Tinged with Menace

There was only one rule: don’t open the door. Traylor Hitten could hear heavy breathing from the other side of the door in the yellow light. “Nope,” he said to himself, “Just going to mind my own business this time.”

The breathing grew heavier. It seemed to be tinged with menace. A malicious breath seemed to send his imagination into overdrive. He stood in the hallway. No one else occupied the motel floor. He inched closer to the door. The sound grew even heavier and stronger as he neared.

With every bit of his faculties, he decided not to move another inch. Whispers replaced the breathing. The man at the desk said that the motel had thirty doors and this one that Hitten now faced was the one off limits. He wanted to return to his room to watch the rest of the game but…silence. No breathing or whispers emitted from the opposite of the door.

When he had just taken it upon himself to be a low-rent investigator, he tried as best he could to turn around. Then, he thought it was just something to frighten him into thinking that someone or something was lurking in this particular space. He pulled on the door. His eyes widened. A pride of lions and the owner of the hotel prowled and tossed meat, respectively. He tried to escape through the same door.

“I tried to warn you, now, didn’t I?” Motel manager Bickle Sudson intoned.

“Now, I won’t have to chuck this meat around.” A lion roared, blood stained its teeth from the hunks of flesh. A lioness jumped up to stalk Hitten. His blood pounded in his ears as fear drove him mad. The lions then heard Sudson’s call and retreated.

“Next time, there may not be a next time.”