PROMPT

The elevator shudders to a stop between floors.

I gaze up at the old-fashioned floor indicator. The pointer rests in the middle of the painted, serif three and four. It doesn't move.

A chill filled the air. My breath morphed into a cloud in front of me—warm air meeting cold. I was told this ancient hotel was weird. I hadn't bargained on how weird.

I waited, listening. The metal walls breathed and creaked, the sounds reminding me of those heard in scrapyards. Footsteps, padding against carpeted floors, rushed past one of the floors and stopped.

A bloodcurdling scream erupted in my ears as the elevator plummeted down.