"Henry! What do you think?!"
Elena asked excitedly, twirling around in her red dress, ready to go out.
Henry looked up from his phone and stared at her silently for a long moment, his expression unreadable.
"Isn't it too tight?"
His tone wasn't really excited.
"Is it?"
Elena muttered quietly, her expression dropping into one of exhaustion and disappointment before looking down at her dress with doubt.
"People are going to stare, Elena."
He sighed.
"But you're with me, and I'm your wife…"
she said, her tone resigned.
"I know, but I get jealous."
Henry said, firm.
Elena opened her mouth as if to say something, but shut it again, already undressing before suddenly feeling a hug from behind.
"You look beautiful, by the way. That's what I think."
Henry whispered softly into her ear, making her smile.
Henry was now walking, the bar still stretching, the hallway foggy and quiet, his steps echoing.
"I can leave… but without Elena… hm…"
he whispered to himself, deep in thought, but his thoughts were quickly interrupted by him stepping on a piece of paper.
"Huh?"
He stopped in his tracks, bending down to grab the paper. It was a note.
"What is that?"
He picked up the note. It was a worn-out piece of paper. The handwriting was bad and rushed. He started reading:
"I was in my room having sex, I was loving it. But suddenly we heard a loud screaming coming from downstairs. A woman screaming as if she was getting tortured. Then the girl I was fucking died for no fucking reason. As I'm writing this, I'm sitting in the corner and shaking. I hear footsteps, heavy ones opening every fucking door. And I'm just waiting for my damn turn. I can't get up. I just can't. This is the end for me. Fuck this, I might as well take my own life."
Henry stared at the note silently, his heart pounding.
He looked to the side and found a hotel room door. It had bloodstains on it. He approached the door and opened it.
"What is this place…?"
Henry asked, exhausted and confused.
It wasn't a room. It was a huge set of stairs leading to God knows where. Well lit, but there were dead naked bodies—all male and headless. They all shared the same wound right below the lungs, as if they got pierced.
Henry took a few steps down and just stood there, staring all around. His heart calmed for some reason before continuing.
After a few steps, he heard chanting.
It was Elena's voice—but many of her. Chanting, humming. It was simply heavenly.
Henry froze.
"Elena? My love? Are you here?"
He called out desperately.
The chanting continued, warm and loving.
He kept taking the stairs, his eyes watering at the voice. It was coming from everywhere.
He almost tripped over a dead body but quickly regained his balance. His steps were muffled by the lovely voice, soothing his heart.
"Elena… I will find you… I promise. Just wait for me."
After a long time going down—Henry taking his time, even pausing sometimes—he reached the end.
It was a normal door.
The chanting and humming stopped.
It was now completely silent.
Henry sighed as he opened the door, exhausted.
It was foggy again. Cold again. But this time it was a normal floor, not an endless hallway full of doors. It was a classic-style floor, not the same hotel he entered.
He started trying to open doors, but they were all locked.
"Elena isn't here…"
he said, resigned, leaning against the wall, catching his breath.
He could hear the faint sound of something slimy moving around.
"That's not real. These things aren't real, Henry. You're okay. You'll be okay."
He comforted himself, his voice shaking.
He looked in front of him and found another note sticking on the wall. He approached it and grabbed it, his hands shaking as the noise became clearer.
He started reading. It was the same handwriting:
"Day 6. Me and 3 hotel staff are trapped in this room. There's a dead man in front of me. He thought he could fight it. He thought… his head is cut off now. He couldn't fight it. Nobody could. And I don't think anybody will ever be able to fight this thing. We started to call it Heavy Leg. His footsteps are so heavy and loud that I can hear them from so far away. He also drags an axe… his voice is so deep and terrifying… I'm going fucking insane. There are ropes in the drawers. Maybe it's a sign."
Henry looked at the note with a perplexed expression.
"Heavy leg…"
he repeated silently.
He quickly snapped back to reality as the crawling, slimy sounds grew stronger and stronger.
He pulled out the knife, realizing that the creature was in front of him, hidden in the fog. There was a muffled sobbing sound.
"Whatever you are… come out…"
He took a defensive stance.
A weird-looking creature emerged from the fog. It was a rectangular, plump, solid, slimy blob of that same disgusting liquid, with spikes moving around inside, trying to poke their way out. It had nothing but a mouth—with no teeth and no lips—just a tongue.
"Stay the hell back!"
It continued crawling mindlessly, muffled sobs coming from inside the creature.
Suddenly, it stopped and rolled onto its back, its mouth facing the ceiling.
Immediately, its tongue stretched so long that it wrapped around Henry's arm and pulled him powerfully toward it.
"Agh—what?! Stop! Fuck!"
Henry protested, but nothing worked.
His hand was pulled into the creature's mouth, and Henry let out a loud scream of pain.
"Stop, stop!!"
A spike pierced through Henry's hand painfully and desperately.
Henry yelled loudly as he started stabbing the creature wildly with his other hand, both of them screaming in pain.
"Damn you!"
Henry swung and stabbed it deep near its mouth, dragging the knife and making a huge cut on the creature.
It screamed, and another spike pierced through Henry's hand. He screamed more.
After many, many stabs, the monster finally stopped moving—yet the spikes remained through Henry's hand.
"Oh God… dammit…"
He grunted in pain as he reached with his other hand to pull out the spikes.
After finally pulling them out, he pulled both of his hands free, sitting on the ground, staring at his wounded and bloodied hand, breathing heavily.
"This isn't real… this isn't real… yes… yes…"
His moment of rest was quickly disturbed by the sound of another one of these creatures…
…and then another one from behind.
Sobbing.
Crawling.