A small girl sat staring at a lonesome flower beyond her reach. Her longing eyes burned with a desire to touch it, explore it, smell its sticky sweetness. But a thicket isolated her with its clawing hand, pushing her away from the flower’s beauty. Only between the taunting branches could she catch glimpses of it. In the windy night, she watched the flower sway, like the soothing rhythm of waves in an ocean. The pulling motions drifted her to sleep, her dreams filled with thoughts of escaping the darkness. It closed in on her, making it harder and harder to breathe. She could feel her lungs tighten. Her mind was clouded with demons. Demons who hid within the shadows of the trees around her.

The flower distracted her.

She craved its innocence, its purity. The thought of exploring its delicate simplicity kept her from insanity. As the unforgiving, wintry air arrived, she feared for the little flower in the field. Lonely. Cold. She yearned to hold and comfort it, warm its frozen petals. But the thicket held her back.

She was lost. Alone in a world of darkness. No one was with her. Her family was gone. She should have been gone too. But she was still here, somehow. She longed to join them. So she waited.

After a while, she turned away and began walking down the damp, abandoned trail. Her feet dragged across the loose pebbles, emitting a faint scuffing sound. Her little rain boots wandered across the muddy soil.

She stopped suddenly, hearing footsteps from behind in the distance. A man revealed himself, coming around the corner. He hesitated when he saw her. He stopped, concerned for the lonely girl in the woods.

“Are you alright?” He asked. She didn’t say a word. A look of fear came across her face. He found this to be perfectly natural, as a stranger had just appeared to her. He took a step toward her, wondering if she was lost.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she said. Her voice was soft and light. Looking at her closer, the man realized she must’ve been much younger than what he thought originally. Maybe eight or nine. But her eyes hinted at a terribleness he could never imagine.

“Wouldn’t do what?” He asked.

“You shouldn’t come any closer.”

He questioned her again.

“These woods aren’t safe. This town isn’t safe.” She drew in a quick breath. “It is always listening. It’s always here,” she whispered. “Can’t you feel it? It never lets you leave.”

He felt the crisp air moving along the trail, encouraging him to draw closer to the girl and her secrets. He felt an ominous presence from where the girl had been walking. He looked behind her. The woods continued on, darker and more mysterious. She turned around and left the man standing there. She continued back to the forest where she had been. Back to her flower.

The man, with a chill coursing through his body, felt overwhelming curiosity in the cold, dark night. He looked down the long road. He couldn’t see the end.

“It never lets you leave.” The girl’s words echoed in his head.

He started walking.

He walked for only a minute or two before he came across a quaint little town in a clearing of the woods. Doors barely hung on their rusted hinges, groaning in pain when each gust of wind blew. Ancient houses stood in agony of their betrayal. Through all of the destruction, it seemed as though this town used to be loved. An old playground lay in the center. He could envision an abundance of children, running through the small town, laughing, playing. Why had it been abandoned?

He walked along the cracked road, searching for an explanation. As he got closer to the houses, he noticed that they had all been boarded up. He moved closer to a small house whose boards were not as secure. It only took three strong kicks for them to collapse. He opened the door slowly. A wave of nausea hit him hard. The smell was unbearable. But the sight was worse. Bodies lay on the ground, stained a deep shade of crimson. Their flesh had been ripped to shreds. Only their eyes stared back at him. Amidst this horror, flowers had been placed inside the entire house. The multitude of colors did nothing to make the scene less horrible. Shattered glass from the vases covered the floor. The brightness of the petals created a disturbing image next to the mutilated bodies. He felt his stomach tighten. He couldn’t imagine the horror that befell this innocent town. It couldn’t have happened long ago. The flowers hadn’t even wilted.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps. It was coming from above him. The sounds were very faint. Something climbed across the roof. The calmness of the steps was the worst part. He swallowed hard, somehow knowing this was what had destroyed this town, these families. He couldn’t explain it. He felt this unknown presence throughout his body. It urged him to stay.

The footsteps continued.

The creature must not have known that the door was wide open. The man followed the sounds above him until he heard it scraping inside the chimney. It came down. Down. He heard a faint rattle. It struggled to come toward him. It was desperate. The creature came closer, pushing through the narrow tunnel. It wouldn’t stop. He didn’t hesitate to run. He raced out of the house, hearing a blinding shriek from the thing in the chimney. It knew he was there. He turned back mid-sprint and saw it.

And knew he stood no chance.

The girl still sat in the woods. She heard the shrieking. She knew what had happened. It was what took her family. Her entire life. She tried not to hear the crunching of bones, the obliteration of a body, another life taken. A tear escaped her eyes. She had tried to warn him. She looked back at the flower. Her mom had loved flowers. Their home was full of them. Full of happiness and warmth. But that happiness was gone. Now she remained, somehow having escaped these horrors. It had only happened days ago. She wished she was with her family. But she was stuck here. Stuck without her mom, without even this flower to hold. So she waited, too scared to face the creature. She waited and waited in the woods.

She waited to die.

What have I done?

I stood in front of the taunting hotel doors. From beyond the windows, something was stirring. Invisible to the eye, but there nevertheless.

Insanity pierced my skin. It persisted. It was the essence that edged my thoughts away from the light. It grabbed hold of me. Persisting, ever persisting. Little did I know, the moment I entered the abandoned hotel, insanity had already consumed what little life I had left.

I turned on my flashlight. Unrecognizable shadows covered the wall. Light’s conspicuous absence caused my mind to grow sick of the constant suffocating blackness. I took the first step.

The next moment I had gone up ten floors. I kept going.

Floor twenty. Breathing became more difficult. I longed for the crisp autumn air. The wind outside had died down. A faint squeaking of bats was noticeable in the background. I kept going.

Thirty-five. I had developed an unbroken rhythm. I went up and up. Forgetting everything, focusing only on taking one step at a time. The ringing of the churchbells matched the heartbeat of my footsteps.

Forty-nine. I stopped. An abundance of pain overwhelmed me. Only one more floor. I just had to shine the flashlight out the window and I could finally go home.

But inside the hotel, I heard a door shut. I went out of the staircase.

Something was there; out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head. Something slipped into the room at the end of the hallway. I begged myself not to go. But a force pulled me closer, pulled me away from my sanity. In just a moment, I was standing in front of the cracked door. I peered through what I could see. Nothing was there. I opened the door. The first thing I noticed was blood.

Everywhere.

The walls were crying. The blood came down thick and scarlet.

This can’t be real.

Then, I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t see. Everything around me seemed to be closing in. My breathing grew faster and faster until I was gasping for air. But no one was there to help me. All I could feel was pain.

The ringing stopped. I opened my eyes to see no blood. The walls were normal again. All I knew is that I had to get out. I turned around to see that the door was shut. I knew it was locked before I even pulled it.

To my left, I noticed the bathroom door swinging silently open, inviting me inside. To my surprise, no one was there. I glanced in the mirror at my rugged appearance. I took four long, deep breaths in, and held to a count of five before releasing again. Breathe in… breath out.

I looked around with wide, frightened eyes. In the mirror, I saw movement. I shined my light. A young woman appeared behind me. She had hung herself. Her pale face and beady eyes stared back at mine.

I whipped around. No one. I faced the mirror again. She was gone. The noose was still hung on the wall. Blood dripped from the rope. But no woman.

“Join us…” A whisper pleaded. It echoed throughout the strange hotel. In a dark corner of the room, something stirred. There I saw a faint silhouette of some entity. The figure fell to the ground. A cold, calloused hand reached out and grabbed the walls, ripping the wallpaper. It tore, revealing tick marks, counting down the days….

The woman lunged. I screamed. Blood spewed out of her mouth as she screamed with me. I was horrified. I turned around, fully prepared to defend myself. What I realized caused me to fall back in terror. Terror which only came from the fear of the unknown, the fear of losing one’s mind. There was no woman, no noose. The room was as dark and as lonely as ever. The wallpaper hadn’t been torn. I still felt the chilling sense of her presence.

This room was wrong. This hotel was wrong.

“I have to get out of here” I whispered.

There was now a man standing on the open window. His eyes were full of sadness, full of sorrow. Yet his face was overjoyed. He grinned. An evil, monstrous grin. Then, he fell back. Surrendered into the misty air. I drew in a quick breath. I banged on the door. I screamed until my voice gave out. My dry lips pleaded again and again. All hope seemed to have been lost down a deep, endless hole.

I closed my eyes. As I did, I heard a click of a lock. The door swung open. I ran out to greet whoever let me out of this trap. But the neverending hallway was empty.

Without glancing back, I sprinted back to the staircase. I went down. And down. At some point, I stopped, curious about how close I was to escape. I peered at the number engraved above the door.

Floor 49.

No way.

I almost tumbled down the stairs as I ran down to the next level. Floor 49. I ran up, hoping there was some possible explanation.

Floor 49.

I couldn’t believe this.

Then, there came a knock on the door to the hallway.

I opened the door. Beyond, I saw the room I was in. The room I thought I would never have to face again. I entered it again.

Insanity. They say it’s doing the same thing, again and again, and expecting different results. But really it’s knowing that whatever you do, the results will never ever change. Each door leads to the same staircase, to the same number. It's not knowing whether you've been running for days or weeks or years. It's when the sobbing slowly turns into laughter.

I looked inside the room. Nothing was there. I sat down in front of the wallpaper. I tore it back. And carved a single line with my nail.

I wonder how long I will last.