I was surprised by the face that met my eyes. The face was that of the man with the cane from my stolen painting. He had dark hair and blue eyes. He was wearing a black jacket with a T-shirt underneath it. His hair was, well, technically a mess. Short, wild hair. 'Can I help you with that?' He repeated his question. I must've been taking my time looking at him. I snapped back into reality. 'Yes, please.' I said. He took the drill from my hand. He examined it. 'Hmm... I'm pretty sure there's something jamming the motor.' He said. He took out a screwdriver from his jacket pocket. 'I always come prepared.' He explained. He removed the screws. He lifted the cover and looked inside the small opening. 'Here's your problem.' He said. 'One of the screws came loose and got stuck in the gears.' He explained. He reached his hand into the opening and pulled out a small screw...
Note from author: I've got writer's block. Gonna take a while to get over. Anyone interested in finishing this story can help finish it.
Showing posts with label Horror Tales From Room 333. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Horror Tales From Room 333. Show all posts
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Friday, December 24, 2010
What Do You See?
I stare hard at the painting in the antiques shop. I was looking at an exquisite portrait of a man holding a cane in his left hand. I read the price tab. Surprised, I read it again. 'Excuse me, sir!' I called out to the store manager. He walked toward me. 'Yes, miss Ravens? What is it you would like to purchase?' Said the man. 'Is this painting really selling for only 5.00$?' I asked him. 'Yes, it is.' He said. 'Why?' I asked. He was quiet for a minute. Then he said, 'The painter of that painting demanded that this particular work of art be sold for the cheapest price we could offer before he passed away. I had thought that I should respect his wishes. He lived at an apartment in town in room 333.' Said the man. 'I know. I live there now.' I said. 'Would you like to buy it?' He asked. I thought for a moment. 'Is it authentic?' I asked him. 'See for yourself.' He said. I looked closely at the painting. It did look like a real painting. A well painted one at that. The canvas seemed to be real and not made of some kind of plastic. The texture was that of a standard painting. The brushstrokes were present and indicated that the artist payed close attention to every stroke of the brush. The frame was made of what appeared to be made of polished mahogany wood. There was a very fine line of text at the bottom of the painting. I studied it closely. It read, 'What do you see?'. The painting looked authentic enough. 'I'll take it.'
My name is Isabel Ravens. I'm an art collector. I collect and sell fine artworks to art galleries and museums. God, I should've known the painting was a thing to stay away from.
I moved in to apartment 333. I was curious about the painting that originated from here. I took it out from my car and hung it in the apartment. As I put it up on the wall, my eyes came across the line of text on the bottom of the artwork. 'What do you see?'. I half smiled at the question. I see a picture of a man with a cane. Nothing else. Then, I noticed a change in the painting. The figure was now holding the cane in his right hand. Curious, I studied the painting once more. The same attentiveness toward each brushstroke was unchanged. The only change was the image itself. Had I imagined the cane to be in the figure's left hand while I was in the store? Probably. I disclosed the change as a figment of my imagination. I was soon to find out how wrong I was.
That night,
I was reading a copy of a book called Crescendo, written by Becca Fitzpatrick. I was in my room, about to sleep. Then, I heard a noise. A soft scratching sound on the floor boards. I thought it to be an intruder for a moment. But then again, it could be my dog. I got back to reading. Then, I hear the scratching again. I ignored it. Then, I smelled burning wood. I got out of bed and opened the door. A fire was burning on the floor. 'Fire!' I shouted. I frantically searched for a glass of water. I ran toward the kitchen and filled a jug with water. I carried the jug toward the fire and poured its contents onto the fire. The fire went out. Then, I saw the burn marks left on the floor. They formed a message. 'STAY OUT OF 333.' It read.
I woke up next morning finding out that I had overslept. I got dressed and hesded towrd the living room when I noticed the painting. 'What do you see?' I asked myself. 'A painting.' I answered my own question. Then I noticed something else about the painting. It changed. It was as if the man was painted to look see through in the painting. That wasn't present before. I shrugged and left the apartment.
When I came back, the painting had changed entirely. The man in the painting was gone.
My name is Isabel Ravens. I'm an art collector. I collect and sell fine artworks to art galleries and museums. God, I should've known the painting was a thing to stay away from.
I moved in to apartment 333. I was curious about the painting that originated from here. I took it out from my car and hung it in the apartment. As I put it up on the wall, my eyes came across the line of text on the bottom of the artwork. 'What do you see?'. I half smiled at the question. I see a picture of a man with a cane. Nothing else. Then, I noticed a change in the painting. The figure was now holding the cane in his right hand. Curious, I studied the painting once more. The same attentiveness toward each brushstroke was unchanged. The only change was the image itself. Had I imagined the cane to be in the figure's left hand while I was in the store? Probably. I disclosed the change as a figment of my imagination. I was soon to find out how wrong I was.
That night,
I was reading a copy of a book called Crescendo, written by Becca Fitzpatrick. I was in my room, about to sleep. Then, I heard a noise. A soft scratching sound on the floor boards. I thought it to be an intruder for a moment. But then again, it could be my dog. I got back to reading. Then, I hear the scratching again. I ignored it. Then, I smelled burning wood. I got out of bed and opened the door. A fire was burning on the floor. 'Fire!' I shouted. I frantically searched for a glass of water. I ran toward the kitchen and filled a jug with water. I carried the jug toward the fire and poured its contents onto the fire. The fire went out. Then, I saw the burn marks left on the floor. They formed a message. 'STAY OUT OF 333.' It read.
I woke up next morning finding out that I had overslept. I got dressed and hesded towrd the living room when I noticed the painting. 'What do you see?' I asked myself. 'A painting.' I answered my own question. Then I noticed something else about the painting. It changed. It was as if the man was painted to look see through in the painting. That wasn't present before. I shrugged and left the apartment.
When I came back, the painting had changed entirely. The man in the painting was gone.
* * *
I'm still searching for the painting. Obviously, the painting that I discovered previously was planted by a thief. The original must've been stolen. I changed the locks on the apartment. Hopefully the thief will be caught. I was trying to install another lock, but I was having trouble with the drill. 'Need some help with that?' Said a friendly voice from behind me. I spun around. I was surprised by the face that met my eyes.
To be continued...
Next: I See...
To be continued...
Next: I See...
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Welcome To My Nightmares
The flames...They're everywhere. No place to run. No place to hide. The heat is settling in...A true nightmare this is. My death in flames...
I awaken. A nightmare. The flames...Gone. A mere nightmare. I climb out of bed. Everything's dark. Pitch black. The walls were bare. The window is open, but no stars shine. The moon, out of sight. How did I get here? I walked toward the door.
I awaken again. Strange. Had I dreamt of being awake? Maybe. The same room. The same darkness. I slip out of bed and head toward the door. I notice one difference between my dream and now. The wall has a clock. I reach for the doorknob.
Once again I awaken. Another nightmare. The darkness remains. The clock still there. Then I see a portrait. Strange. Different from my dream. The portrait was that of a man wearing glasses holding a cane. I climb out of bed. I was about to head toward the door. Then, I decided to look out the window. I lean out and feel a knife pierce my back.
I awaken in cold sweat. I breathed heavily. Realising that what I experienced was a nightmare, I scanned the room. The clock, the window, the door, the portrait. And another change. The portrait has changed into that of a hunter with a rifle. And a bedside table is present in the room. I open the drawers and find a gun and a note. I read the note. Typed on a typewriter on the note were the words, 'TURN AROUND'. I turned, and an axe met my face.
I awaken. This time, I was stricken with pure fear. I open the drawer of my bedside table and pull out the gun. I scan the room for a light switch. I find one. The portrait changed again. It was a portrait of a man sitting on a chair holding a pocket watch. I walk toward the light switch and turn on the light. Damn this room. There was a switch but no light bulb. I squint in the darkness. Then I notice the door. three numbers were painted on it. 333. Then, I felt a rope go around my neck.
I awaken. The light is on. I scan the room. To my bewilderment, I find the portrait blank. Then, on the clock, written in blood were the numbers 333. The walls...covered in blood stains. Then, I see three men in the room with me. The man with the cane, the hunter and the man with the pocket watch were in the room. they held different objects in their hands. The first had a knife, the second had an axe and the third had a rope. They all walked toward me, their weapons raised...
I awaken. A nightmare. The flames...Gone. A mere nightmare. I climb out of bed. Everything's dark. Pitch black. The walls were bare. The window is open, but no stars shine. The moon, out of sight. How did I get here? I walked toward the door.
I awaken again. Strange. Had I dreamt of being awake? Maybe. The same room. The same darkness. I slip out of bed and head toward the door. I notice one difference between my dream and now. The wall has a clock. I reach for the doorknob.
Once again I awaken. Another nightmare. The darkness remains. The clock still there. Then I see a portrait. Strange. Different from my dream. The portrait was that of a man wearing glasses holding a cane. I climb out of bed. I was about to head toward the door. Then, I decided to look out the window. I lean out and feel a knife pierce my back.
I awaken in cold sweat. I breathed heavily. Realising that what I experienced was a nightmare, I scanned the room. The clock, the window, the door, the portrait. And another change. The portrait has changed into that of a hunter with a rifle. And a bedside table is present in the room. I open the drawers and find a gun and a note. I read the note. Typed on a typewriter on the note were the words, 'TURN AROUND'. I turned, and an axe met my face.
I awaken. This time, I was stricken with pure fear. I open the drawer of my bedside table and pull out the gun. I scan the room for a light switch. I find one. The portrait changed again. It was a portrait of a man sitting on a chair holding a pocket watch. I walk toward the light switch and turn on the light. Damn this room. There was a switch but no light bulb. I squint in the darkness. Then I notice the door. three numbers were painted on it. 333. Then, I felt a rope go around my neck.
I awaken. The light is on. I scan the room. To my bewilderment, I find the portrait blank. Then, on the clock, written in blood were the numbers 333. The walls...covered in blood stains. Then, I see three men in the room with me. The man with the cane, the hunter and the man with the pocket watch were in the room. they held different objects in their hands. The first had a knife, the second had an axe and the third had a rope. They all walked toward me, their weapons raised...
Room 333.
I awaken from a terrifying nightmare. The bedsheets, tangled at my feet. I sighed. I just can't sleep well in this hotel room. My name is Angela Deth. A few days ago, I practically went mad with stress at work. My boss told me to take a vacation. I decided to stay at a hotel in Australia. The hotel's name was Bullet Hotel. I rented room 333. At first I was all up for this vacation thing. But when I got here I got second thoughts. The manager was acting very strange. He kept avoiding some of my questions that I asked him. The hotel looked okay but I still had my doubts. I got up from my bed and looked at the wall clock. 3.33 a.m. I walked toward the light switch and turned on the lights. I wasn't feeling tired, so I decided to watch TV instead. I sat on a sofa in front of the TV and took the remote. I pushed the 'on' button. Static filled the screen. I groaned. I turned off the TV. The hotel room had a selection of books in it placed on a book shelf. I took out a book and read the title. Oh look, a classic. I put it back. I took out another book and opened it. A piece of paper fell out from the pages. I picked it up. It was a small piece of paper with some words typed onto it. I thought that it must've been a piece of the page. But upon closer inspection, I discovered it was not. I read the words, 'book number 333.' on the paper. I studied it again. Not from the book. I looked at the book shelf. I silently counted the number of books. There were 332. I decided to put this mystery to rest and went to my bed. I sat down, and felt a lump under the mattress. I looked under the mattress and found a black book. '333.' I said to myself. I opened it and read.
PAGE 1
Dear reader,
If you've found this book in the police station, close it immediately. If you've found this in room 333, read on. Listen carefully, valued reader. After reading this book, you must burn it and scatter the ashes in the desert sands outside. Check the door. Is it locked from the outside?
Curiously, I walked toward the door and turned the knob. it was locked from the outside. Puzzled, I tugged on the door. It wouldn't budge. I kept reading.
Locked? I thought so. The window's probably nailed shut. Why don't you check it out. I doubt it's easy to open.
I walked toward the window. Nails were hammered into the frame so it wouldn't budge. I was starting to feel concerned.
Don't panic. This isn't the worst part.
This must be a coincidence.
Oh, and in case you're wondering, this is no coincidence. Yes, it's weird, but read on.
PAGE 2
This room you're in is a bad place. Look around. There are 333 books in this room, 333 cracks in the window, 333 numbers in this book and 333 people were murdered here.
I jumped at the last line. Murdered?
You have to get out of here. Fast. You may be HIS next victim. I was a survivor of HIS that escaped this room. But it was hard. I've left behind this book to ensure that the next occupant survives. First of all, I left behind a can of hairspray and a lighter under the mattress. Arm yourself against HIM. I also left a cro-bar under the fridge. Get it, and pry the door or window open. The door is easy to pry open but it'll take a while for you to find the exit. I advise you to go through the window.
I went toward the mattress and pulled out the hairspray and lighter. Then I walked toward the fridge and took the cro-bar. I tried prying the window open.
Be careful not to make any noise. HE might hear you.
The window flew open. and so did the door. The manager stood in the door way holding a knife. 'Oh no. You're not getting away alive.' He growled. He lunged forward. I leaped out the window, but the manager got a grip on my leg. 'The only way you're getting out is in a body bag!' He said. I struggled to free my leg from his grip. I took out the hairspray and the lighter. I held the lighter in front of the hairspray nozzle. I lit the lighter and pushed down on the hairspray nozzle. The spray caught fire from the lighter and the can became a flamethrower. I burned his hand. He yelled in pain. He let go of my leg. I took the opportunity to run away from the room. I had the book in my hand. A police car stopped by the road. I stopped it and climbed into the car. I told the policeman about the manager. He told me to relax and let him handle the matter. I was relieved until I read the next line in the book.
PAGE 3
If you think HE is the manager, you're wrong. HE is the policeman.
END.
PAGE 1
Dear reader,
If you've found this book in the police station, close it immediately. If you've found this in room 333, read on. Listen carefully, valued reader. After reading this book, you must burn it and scatter the ashes in the desert sands outside. Check the door. Is it locked from the outside?
Curiously, I walked toward the door and turned the knob. it was locked from the outside. Puzzled, I tugged on the door. It wouldn't budge. I kept reading.
Locked? I thought so. The window's probably nailed shut. Why don't you check it out. I doubt it's easy to open.
I walked toward the window. Nails were hammered into the frame so it wouldn't budge. I was starting to feel concerned.
Don't panic. This isn't the worst part.
This must be a coincidence.
Oh, and in case you're wondering, this is no coincidence. Yes, it's weird, but read on.
PAGE 2
This room you're in is a bad place. Look around. There are 333 books in this room, 333 cracks in the window, 333 numbers in this book and 333 people were murdered here.
I jumped at the last line. Murdered?
You have to get out of here. Fast. You may be HIS next victim. I was a survivor of HIS that escaped this room. But it was hard. I've left behind this book to ensure that the next occupant survives. First of all, I left behind a can of hairspray and a lighter under the mattress. Arm yourself against HIM. I also left a cro-bar under the fridge. Get it, and pry the door or window open. The door is easy to pry open but it'll take a while for you to find the exit. I advise you to go through the window.
I went toward the mattress and pulled out the hairspray and lighter. Then I walked toward the fridge and took the cro-bar. I tried prying the window open.
Be careful not to make any noise. HE might hear you.
The window flew open. and so did the door. The manager stood in the door way holding a knife. 'Oh no. You're not getting away alive.' He growled. He lunged forward. I leaped out the window, but the manager got a grip on my leg. 'The only way you're getting out is in a body bag!' He said. I struggled to free my leg from his grip. I took out the hairspray and the lighter. I held the lighter in front of the hairspray nozzle. I lit the lighter and pushed down on the hairspray nozzle. The spray caught fire from the lighter and the can became a flamethrower. I burned his hand. He yelled in pain. He let go of my leg. I took the opportunity to run away from the room. I had the book in my hand. A police car stopped by the road. I stopped it and climbed into the car. I told the policeman about the manager. He told me to relax and let him handle the matter. I was relieved until I read the next line in the book.
PAGE 3
If you think HE is the manager, you're wrong. HE is the policeman.
END.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)