused this man's death. The man had hung himself from the crossbeam in the centre of the room, looking out of the window onto the back garden of the building. The reason for his suicide was un-determined, but it was blamed on his previous mental state, and nothing more was said about it.
The body was discovered some weeks later when the hotel was opened up again. Mrs Henning and her assistant found the hotel in a dire state, and they proceeded to check all the rooms for any signs of squatting individuals. It was when they attempted to enter Room 19 that they found the door had been blocked by the large and heavy bed. So to find out what was in the room, the part time groundskeeper had to climb the outside trelace and peer in through the window. What he saw was incredibly shocking. The body of the tramp still hung there, deadly still, the neck of the man twisted and broken. His eyes were locked open and dry, his tongue dangling from his frozen, screaming mouth. As well as this many weeks in the direct sunlight from the window of Room 19 had caused his internal fluids and fat to melt down into thick grease which had now coated the floor. What was left of the vagabond was a twisted, dehydrated, disgusting corpse.

In the war that followed, the Grand Oak Hotel stood dormant on top of the hill, looking over on the events that passed by in the small, peaceful town, only occasionally shattered by the death of a local youth, or the encampment of an army regiment for a few days, other than that, the small town almost missed the war. During this time, Mrs Henning's son, Henry, achieved a degree in biology and soon after, married his college sweetheart, Vanessa Harding. They both had a child, who was named Michael, in 1944. Vanessa died during childbirth. Henry and Michael lived together in a quiet, solitary existence on the outskirts of Sanctuary Bay, until, when Michael was 18, his father suffered a severe stroke, and was bed ridden thereafter. Michael couldn't possibly cope, and was forced to place his father in a home. Michael had been forced to cease his college applications, and take over the family hotel for money to help his crippled father. It was the summer of 1963 that Michael had just completed restoring the Grand Oak after using a large loan from the bank. If he was to ever pay it off, this summer had to be a successful one, otherwise, he was bankrupt.
The grand opening had come, it was April 22nd, 1963 and Michael had already received several bookings for the hotel, it seemed as yet, that this summer was going to be a busy and profitable one. Michael had spent an entire year slowly restoring the decrepit hotel, so he was hoping the new look was to draw in the crowds of hollidaying couples. He opened the doors at 8 a.m. sharp and waited for the customers to arrive, eventually, they did, and slowly the hotel began to fill up again. The hotel was once again alive with the sound of people, distanced from the horrific past it had once suffered. Soon, all the rooms had been filled, except for Room 19, which Michael had told the new receptionist not to let out, but as this was her first day, she was bound to forget.
It was now the night of the 26th, and Michael, after having finished his accounts at the hotel, got in his car and set off to the town down the long, winding country dirt road that swerved to and fro through fields of crop. The road was thin and there was really only enough room for one car at a time for the most part, and so, when a classy, red sports car came roaring up the road, much to the surprise of Michael, he was forced to swerve his car into the side of the road to avoid a certain collision with the half-drunk couple who yelped and laughed at the tops of their voices as they disappeared towards the hotel.
"Shit! God damned yuppie bastards!" shouted Michael as the engine cut out on his car.
He turned the key and started the engine again. He revved the engine and pulled himself out of the ditch at the side of the road and then roared off towards town.

The small town of Sanctuary Bay was like any other small fishing community and tourist attraction. Old buildings from the past century lined the sides of the street; the signs of the times had not yet reached the Bay area, as it seemed as if the town was still stuck in the 1950's. However, one thing that was always new, was the movie showing at the small local cinema in the centre of town. It was a quiet night and the moon shone beautifully in the dark sky as the surrounding stars twinkled contentedly. Michael slowly drove his car round to the front of the cinema where a central parking area for the town centre was situated. He parked his car between two small trees and proceeded to walk over to the cinema.
As Michael crossed the road, he soon became aware of a familiar figure walking towards him on the sidewalk opposite the parking lot. At first Michael just glanced, but he then looked back. And much to his amazement, it was an old friend from the local High school who was in the same year as Michael. As the sudden shock passed him, Michael ran across the rest of the road and dashed over to the familiar figure.
"Hey! Steve, I ain't seen you in years!" shouted Michael as he ran.
Steve looked up and glanced around his surrounding vicinity and spotted Michael jogging up to him. He gasped in amazement too.
"Michael! Shit! How the hell are you man? Been a long time."
The pair met on the edge of the cinema's entrance and stopped dead in front of each other, unable to get over the full shock of suddenly bumping into each other after such a long time.
"Man, this�..shit man, I ain't seen you in so long. How are you?"
"Ah, you know, just the same, still working in the supermarket on weekends, you know, the usual. How about you?" replied Steve.
"Um�.well, you know, good, good, I'm running the Grand Oak now."
"Really? What about your father? Is he all right, I heard the news from Mrs Jackson next door," said Steve.
"Oh yeah, he's umm�not so good, he's in a home, near Overlook Ridge, you know, that small retirement place in the mountains."
"Oh yeah, I know the one. Well, anyway, at least he's getting full time care I suppose. Juggling the hotel and your father would have been a bit much, huh?"
"Hmmm�oh yeah, it would have wouldn't it. Anyway�. um�.what are you doing here?" asked Michael.
"To see the movie, what about you?"
"Same here," replied Michael.
"Well, in that case, lets go in then shall we?"
The two then wondered into the cinema and disappeared into a sea of people and oversized posters for cheesy monster movies as swarms of horny teens ran about the ground floor with popcorn and soda overflowing from both arms.
As they entered, they managed to find themselves doused in the mayhem of the usual summer evening shows, and dodged their ways to the ticket booth. Then, without getting too battered, they got their popcorn and soda and then crept into the screening room.
Rowdy teenagers threw popcorn and chased each other as the beginning trailers played on the screen and as the projectionist focussed the image. To avoid being pelted with hot butter soaked confectioneries; Michael and Steve made their way to the front from the very side of the hall. They found some spare seats near the front as most of the teenagers were occupying the back rows, making out and generally not paying any attention to the movie at all.

Meanwhile, the red sports car continues to roar up the winding country road towards the hotel where it eventually comes to a screeching halt outside the front entrance. A man and a woman step out of the car and meander their way up to and through the front door of the hotel, struggling to open it as they do so. The couple spill into the reception area and collapse against the desk where a bemused receptionist stands staring at them. As the couple continue to laugh incessantly, the man asks for a room quick, and distracted by the situation, the receptionist picks the Room 19 key off the board and hands it over to the paralytic woman as the man signs for the room and drops a couple of $20 bills on the floor in a rush. As he grabs them off the floor and sets them in front of the receptionist, the woman runs off up the stairs to find their room, which they eagerly await.
They make their way up the stairs, barely, and slowly fall about to their room where they crash through the door and fall onto the bed.

It was now about halfway through the film now and they were beginning to grow tired of it, and so Steven began to conduct a whispered conversation.
"Hey, I heard your Grandmother isn't doing too good these days."
"What? Oh yeah, yeah. She's not too good these days anymore," replied Michael.
"I heard she had gone mental in the head or something."
"What the fuck? Christ dude, don't you have any way of saying anything politely? Besides, she ain't crazy, she just don't understand some stuff no more, anyway, it's none of your business. Shut up and watch the movie."
"Look, sorry dude, didn't mean any offence. That's just what I head in town. Right, I think I'd better take a piss before this movie kills me and I piss myself in boredom," said Steve quietly.
He stands and ducks into the men's room entrance to their right dodging flying popcorn bombs and rowdy teens. As the door to the men's room closes, Michael stands up and follows him in, his right hand firmly implanted in his pocket.

As Michael enters he sees Steve relieving himself at the urinals in the corner. As the door slams shut, Steve almost jumps out of his shoes and turns his head to see who it is.
"Oh, hey Michael. Damn man, you almost made me piss on my hush puppies!" he says in a jovial manner.
As Steve finishes up and wonders over to the sinks to wash up, he notices Michael's right hand firmly implanted in his pocket. Suddenly, Michael pulls out his hand, a flick comb held firmly in check. He opens it out and proceeds to groom himself in the mirrors. As Steve continued to wash his hands as thoroughly and pedantically as ever, Michael walked out of the room, his eye slightly twitching.

Finally, Steve finishes washing his hands and goes to twist the tap off. But he turns it the wrong way and a strong jet of water burst into the sink and splashes out onto his trousers.
"Ah shit!" he shouts to himself.
As he begins to wipe himself off with his hands vigorously, the lights suddenly begin to flicker and buzz and then die. The room is left in total darkness with just the flicker of cinema light coming under the door. Steve then staggers around the room, totally unsure of where he is heading, and then for a short time, the light of the cinema screen floods the room as a lone dark figure walks through the door, dressed in a long black coat, but before Steve can fully recognise someone has entered, the door swings shut again and the room is plummeted into darkness once more.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" he says nervously.
Then in a violent flash, Steve feels a cold blade strike his neck, puncturing it quickly, sending blood flying across the pitch-black room. As the pain fully enters Steve's mind, the figure that attacked him escapes out of the bathroom window, smashing it as the figure does so. As the sounds of screaming teenagers fills the cinema, Steve collapses to the floor in a smeared pool of blood on the gritty floor of the bathroom.

Finally, the film finished and Michael walked out of the cinema, passing sex-crazed teens as he did so. It is now late at night, nearly midnight, and the town is silent. Shops closed with their lights out, and just Michael's car sitting lonely in the parking spot outside the cinema. He walks over the road and jumps into his car. He turns the key and guns the engine, roaring off into the darkness of the winding country road as he does so.
The truck Michael was driving was battered and was in need of a service, but he didn't care or have the money, and as the engine began to struggle against the incline of the hill leading to the Grand Oak, Michael reached over to the glove compartment and pulled out a brown bottle with no label. He unscrews it and takes a couple of swigs. As he gets closer to the hotel, he finishes off the remnants of the bottle and lobs it out of the truck window.

Michael eventually reaches the hotel and pulls into his spot to the side of the hotel just by the service entrance for the kitchen. The engine rumbles to a sombre death as Michael steps out of the car, closing the door as he does so and walks up to the front door of the hotel. He pulls it open sharply, frightening the receptionist as he does so. He wanders in calm and collected and asks if there was anymore business.
"Just one more couple. Arrived in a fancy sports car, let out the last room, I figured I should scenes as this couple looked the sort that might spend a few nights here," replied the receptionist.
"Alright then. Be a darling and sort the files in the office would you, I think I'll turn in, screaming teens and such isn�t exactly an easy billet. See you tomorrow morning."
"Have a good rest Michael," replies the receptionist.
As Michael wondered up the grand staircase, the receptionist listened as Michael approached his room, closing the door quietly while he turned out the lights.
The receptionist sighed and wondered into the office where a desk and filing cabinet consumed much of the free space of the room. She stepped over to the desk and picks up the receipt slip for the drunken couple in the sports car and she places it on top of the filing cabinet opposite the desk. She opens the top drawer and pulls out the first file nearest to her. She opens it and places the receipt on top of the cabinet inside the thin card folder. As she places the folder back in the cabinet, she hears a creak of a floorboard, but she disregards it for the effect of the wind and the shoddy construction of the building.
Finally, the receptionist turns out the lights and begins to walk to the door of the office to exit and lock the doors for the night, but before she exits the office, a dark figure in a long black trench coat jumps around the corner of the doorframe. The figure crams his hand over her mouth to stop her screams being heard while the dark shape pushes her inside the room, slamming the door shut as the two figures struggle with each other. The strange man pushes the young receptionist against the desk on which he forces her down on. As he rips open her shirt, he whispers menacingly into her ear.
"Move or scream and you die bitch!"
As he continues to tear the clothing off the young woman, he pulls a knife on her and strokes the cold blade against he cheek as an extra warning. Finally, as the sounds of the raucous drunken couple upstairs ceases, the whimpers of the receptionist echo out into the reception area slightly, but nobody is there to hear.

The following morning, an elderly guest from room 7 descends the grand staircase first and wonders downstairs, coming to a halt in the reception area where she is expecting to meet the young receptionist for when breakfast is to be served. But nobody is there to greet her. Instead, the door to the office is ajar and the smear of a drop of blood is evident on the door handle. The old woman gasps in shock, but unsure as to whether she has reason to be scared, she walks round to the office door and pushes it open. Inside, laid out on the desk is the naked dead body of the receptionist, her clothes torn off her body, multiple stab wounds in the stomach and chest area, blood covering her skin, the desk and the floor. The blood soaking her breasts is smeared and slathered over while her eyes are wide open, frozen in fear. As the impact of the Grand Guignol of encounters hits the elderly woman, she screams in ultimate fear. She began to back away, out of the room to escape the horror show, bumping into the reception desk as she backs out of the office, she eventually turns to face away from the catastrophe, but as she turns to face the opposite direction, she lands her eyes directly into the naked chest of Michael who has come running from his bedroom, shocked and unsure of what to expect. The woman screams again as Michael shocks her even more, she eventually loses it and runs of back up the stairs towards her room in which she slams the door and locks it.
As the hotel returns to silence, Michael begins to step towards the office, slowly and cautiously, he walks through the door and swallows an eyeful of the raped body of his receptionist. As horror fills his face, he steps out of the room again quickly and picks up the phone and dials for the local sheriff.

In minutes, the Sheriff arrives at the hotel with the county coroner closely behind him, driving up the winding road leading up from the sleepy town. The Sheriff rounded up all the guests for questioning in the dining hall at the back of the building while the county coroner arrived and set to work examining the body and eventually, taking it out to the ambulance to be taken to the county hospital morgue for a final post-mortem. Finally, after the Sheriff and his deputy had finished questioning the guests, they came to Michael.
"Michael, may you come with us please, we have to ask you some questions privately down at the police station," said the Sheriff.
"I don't understand. Are you saying you're arresting me or something?"
"No Michael, we just need to discuss some things down at the station. Honest son, just come with us and we'll have this over with as soon as possible."
The Sheriff escorted Michael out of the hotel and into the back of his squad car while the Deputy cleared up at the hotel. As the squad car drove away from the hotel, it suddenly all became eerily quiet again.

Down at the police station, Michael was sat down in one of the questioning rooms as he sipped at his coffee.
"Now Michael, this won't take long, but is necessary," said the Sheriff.
"Son, did you visit the cinema last night?"
"Yes sir, I went to watch the late night movie. I met a friend from High School too sir."
"Yes, well, that's the thing. You see, your friend, Steve. He was found in the bathroom, dead," said the Sheriff.
"What! No, what are you talking about? He can�t be dead! He can't be, I just saw him last night!"
"Michael, I'm sorry, Steve is dead. It seems that someone entered the bathroom, killed him, and escaped through the bathroom window."
"Well, I know he went into the bathroom, but I never noticed him coming out. When the movie ended, I just assumed he had to slip out without my knowing about it. All I remember is out of the corner of my eye was a figure entering the bathroom, but that's it," replied Michael.
They continued to talk for a few more minutes until eventually, the Sheriff finished questioning Michael and let him go. As Michael left, the Sheriff met with the Deputy who had just arrived back from the Grand Oak.
"So what's the verdict chief? Innocent?" asked the Deputy.
"Yeah son, he's innocent alright. Poor bastard, with all the shit going on in his life, really makes you feel for him," replied the Sheriff.
"I guess the truth is strange than fiction huh Sheriff?"
"That it is son, and a damn sight more brutal in its dealings too."

In the years that followed, the sleepy town of Sanctuary Bay kept on chugging along, missing the worldly progress by about 5 years, constantly left behind from the hubbub of the corporate cities. The years passed by and as they did, the town stayed the same, the old folks died to make room for another generation of people to re-populate the small town. While events in Sanctuary Bay were slow, the events of the Grand Oak Hotel were just as slow. There was never another death throughout all these years, but life replaced it. Michael met a young girl shortly after the last death at the hotel, a woman named Michelle, she lived on the opposite side of town, but Michael only met her around a year after the events of the last fatal year at the Grand Oak. Eventually, after knowing each other for a year, they got together, and not long afterwards, they got married and had a son, David whilst continuing to run the Grand Oak as a family business. 11 years passed by, 11 years without Michael's wife or son knowing about the past decades of horror, which plagued their home, the Grand Oak Hotel.
It was now the late summer of 1974 and "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre" had exploded onto the cinema circuit, even onto the relatively small screen of the local Sanctuary Bay theatre. Yet again, Michael attended as any other keen horror movie fan would, watching the new movie with awe and salted attention. Yet again, hormonally unstable teens veered around the theatre in horrified and over-sexed bliss while popcorn missiles rocketed through the air with vigour.
On the night of August 13th 1974, a young couple appeared at the reception of the Grand Oak Hotel, young and in love, they quickly began to make their way to their room, but not before the man asked if any good movies were playing at the local theatre. Michael, being nearby at the time, shouted out that "Texas Chainsaw Massacre is on!" much to the delight of the fellow horror movie fan who was slowly making his way up the stairs to his room, unknown to Michael to be Room 19.
Eventually, the couple emerged from their room and staggered down the stairs and made their way out of the front door of the hotel. As they leapt into their car, Michael watched out of one of the side windows. The man turned the engine over and rumbled the car out of the parking spot in which it had previously sat. As the car roared off into the distance down the darkened winding road leading to the town, Michael came away from the window and walked off. Soon, the couple had made it to the movie theatre and were dashing in to catch the beginning of the movie when the man, Neil, suggested a little roll in the hay in the back of his car after the movie, but Helen, his girlfriend was not impressed.
"Come on, we'll miss the start if you don't hurry it up!" exclaimed Helen.
Meanwhile, as they entered the cinema, a black car pulled up outside the barbershop across the street from the cinema. The driver cloaked in a long black trench coat, a hat covering his eyes with shadow. As the engine of the mysterious car winded down, the driver turned out the lights and waited in the car.

Throughout the film, Helen remained fastened to Neil's arm, frightened out of her gort. As scream after scream bellowed from the movie, Helen's grip got tighter and tighter while the chainsaw-wielding maniac on screen ripped and swiped with his gas-guzzling weapon.
"Christ girl! You grip any tighter an' my arm'll fall off!" whispered Neil under the roar of the crowd of promiscuous teenagers and college dropouts alike.
"Neil, this movie is too scary, hold me!" replied Helen.
"Don't worry baby, it's just a movie. I'm here, it's just a movie."
Finally, the film ended and as the end credits began to roll, Neil and Helen made their way out of the cinema amidst the flocks of screaming teenage girls and sighing teenage boys.
As they bounded into their car, Neil noticed a dark figure in a car across the street from them, but took no notice, as he was far more anxious to get back to their hotel bed. But before he started the engine, the mysterious car roared into action and took off into the night at speed. Neil shrugged his shoulders and pressed down on the gas himself.
It was midnight by the time they arrived at the hotel and as they drove in, they were not so cautious to keep the noise of their cavorting to a minimum and retained this noise all the way to Room 19 where they closed the door and hastily turned out the lights.
"I see Christmas is coming early for some," joked Michael.
"Yeah, them kids are always in some sort of mood for sex, just like all those in them horror movies you keep watching," replied Michelle who was standing at the reception tidying away the day's receipts.
Finally, it was time to close up, Michelle finished in the office and was first off to bed while Michael locked up and proceeded to watch some television before going to bed. All was peaceful once again as the whales and screams of elation had died down from Room 19.

While Neil and Helen lay there holding each other in a peaceful doze, Neil was suddenly awoken by a chilling, light breeze. He looked over to the window, nothing, it was closed, but as he looked over to the door, he could see it come ajar, letting a small beam of moonlight penetrate the room from the main hallway. As the noise of the wind began to pick up, Neil became aware of something. He climbed out of bed and wandered over to the door. At first he hid behind it, waiting to pounce on the outside presence. Then, he leapt, launching his body stealthily around the door and into the line of sight of horror. As Neil became aware of what he was facing, he was unable to scream as a sledgehammer came crashing down into his skull, smashing his face into an instant bloody pulp. Just as his body began to fall to the floor, the mysterious figure at the door grabbed a hold of Neil's shirt and pulled him into the hallway, dragging him away down into the darkness of the hall.
As the horror unfolded, Helen lay unknowing of the looming danger she was facing. As she tossed and turned from side to side, she eventually became aware of the missing presence of her loved one. She woke up suddenly and glanced to her side viewing an empty side of the bed. She then looked over to the door, it was wide open now and there was a trail of smeared blood on the wooden floor, leading out of the room and down the hallway. At first she thought it was another one of Neil's sick jokes, but she soon became aware of something more terrifying as this 'joke' seemed to become more serious as the shadow of a figure began to rise across the blood smeared floor. Her eyes widened slightly as this shadow crept along the floor, filling more and more of the room. It slid across the wooden floor slowly, then it began to slow down even further as the shadow began to slide up the wall to Helen's right until it eventually ceased moving and it seemed someone was standing at the door. Helen, like one of the dumb women in the horror movie she had just viewed a few hours before, climbed out of her bed and began to search for the answer as to who was standing behind the door. As she did so, her heart began to pound faster on the inside of her chest, forever pounding, faster and faster, until she turned around to face the figure behind the door. As the horror that had once unfolded before Neil became apparent in front of Helen's eyes, the crushing force of a bloodied sledge came crashing down on Helen's head, breaking her skull open in a blood-lusting spectacle.

Suddenly, Michelle awoke in her bed; her eyes open in a flash. She searched for Michael, but he was nowhere to be seen. As she managed to climb out of bed in a half-awake manner, she wondered over to the closet and pulled out her nightgown, tying it up as she stepped over to the door. As their room was on the ground floor of the hotel, she did not see the blood trail on the landing above. As she stepped out into the cold, dark hallway of the hotel, her eyes danced across the walls, staying a while in open doorways and windows as a storm began to brew outside, thunder beginning to rumble as a shower began to dance on the roof, echoing droplets of rain throughout the building. Michelle stepped out further into the hallway and was now standing at the foot of the stairs. Suddenly, a sharp creak sounded out from upstairs. Her head turning as her ears twitched. Like a foolish horror movie star, she began to walk up the stairs, but to her, it seemed as if everything was okay. All the while as she was ascending the stairs, she started to become aware of a slight glimmer of moonlight that was coming through the upper hall window to her left which was lighting a pathway to Room 19. Finally, she stepped onto the landing, right into a smeared pathway of blood. She screamed as she lost her balance on the damp, bloodied floor, hitting her head as she fell and landed on her back. Michelle struggled to regain her senses and when she came to, a dark figure was now standing at her feet, she looked up, and in the figure's hand was a sledgehammer, gripped tight and spattered with blood which dripped off the end onto the floor. She tried to identify the figure standing in front of her, but she couldn't see who it was in the dark, only when a flash of lightening lit the hallway did she see a glimpse of the figure in front of her. A white face, smeared with blood greeted her, the familiarity was clear and terrifying. It was Michael. His eyes were wide and dilated, a sadistic grin plastered across his face as he breathed in and out slowly, but deeply. As Michelle collapsed into terrified confusion, Michael suddenly gripped the sledge with both hands and raised it above his head, as another strobe of lightening cascaded across his face he brought it swinging down, but missed as Michelle rolled out of the way as the sledge buried itself into the hard wood floor. As Michael struggled to free his weapon, Michelle clambered to her feet and ran to the nearest room, banging on the door in fear. It opened on its own and swung open, the lights were already on, a bed filled with two corpses lay there twisted, blood smeared and splattered everywhere, Michelle screamed again and ran further down the hallway in ultimate fear, banging on any and all doors, desperately seeking help and sanctuary from the crazed killer that she once knew as her husband. Yet again, the doors were unlocked, opening onto yet more scenes of the macabre, a river of blood gushed all over the floors and lifeless bodies of the residents of the hotel.
Eventually, Michelle knew she had to find a hiding spot and finally hid in one of the rooms, locking the door as she closed the door. As she waited for Michael to come knocking, she closed her eyes tight so as not to capture a glimpse of the bodies behind her on the bed. But as she waited, she remembered, David. She gasped, but she was too paralysed with fear to move, but as she stayed there, hunched over on the floor, she began to hear footsteps descending the staircase, which eventually ended just before her child's scream was cut short. As she realised the horrible truth, she screamed and wailed in pain, but as she did, Michael managed to discover her hiding place and promptly came to the room, smashing at the door with the sledgehammer with vigour and murderous passion. Shards of wood splintered out into the air as Michelle screamed and wailed in fear, but it was all too late, Michael had crashed through the door and was again standing over her, gripping the sledge with pleasure, ready to take one last swipe to finish Michelle for good. She waited for it, her head down in her hands, she wept as she continued to crouch on the floor, hunched over. But the expected never came, but something else. A swift kick in the back of the head greeted her and she fell to the floor screaming in pain, screaming for her life, for the life of her child who now lay sprawled on the floor of the reception, mangled.
Michael kicked her again, and again and then once more in the stomach sending her across the room, coming to a stop against the wall, crying for her life, crying for mercy. Michael then dropped the sledge, instead, stepping over to what was once his wife. He jumped down to her level, standing on his knees, he then grabbed her by the head, pulling her up to meet with him eye to eye.
"Why are you doing this?" wept Michelle. "Why don't you just do it!?"
"Awww�now I couldn't do that to someone who has served me so well over these past years. I think I'd better explain myself, huh? What do you think? Do you want to know why this is happening? Do you want to know what my past involves, how many people I've killed? Huh? Do you want to know? Do you?"
Michelle continued to weep as Michael grabbed her tighter, now pulling his body up next to hers. Pressing his lap against Michelle.
"Well, hmm�let me see�there was, well, there was my old High School buddy, that was a laugh, but not nearly as fun as doing in those two drunken wastes of space as those in that sports car years ago. But in the end of the day, I think, despite having lots of fun here tonight with all these fresh chickens waiting to be plucked, I think the most fun I ever had was, ah yes. My receptionist years ago oh man that was fun. I tell you, she was a hot fucking bitch that's for sure. I had my eye on her for a long time, watching her do everything, everything as she bent down. Even as she showered, oh yes, that was a good one, but then, I had to finish my obsession with her right, so I fucked her! I fucked her and then I killed her! You like that? You like that? Well that's what's gonna happen to you now bitch! Yeah, get ready bitch, this is gonna knock your fucking socks off!"
Without haste, Michael dropped her head back to where she cowered and he ripped off her shirt, and then tore off her panties, subjecting her to a final terror as she wailed out into the night before finally being silenced.

The following day a couple looking for a room discovered the scene. The Sheriff was alerted, and soon, the hotel was closed for good, closed forever, never to again drag anyone down to hell where it had come from.