Hostel M2

M2-Part IV

"Think we're done here," Henry whispered to himself, he turned to see Chris who had his gaze fixed on a book; he was battling with himself to stay focused, especially with his head filled with enough worries to last a lifetime.

"I'd be off now," he said to his roommate as he packed the books he had used.

"Wait up, think I'm done here too," Chris said while he hastily packed the books on his table too, McKay had left them earlier. They got to the librarian's table; Mr. Edward gave a slight smile as they approached but they didn't seem to follow along with their minds probably pre-occupied with other things.

"You boys stayed longer than usual today," he started in his matured thick timeworn voice.

"Yeah, had extra work to finish up," Henry replied with a friendly childish grin. Chris walked towards the lobby which led to another section of the library like he was being called by something. He got Henry's attention as he stopped in front of a portrait which hung on the wall. Henry walked up to him, their jaw dropped as though they had seen a ghost which, in fact, was true. The man in the portrait had a striking resemblance with the man that seemed to have been on their tail for quite some time now. It was nothing but a mere look-alike until Henry noticed the tag on his shirt.

Mr. Jones, he thought out loud, the name sent flickers of terror down Chris' spine.

"Poor old Mr. Jones; he passed away a couple of years back, thanks to some drunk kids from Hostel M2," the librarian said from a distance as he noticed how far into the picture they stared.

Henry turned to him, "D...Did you know him?" he asked. The librarian simply nodded; he was quiet for a while before finally he spoke. The story he told was one of terror, of indescribable, maddening fear.

"Mr. Jones was Egyptian-American," Mr. Edward started, "he had been the hostel's janitor until a few years ago when his demise occurred. The fellow did have a very puzzling behavior; from how seldom he spoke to how deep he stared with those prying eyes which often sent chills down your spine," he paused for a while, there was an awkward silence in the hall as the two friends listened with racing hearts, "Mr. Jones was very confined to himself and really hated any intrusion into his business. There was always this bracelet on his left wrist" Mr. Edward said rubbing his wrist, "it totally didn't look ordinary and there were jokes often said about it-the bracelet I mean." He paused again, puffing out air from his mouth; Chris could feel a gust from within "Weird thing's been happening around here since he died, especially in M2. Funny enough, some people think old man could have returned," he ended with an inward laughter.

The light flickered, only then did they realize that they were the only ones left in the library. There was a moment of undeniable tension in the room, the expression on their faces as they gave a cursory look at each other made their fear even more obvious. What had been a sarcastic laughter from Mr. Edward had now turned into a frightful exclamation of the horror.

The light returned to normal, the few seconds that just passed felt like eternity in void. There was something written on their faces- it was hope, hope that it had ended but then, a deeper look into their eyes showed their doubt, that they were expecting the worst. No one had uttered a word yet. The light went dim again-almost close to being turned off- with the bulb giving a buzzing sound of electricity, Chris yelped in fear as he reached for Henry's shoulder.

"Santa Maria, non puo essere vero," Mr. Edward whispered in a frightened Italian accent. Henry swallowed hard; he held his breath, expecting whatever it was that would follow this awkward turn of things. There was noise from a distance, the book on one of the shelves was obviously being scattered considering the thuds that could be heard.

"Merda santo," Mr. Edward muttered from behind the table, reaching for his high voltage searchlight. He hurried briskly towards the poorly lit hallway that led to the exit as he cursed under his breath.

"Come on man!" Chris urged in between gasps as he hurried behind Mr. Edward, tears seemed to have welled in his eyes. Henry on the other hand stood still even when there was now an unbelievable but real sluggish footstep approaching. His heart thumped into his throat and seemed to stick there, stopping his breath. He turned around, peering into the darkness around him while his legs felt a sort of temporal paralysis.
The footstep suddenly stopped, it was followed by a thud from the passage which Chris and Mr. Edward had followed, and then the shattering sound of glass as a terrifying cry made Henry turn towards the hallway; his face dripping with sweat, his heart rattled under his chest like a bird trying to break free from its cage and his eyes shone in terror of what must have made Chris give out such a cry.

Chris emerged from the hallway, his jacket soiled with bright crimson... It was blood. The terror in his eyes was one that could only have come from deep within the abyss-somewhere this thing most likely had come from.

"He killed him! He f&@#ing killed him," Chris yelled almost in tears as he ran towards Henry who was downtrodden with fear. The footsteps started again, sluggishly, this time it came from the hallway and it definitely sounded like it was heading towards them.

"Come on!" Henry grabbed Chris' wrist which was all sweaty and made for the emergency exit at the other end of the library. Whatever was going to emerge from that hallway wouldn't be something to behold, it definitely wouldn't have the cutest smile or prettiest look. At this point, even their worst fear turned out to be an understatement of the real deal. It wasn't their imaginations or what they believed in that mattered now, they had to face the fact that the Devil was behind them and there wasn't any visible loophole in this deadly horrific labyrinth.

There was a gruff, threatening voice from behind, "it's no use running, thought you already knew."

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