I have been trapped in this hotel room for the past four days.
I have no memory of checking into this hotel, nor do I recognize the room itself. I was very worried at first of course— I mean, I still am but I’ve mostly adjusted to the situation and I'm just trying to figure out where to go from here. I figured that keeping a journal of sorts would help me work through— whatever this is. I guess I'll start from the beginning.
I still remember waking up on the rooms ugly green carpet. If you’ve ever been in a hotel before, you know the kind I’m talking about. I picked myself up off the ground, adjusting to the strange situation. I didn’t remember anything from the night before, but I had a theory. I don’t like admitting it, but I have a bit of a drinking problem. I’ve heard stories of good Samaritans taking in wasted people who blacked out so they don’t spend the night on the street. I know it seemed presumptuous, but that was what made the most sense to my groggy mind at that moment; hell, it makes more sense than what’s actually happening. I went for the door hoping to sneak out before confronting whoever brought me here, but when I turned the nob, the door didn’t budge. It wasn’t that the door was locked, the nob was able to turn just fine, and the chain latch was off. But the door itself wouldn’t move. Usually if you push on a door, you can feel it move a little bit, but this felt more like a solid wall that just happened to have a handle on it. I banged on the door and yelled hoping that I would could get the attention of anyone behind the door, but I heard nothing. That’s when I noticed the peephole on the door and glanced out to a long narrow hallway lined with doors on both sides, a hotel.
This was wrong. I wasn’t on a trip of any kind, so why would I be in a hotel? I glanced at the doors to either side of my room— 511 and 512, guess that meant I was 513. Did that put me on the fifth floor? Or does this one floor have five hundred rooms— no that doesn’t make any sense. But then again neither did the alternative. Who would drag a unconscious person to the fifth floor of a hotel and pay for his room? I’m getting off topic. I banged on the door again and yelled trying to get someone’s attention. Silence.
I walked away from the door and began to assess my surroundings. Now that I knew I was in a hotel, I could easily identify all of the common things you would expect to see in one— save for the absence of a window. There was a bed with sheets fitted a bit to tight, just enough so as to make it a struggle to get into. A small dresser with a tv perched on top of it, and next to it a minibar. There was also a closed door which opened to reveal a bathroom, stocked with all the small bottles of soap and shampoo that I usually just steal (don’t judge me.) Finaly there was a tall floor lamp and a desk next to it. On top of the desk sat a dim reading light, a landline phone, and strangely, my personal laptop sitting on the desk, plugged into the wall. This brought up more questions about how I arrived here. Had I checked into this room in a drunken stupor? It would explain why I was on the floor instead of the bed, but then why was my laptop here sat perfectly centered and plugged in on the desk?
I paced around the center of the room for what felt like and hour, but was probably closer to five minutes, unsure of what to do. The answer finaly came to me, The landline. Most hotels have a button to phone the front desk, right? I’ll just explain the situation and ask them to send someone to open the door. I grabbed the phone and pressed the front desk button. It rang for a few seconds before I herd a pre recorded message.
“Hello, you have reached the front desk of the Yancy View Hotel. please wait while we get a agent to assist you.”
There was a few more moments of silence before— static. Nothing but an endless sea of garbage noise. I waited there for a few minutes, hoping that someone would come to the phone. Until the line clicked itself off. I tried again but got the same result. I was starting to get desperate and tried dialling 911, but no one picked up. That’s when the thought that I’ve been trying to force down since the door wouldn’t open took center stage in my mind. I was trapped, alone in a hotel that I didn’t check into, with no way of escape. My gaze shifted to my laptop sat on the desk. Opening it up, I saw the date— 1:45 Am on May 13th 2017, a date far off into the future.