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 The Body in the Bed 

By Abigail Day 



The wind ruffled through the trees making the branches creak and sway. Rain spat down onto the roof tiles of the Draak Hotel, and ran down the walls and drains onto the muddy pavement below. There was a flash of lightening, and an answering rumble of thunder overhead.

Dim headlights shone through the dense fog, as a red ford fiesta came into view splashing up the driveway through the majestic wrought iron gates. The car stopped outside the hotel. There was a sound of a door slamming and a pattering of feet as the driver rushed for shelter in the warmth of the Draak Hotel.

“Good evening” came an eerie voice from behind the desk. “How may I help you?”
“I would like a room, please!” replied the quiet, stuttering voice of a middle aged man.
“Of course sir” the voice behind the desk hissed. “A room for two”.
The man looked at the receptionist, confused. “No, only one, there’s only me”
“Yes, that’s what I said” the voice replied. “Morticia, take these bags please”

A thin young woman with short black hair and dark eyes appeared through a doorway.
“She can’t carry my bags! She’s too young and not strong enough!” the man protested.
“Of course I can carry these bags” morticia said, frowning ominously and the man stared in amazement as she lifted the two large suitcases without breaking a sweat.
“Which room sir?” she asked the receptionist, coldly.
“666” the receptionist replied. Morticia hesitated, before she turned and carried the cases up the thin, creaky staircase.

“666?” the man asked.
“666” the receptionist answered callously. The man shuddered.
“up the stairs, along the hall, third door on the left” came the voice of morticia behind him.
“thank you” the man replied before he made his way up the old wooden staircase, lit only here and there by flickering oil lamps.

He strode along the hall, his black shoes clicking on the bare wooden floor. Third door on the left he thought as he counted. One......two.....there were no more oil lamps to light the dark, ghostly passageway ahead. The man gulped and pulled his black blazer around himself for comfort.

He stepped into the darkness and felt a sudden chill that sent shivers down his spine. Ahead, a large window lit up the door to his room with phantasmal moonlight. The man stepped stiffly forwards into the eerie light and shifted to the door.

The key was in the lock, and written on the door in large gold lettering was ‘666’. He turned the freezing key and the door swung open to reveal a plush room swamped in moonlight gleaming lustrously through an enormous bay window.

On the large bed lay his suitcases. He flung the larger one open and put on his nightclothes, before pushing the suitcases off his bed and laying down. He fell into deep sleep.



***



Miss smith drove up the driveway to the Draak Hotel. She slammed the car door and opened the boot to pull her light suitcase out, then shut the boot and marched up to the reception desk.

“Good morning miss” the receptionist wheezed.
“Good morning sir” Miss Smith replied firmly. “May I have a room, please?”
“Yes, of course” the receptionist answered. “Though I am afraid we only have room 666 free”.

Miss smith did not gulp, or shudder or even argue. She simply smiled and said: “well I’d better take it before anyone else gets to it first”.

“Morticia!” the receptionist called. Morticia appeared through the doorway that led to the stairs.
“Yes sir?” she put on her sweetest voice.
“Take this woman’s luggage to room 666” the receptionist ordered.
“Ok...” morticia answered. “But...”
“No buts morticia, just do it”.
Morticia looked down, then took the bag and plodded slowly up the stairs.

“Are you quite sure she’ll be alright?” Miss smith enquired thoughtfully.
“Oh yes” the receptionist answered. “She’s just a bit grumpy today”
The woman nodded before turning to the stairs. “I’m going to go to my room now”
And she paced off up the narrow staircase.

Sunlight shone in through the large window and the numbers ‘666’ glimmered on the large brown door. miss smith walked up to the door and turned the key that morticia had left in the lock. The door opened and she was almost knocked back by a sudden burst of sunlight beaming through the huge bay window.

When she had got over the shock she stepped in and closed the door behind her. A pungent smell of rotting mingled in the air and Miss smith cringed in disgust. She wouldn’t be able to sleep at night with a smell as repulsive as this in the room.

Hastily she reached for the white hotel phone and called reception.

“hello?” the receptionist answered
“hello its Miss smith”
“Miss smith, what’s the problem?”
“well, there is a foul smell in my room” Miss smith complained. There was a pause from the other end of the line.
“i am very sorry Miss smith, i will send morticia up there at once to clean it”
“Thank you sir” Miss smith replied, relieved she wouldn’t have to put up with the smell.
“Oh, and while she is cleaning, please do enjoy a free meal at our restaurant”
Click. The call ended. Miss smith put the phone down, sauntered out of the room and locked the door. on the way down she passed morticia and they exchanged glances before continuing on their way.

The restaurant was a finely decorated room, which looked as if it was once a ballroom.
Miss smith was shown to her seat by a rather charming waiter and enjoyed a delicious meal of roast beef, potatoes and vegetables.

For dessert she ordered apple pie and custard, which was so warm and scrumptious she would have eaten it again had the restaurant not closed down to prepare for dinner.

So, slowly she made her way back to her room, to be met by the smell of cleaning chemicals. At least I know it wont make me sick now, she thought to herself as she changed into her nightdress and tucked up in bed. But at midnight she was awoken by the rotting smell again, and it was stronger than ever.

Desperately she set about to finding the cause of the smell. It was coming from the bed.

Hurriedly she pulled the sheets from the bed to reveal a huge tear in the mattress. It had stuffing spilling out and the smell was unbearable now.

Miss smith ripped the stuffing out and stood in shock and horror. Laying in the mattress was the body of a man, in his nightclothes, with a stab wound to his heart.
Stuffed in with him were two suitcases and a black blazer.

Shaking, Miss smith reached into the pocket of the blazer. Her fingers closed around a leather wallet. She pulled it out and opened it. A small picture fell out. She picked it up and peered at it. It was a picture of the man, smiling and laughing, holding hands with a beautiful woman and hugging two young children and on the back, written in his blood, was the words “was this not enough?”

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