Hey guys.
Last week, my uncle took me and my two best friends (Marty and Sarah) on a fishing trip in Florida for my birthday. It was a complete surprise for me, since my uncle hasn’t ever fished with me since I was 12 (I’m 16 now) because he’s been busy with “work.” Always work.
Sorry; I’m starting to ramble on.
Anyways, a week after my birthday, the four of us all got into a plane and flew down to Florida. We arrived in Miami at four in the afternoon, got dinner, and drove down to the Keys where we checked into a hotel called the Sandy Shores Inn. It was quite a depressing place on the outside: there were holes in the windows covered with Scotch tape. In addition, the paint was peeling, and dead plants were scattered about the parking lot, which had a total of one car in it: ours. We nervously walked through the decaying door and arrived in a lobby that smelled like mold and was lit by a single candle. To the right was a rotting, gold-plated staircase. There was a rug with a couple old and incredibly dusty chairs to our left. Paint was peeling off the walls, which were marked with some really weird symbols. One featured a circle with an arrow through it; another was a triangle with five human heads surrounding it.
At this point, Sarah seemed ready to leave, but Marty and I quickly silenced her. What if we couldn’t find somewhere else to stay? This was the trip of a lifetime for me! Besides, it would be fine.
Wouldn’t it?
All of the sudden, an old, balding man seemingly appeared out of thin air and smiled a almost-toothless grin that highlighted his single golden tooth that was filed to a vicious point. He was fairly short but strongly built with wisps of whitish hair on his forehead. He wore old-fashioned clothes, not unusual for a person his age.
“Welcome, welcome my friends!” he exclaimed. “It’s been so long... So, so long...” he continued as he approached us and gave my uncle a hug and slapped Marty and I on the back. “A room for four... I can do that. Oh, yes, guests at last!” He began trotting up the decrepit staircase and waved us up.
After exchanging a few nervous glances, we followed the old man up the decrepit stairwell and hoped that it wouldn’t collapse under our weight.
The old man took us to our room, introduced himself as Jeff, and went through the normal warnings and curfew information. Don’t leave the room after 9PM, don’t smoke in the room, don’t leave the room before 7AM, etc. After he left, I collapsed on one of the surprisingly comfortable lower bunks. Marty claimed the bunk above me. In the other bunk bed, my uncle Ralph slept on the bottom and Sarah was left with the top bunk.
The room was actually really nice. It was clean, well-kept, well decorated (though pretty old-fashioned), and comfortable. Other than the two bunk racks on the right wall, there was a nice little balcony and a small sitting area. Not bad for $50 a night. The appearance of the parking lot and lobby must be keeping everyone else at bay, I thought as I texted my Mom to let her know that I was not dead yet before rolling over and falling asleep, even though it was only 9.
I had a very strange dream that night. There were whispers circling around me. Shadows crept along the walls, seemingly searching for a way into my soul. And the heads. Yes. Human heads rolled across the floor. They wore masks, and the motionless, dull eyes seemed to stare into me. Out of the eye sockets, I could see trails of half-dried blood mixed with eye goo. The bones crunched and I watched dry, blood-caked skin flake off of the skulls onto the floor.
I woke up at just after seven in a cold sweat. I could barely open my eyes, but when I finally saw that there was nothing to fear, I then turned my attention to how sick my mind must have been to dream up human heads rolling across the floor. I laughed at myself and tried to fall back asleep, but I couldn’t. So I picked up my phone to do a little early-morning Redditing.
After a few minutes, I heard Marty getting ready to climb down from his bunk. It was almost time to leave for our fishing charter! An hour later, the four of us left our room and walked down the stairs to the disgusting lobby. It was completely empty except for Jeff, who was repainting the wall symbols and whistling merrily.
“Sleep well friends?” he called. After we nodded our heads, he continued, “I knew you could do it. Very good specimens, you are... Oh yeah, uh, Russ, Rin, whatever your name is...”
“Ron,” I offered.
“Yeah, whatever that is, do you think you could help me paint tomorrow morning? I daresay you’ll have plenty of extra time. Lots and lots of time,” Jeff chuckled.
“I guess,” I replied, not really knowing what to say.
“Oh, you will, you will,” he said ominously.
“Well, that was odd,” I told my uncle and friends after we exited the lobby.
Uncle Ralph said, “It won’t be too much of a problem to help an old man out, right Ron? It’s a bit odd, but he’s nice enough.”
I reluctantly agreed as we stepped into our rental car and sped off to meet our charter.
The boat, named Get Reel, was a yacht. Forty feet long. Giant livewells. Refrigerators. Air conditioning for when the fish weren’t biting. It was an impressive sight, especially for this teenager who’s only been on a 16-footer. The captain, Donny, was as proud of her as he should have been. “Majestic, ain’t she?” he lovingly told us as we boarded the yacht in awe. We cast off from the dock and headed out to the fishing grounds.
After an absolutely awesome day of fishing and a delicious meal made of the fish we caught, the four of us returned to the Sandy Shores Inn as darkness began to fall. As we strolled into the lobby, I noticed the symbols on the wall were shining brightly from Jeff’s painting. He quickly saw us and ushered us to our room for the night. It was only 8PM, but we were pretty exhausted. Even though we wanted to get a good sleep before going out again the next day, Marty and I decided to play a few rounds of Uno until almost nine o’clock, when my uncle finally decided we needed to get some sleep to prepare for our next fishing expedition.
That night, I had nearly the same nightmares as I did the night before. They were a bit less intense, but there were still shadows lurking to feast upon me. Heads rolled. Whispers swirled through the air, beckoning me to join them. I awoke to a scream at around 6:30. It was Sarah.
“Sarah? Sarah! What’s wrong?” I asked her.
“Ron, Ron, I’m s-so so-sorry. I had this n-nightmare. A-and there were these, these weird heads. And the whispers. Oh th-the w-whispers. They-they wanted me to j-join them. I-I’m so sorry I woke you.”
“Wait. You had a nightmare about heads, whispers, and shadows.”
“Y-yes. I know it’s s-silly.”
“I had the same nightmare, Sarah.”
All our talking apparently woke my Uncle Ralph and Marty. Bleary-eyed, they looked around to see what the racket was. I explained that both Sarah had had a nightmare, and we then realized that I had had the same one.
My uncle was instantly awake and alert. “Sarah, is this true?”
“Yes,” she responded.
“We need to get the hell out of here. NOW!” Uncle Ralph bellowed. “GO! GO! GO! LEAVE EVERYTHING!”
Startled, Sarah, Marty, and I leaped out of our beds in surprise and my uncle practically shoved us toward the door. But it didn’t open.
We began to bang on the door, but it was still stuck. Sarah grabbed her cellphone and attempted to call the inn; the call didn’t go through.
Finally, after nearly 20 minutes of pounding, the door suddenly swung open like nothing had happened. We stumbled out and were all a bit stunned until Uncle Ralph shook us out of our stupor by yelling, “GO!”
We all ran down the hall and down the staircase at once until we came to the lobby door. It was locked. Furthermore, we couldn’t even reach out of taped-up holes in the windows. It was like there was some impenetrable barrier around the building. All of the sudden, we heard heavy breathing behind us. It got closer and closer and closer until...
“Well, well, well. Oh yes, you’ll be here for a while!” Jeff cackled from behind us.
The four of us whirled around in unison to find the old man standing right behind us, smiling his creepy smile. “Oh, yes. I think it’s time for a replacement!” he sang.
I had absolutely no clue what was going on, and neither did my friends. However, from the look on my uncle’s face, he had an idea. I would have to ask him what was happening... After we got away from Mr. Creepy.
“Oh, yes, Rinny, you’ll make a splendid caretaker! Now come, come; we’ve work to do! Let’s PAINT!”
I looked at my uncle. He looked at me. I sighed; for now, it was probably in my best interests to cooperate with Jeff. I followed him to the wall where he was already setting up his painting supplies.
“Now Rum, this painting is special. It must be done every morning when you wake up, or you will die. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!”
“Y-yes, Jeff. Yes. I-I completely understand,” I managed. Please don’t kill me. Please.
“Good.”
I took a look at the wall of symbols. Even though they had just been painted yesterday, they easily looked fifty years old. Jeff told me to begin painting the symbols with his white paint so that they were perfect again. I painted the weird triangle-with-heads. There was also the circle with the arrow through it. And there were some more I hadn’t seen before: a pineapple with a hole in it and a really creepy face mask.
Every brush stroke I was forced to paint was physically exhausting. After touching up just one symbol, I was ready to pass out. I felt like an old man! And folks, I’m by no means out of shape. I fish every weekend, and I’m on my high school football team. Why was painting tiring me so much? After the second symbol (the circle one), I passed out. The last thing I heard was Jeff sighing and saying, “Well, that’s enough progress for today.”
I woke up in the late afternoon with a large glass of water and a plate of chicken next to me.
“Eat!” Jeff commanded from my left. I looked up and saw that he had completed painting the other two symbols. “Don’t just stare! Eat the food. It’ll replenish your energy,” the old man instructed. As soon as I downed the water and took a few bites of chicken, I felt so much better.
“Better?” Jeff asked me. “You might as well go to sleep after you finish eating. Tomorrow will be just like this.”
“Why? Why can’t you just let me free?” I asked. He was being surprisingly nice to me for someone who had imprisoned my friends and uncle.
“That is for you to know in due time. Things cannot be rushed, oh no. They cannot. Off to bed now, Rummy!”
I write this to you right now as the sun is setting. It’s going to be 9PM soon. I’m scared. Of the night and of what tomorrow may bring. Please, somebody, help me.
Submitted July 12, 2017 at 04:51AM by talesfromflorida http://ift.tt/2tGFIBP nosleep
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