HAUNTED HOTEL

ByEvian Keen

“Play with me,” she says, her laughter echoing. She leans back, halfway out the open window, cotton tendrils hanging from her pallid form. Her hand slips. Gone. A chill runs down my spine.

I rush over to see. Press my hands against the window frame. The tenth floor has the best view, until you look down.  Stomach reeling. Colors haze, bending cityscape. Steadying.

Only bare bricks visible. Above me, tapping sounds. She’s dancing on the rooftop. Circling around, along the edge, she falls. “Plaaaaay.” She grabs my arm. Spiraling. We shatter on sudden impact.

Her laughter echoes again from above.

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