MADELEINE HOTEL, Part VI | Written by @nachomolina | Original Story | Suspense | Horror | (ENG)

By nachomolina | nachomolina | 19 Jan 2020

Greetings to all my esteemed and respectable followers! :) After a brief pause, here I am back with the delivery of my new creative content in Spanish 2020. Thank you for your constant support, you are very much loved!

MADELEINE HOTEL, Part VI

(on the outskirts of the hotel)

_ Do you believe in the dead ...?
_ Have you heard voices, coming from beyond?
_ Do you think it could exist, the curse ...?

Tell me, Santos ...!

_ Have you seen any dead around here ... in the world of the living?

Sorry for stopping to talk to you about this topic! Maybe you can consider it an abuse, I don't blame you! But I ask you as a friend and nothing more... Although I confess you !, yes... there is something that worries me.

Something that I still can't understand ...!

Working at Madeleine has become my livelihood and my devotion. It would be a failure to return to the status quo, where I once found myself hopelessly financially bankrupt. Here I can exercise my duties according to the profession for which I trained once in the public system.

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But, I am a human being! and psychologically I feel unstable, because I see shadows ...

My days are not normal. Can a person be in his right mind, when he feels that a ghost is waiting around the corner?

In the corner of the guard's cubicle was a smoking ashtray, a calculation that had no less than a hundred cigarette butts. I sat in the chair next to the door, at least I could breathe more of the outside air and less of the broth that stored the 2 X 2 room. Santos, I kept monitoring using the radio transmitter. With his eyes fixed on the control panel, he linked various communications and connected the two-way walkie talkie to the charger connected to the electrical outlet on the adjoining wall.

I didn't leave that cigarette that seemed endless!

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his lips were yellow like nicotine ... The tips of his fingers, he looked orange, resting his hands on the small square table where he had a half-bitten donut and a soda, leaned on to hit the air conditioner trying to make it start. He took another pack of cigarettes from the drawer and lit ... It was where I noticed that he smoked one cigarette after another without pausing so that his lungs had no rest at any time.

He finally paid attention to me, looking at me with suspicious eyes, as if he knew something he never wanted to reveal. It was no longer the mocking look of that surveillance guard who was always smiling looking for a way to make your day something funny that could make you happy. Already saints, he was not the fat one ... now he was thin, limp and with his face swollen as if time would treat him badly. He drank his soda while wielding a puff of smoke and dribbling his cigarette through the window blind. I had already got used to the fact that Santos was a smoker but very rarely had he had to share his toxic environment.

Santos spoke to me !:

"Upon leaving Mexico, I decided to put aside the traditionalism and customs that I learned as a child. After living so many years in a deserted town, my proximity to rituals and the dark world of healing through worship , they made me hate my ancestors. The magic linked to death, which like a cross, mixed in all aspects of my life ... "

Harry Volte, my friend! Since I saw you entering the door of Madeleine Hotel for the first time, you had a companion with you ... A whirlwind of light, was the weight on your shoulder, the guide that brought you here, to complete a mission where many others failed ...

Santos paused!
He lit a new cigarette and continued:

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"I always knew that deep down, I had to go back to my roots at some point. But all I can tell you! For now, is that for a Mexican

Finally, I confess:

_ Friend, just like you! I also see the dead ...

Santos took the donut from the table, took a bite without desire. He hit the air console again, without obtaining results, then left to take a tour of the facilities.

Looking at him from behind, I saw that his walk was heavy, now the clothes were completely unfit to the point that his pants were barely supported by the belt buckle ... A big difference, to the Saints I once knew! at my entrance to Madeleine. I stayed a few more minutes in the place !, thinking ... I took a look at the cubicle in which I detailed, a crucifix hanging on the wall, in the upper opening of the door. It was made with palm leaves !, tied with a red ribbon. Woven, as a work of native Chicano handicraft, sported an inscription, which stuck with transparent adhesive tape, read:

_ "Death is our late ancestor."

I knew everything was wrong!

Thinking of reaching the fifth floor and occupying my job became something terrifying for me ...

I promised never again to go up to the elevator from my degrading experience with that device that on my arrival at the hotel almost managed to kill me of fright, losing my faith and taking my breath away to the point of suffocation ... Miss Madeleine's suicide! It also marked me. My life passed, from that moment, between a feeling of guilt and the reluctance to perform my duties, more as a debt, than as a commitment. Finally, the man in a suit who walks on the fifth floor! The late lost soul, who roams the hall running away from his own funeral, sponsored by his wife ... Which I would not see again for the rest of my days. I remember that according to the woman, that man lost his life by accident from the stairs.

Where she also sank, that day of darkness marked by the compass of the wall clock, when I accidentally had to stay to take care of the damn coffin with a smiling corpse ...

(Harry spoke alone, while self flagellated)

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This is a crazy world!
It is the apocalypse!
"The curse of the Madeleine Hotel".
It's not fair!,

It is nothing fair! I must resign myself to such psychological abuse. I admit it !, I am trembling with fear ... Why? ...

Even the conversation with Santos does not help me. Rather, next to the sign and the cross on the wall, they both let me see that the security guard is also a victim of the hostility of this hotel.

One hundred dollars! One hundred damn dollars! It is the price ... The economic situation on the street continues to decline, the crisis is the same at all corners, but is this not so good a crisis ?.

It is the worst of the crises!... Out there nothing has changed, everything is in the same place where I left it months ago. But I! I have changed. I am a fool !, a stupid, trembling and scary man who fears his shadow, even the sound of a car engine. The conspiracy surrounds me, has me imprisoned, hits me against a corner while harassing me and punishes me with the whip of unfounded fear. Every day I wonder: Where will the next horror come from? Where does the dead man hide? Will I end up being the next dead person to walk through the dark corridors of this hotel? That will be the mission, the light, which Santos referred to me?...

Standing, under the stone arch of the entrance !, with one foot inside the premises and another on the sidewalk of the ecological park. I had just withdrawn my envelope with the payment: "150 US Dollars", which added my last night watch.

I had a decision to make! Enter the jaws of the beast... "Madeleine", or withdraw and never return.

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I looked at the megalithic building in front of me, rising to incredible heights. I looked at the ecological park at the other end, with all the memories of my past ...

About to take the most important step of my life! Between freedom and the darkest prison, at that point of inflection, my viscera twisted and my heart quickened ...

I looked for the last time! and I said:

_ Decision made !, nobody can against Harry Volte. "This story is not over yet" ...

I walked, heading towards the fire escape stairs ...

To be continue...