the maid and the artist.
A man wakes up with one of the worst hangovers he's ever had, at least he thought it was a hangover, while he was coming into town he could clearly see that there wasn't a Catina around here for miles and he wouldn't dare touch the mini-bar. After thinking about how this could be he considered, "Maybe I went crazy and became a creature of the night, now that would seriously be funny." So he grabs some of his belongings and gets ready to leave this stinky, run-down, out in the middle of nowhere, hotel not a motel. As he feels his face for stubble, the man muttered under his voice, "Man I have to shave again, I just shaved yesterday, what in the" and as he walked towards the exit, he catches a glimpse of the moon through the window "Oh, what a pretty sight, a full moon a full moon is out tonight." The man continues to walk out of the door to use the floor's bathroom with razor in hand, but just when he exits his door he sees such a peculiar sight, the door down the hallway isn't on it's hinges, it looks as though it has been taken off and just leaned against the wall, "People these days no respect for nothin' that is not theirs, filth."
The newly clean shaven man arrives on the lobby floor to check out, himself knowing that there probably won't be anyone there at a quarter to four in the morning, but he's all for giving it a try anyways. While he makes his way down stairs, he can distinctly tell that no one is at the for the moment. This being the case, he decides he'll go take a stroll. So him being the only one there, he determined that the best thing to do now is to tag his bags himself and leave them behind the desk. Since the concierge isn't on duty that would also mean that the bellboy or doorman wouldn't be on duty, "There probably isn't even a friggin' bellboy anyways cheap friggin' hotel charging me eighty-five bucks a night for a place on the top floor, that has rooms that don't even have their own bath rooms or room service." The man refrains from yelling any longer after his thought about thinking that what he had just said was a little too loud, that it is also not even daylight and people are still trying to sleep The man has concluded that he'll leave now and come back later to properly pay, check out, pay and leave.
Around an hour and a half later later the concierge now emerges from his room, the room closest to the lobby, so that he wouldn't be bothered by the guests rustling about. He was supposed to be at the desk before five because he is supposed to greet the new maid today. "I'll just rely on the new girl to be late anyways," he thinks as he sits at the lobby desk. "Where did this ugly dusty luggage come from?" Slouching at his desk looking towards the front door he sees a cute young woman, probably only twenty something, approaching the door to his lobby, as he sees her he thinks, "Could this be the new maid?" "Maybe, I've only talked to her on the phone." "Hi" the woman in the maid's uniform exclaimed as she opened the door. "Are you the new maid?" The concierge questioned, "Yes, sir!!" Answered the maid. In all of this informality neither of them saw nor heard a visitor enter the room, as though he came in through the area under the door, "Hello, I'd like to check in." Uttered the young man. "Sorry, we don't admit 'til six in the morning and I also think that we will not have any rooms clean or vacant 'til then so, if you'd like to wait 'til then we'll see what we can do." The concierge explained uncalmly "Just one bag?" asked the maid towards the young man. "Yup, light packer." He answered with a flirting smile. "Artist?" guessed the maid. "Psychic?" retorted the artist. "No, I just saw the pencils in your belt and" -SLAM!! "I was here an hour and a half ago and I couldn't check out and pay, now I'm here, you're here and I want to pay check out and leave!!" Howled the man. "And give me my bags!" "These filthy things?" Jabbed the concierge. "Yes." Whimpered the intimidated man. "Ha, here take 'em." Guffawed the concierge. "Here is your money, could you send your bellboy to get my other bags?" Demanded the man. "I don't have one." Submissively answered the concierge. "Bah, Figured!!" Teased the man. "I guess we should all go up stairs together." Surmised the concierge. "Me too?" Stuttered the artist. "Uh huh, lets go, and you Miss.I'll be tardy on the first day, I'll show you around, and you "Mister.I'll tag my own bags, we'll all go and get you're bags, since yours will be the only room left vacant." The concierge informed everyone. "Okay, then I'll leave my bag here for the bellboy to bring up with my room service." Estimated the artist. "We don't haveugg, never mind!!" Uttered the annoyed concierge."
As the quartet traveled down the hall towards the stairs, with completely no rationality they passed the elevator without a thought and for some strange reason the maid has taken upon her self to lead the group. "Sir, could you wait a moment so I can grab something?" the artist quizzed the concierge. "Hurry, I'll wait here." Answered the concierge. As the artist advanced to his bag, the man watched as the artist ran past him and spied on him as he searched for what looked to be a composition book marked: MY CREATION. The man was perplexed as to why this would be so important to the artist, and figured that it might be his secret diary disguised as a sketch book. The artist caught the man at his feeble attempt to spy on him. "Can't go anywhere without my creation, the only reason I'm here is to have him." Smirked the artist as he put his sketchbook in his pant's pocket. As the quartet walked further down the hall the concierge had a query that had been bedeviling him since he saw the maid, "And Miss why aren't you in proper uniform?" "It's better to hide the blood." Returned the maid. The rest of the group was appalled at this answer. The three men were all thinking this but only the concierge asked, "And just what is that supposed to mean?" "It only means one thing." The maid said with a menacing smile. "Never mind." Shrugged the concierge. As the four continued further down the hall the concierge yowled, " Who kicked in the doors?" As the rest could see the door wasn't kicked in but pulled off it's hinges and just placed inside of its room, this seemed to be the pattern with all of them. "What did all of my guests do to their rooms? As the concierge had heard none of this last night. And as the rest of the group asked all at the same time, "Yeah, just what did happen?" "That's just what I want to know, lets keep going, we are going to find out!"
Now their journey has taken them to the stairs of the lobby floor. "Here we are at the stairs of the lobby floor now lets go to the top floor and then to my room." Suggested the man. "No!" "There are more important things than your stupid bags," as he points to the man. "And your stupid training," he yells as he points to the maid looking smug with her black maid's cap and apron. "And your stupid room!!" as he points to the artist, the soon to be newest guest at his hotel. "All of you are in it with me until the end." All of this quarreling and lamenting has brought them to the top floor. On their way to the man's room they pass all of the other rooms on the floor: ..309, ..308 and so forth, all of the way to the restroom located a few steps from the man's room, as the pass the restroom the all get a shiver down all of their spines. This room never had a door so that is not their concern, but what equally has their attention is what they saw, a sink was visible as they walked by, it's faucet still running and over flowing with a light pink liquid. All of them saw it and knew what it was, but each of them made up what it could be, all of them lying to themselves. After they passed the restroom their path brought them to the only room they saw that didn't have a broken door, the man's room, room ..302. The concierge, the artist and the maid all look towards the man as he acts as if he knows nothing, but in all authenticity he truthfully knows nothing. "It was you!" Cried the concierge. "It was you!" He repeats as he reaches over to brutally attack the man. The artist and the maid drag him away at the last second before his hit lands. The man not knowing if he didn't do it, now thinking back to his hangover of unknown origin, "Maybe I did do it". "Ha, ha, ha, it was me and I'm proud of it." "What?" The others asked as he attracts them so quick and painlessly none of them saw it happen to each other or coming towards them .
As the man drags the three into room ..302, the artists sketchbook falls out of his pant's pocket, the man retrieves it. As he is flipping through he sees a rough pencil sketch of a werewolf howling under a full moon like a rabid animal. The man thinks to himself, "Huh, werewolves, they can't exist." "Wait...nah."