Kevin stands at the hotel lobby alone, he takes a deep breath the eerie quiet made him hear his own heartbeat. As he looks down at the polished marble he notices something red, bloody footprints. A shiver runs down his spine as he slowly backs away but more crimson footprints appear moving toward his location. Maybe the entity didn’t notice him as he moved around but wherever he goes the footprints follow. Suddenly Kevin begins to giggle and the footprints stopped in place. “Ha ha look, I made you draw a [male equipment]!” Then the man jumps out the window. -- Anon Guest
[AN: OP, I fixed your English but I can't fix your reading skills. I did ask in the pinned post to resist the temptation to send me microfictions as prompts. I don't find them fun]
As far as hazing exercises went, this one was pretty lame. Stay in the lobby and meet the bloody boot-tracks. Done. Kevin took out his phone and turned it to record the tracks. "Obviously, that's not my shoe size," he put his sneaker next to a bloody footprint for comparison. "And check it... I made it make a dong." He made certain they'd be able to see it and laugh. "Awright. Next up, I got me a date in the BAALLLL room to see if I dance with devil." He stopped the recording and hit 'send'.
They'd watch it together in the morning when they came to fetch him.
Kevin followed the directions to the ball room, cackling all the way. Heheh. Balls. The place was empty and bare. All the glass that could have faced the outside was replaced with plywood boards. Half the linoleum had peeled up to reveal faded and scuffed parquetry underneath.
"Heeere devil, devil, devil. Come dance with me," he jeered, recording the scene. He whistled a tune that was everywhere on the radio. It was mostly about various depraved acts but the censors hadn't caught up with modern slang, just yet. He gyrated suggestively across the floor, occasionally kicking up some linoleum. "C'mon. Do some Shining shit here. Olly olly oxen free."
Call on the devil enough... and he will answer.
"You wish to trip the light fantastic," said a voice. Between one blink and the next, the ballroom looked like it once did in decades past. And there, an attractive figure in shades of blood red and beetle black. "My dear, reality is plastic. Are you brave to take a chance? Then take my hand and, devil, dance."
"Cool holograms," he said. "Damn, you fine." He couldn't tell if they were a guy or a girl and honestly didn't care. If it came with some fun at the other end, it was all golden. So he put his hand in theirs, and said, "Sure babe, let's dance."
The recorded video on Kevin's phone showed whirling, decrepit walls, but it didn't pick up any sound inside the room. Not even the sound that should have been in the ballroom. It could pick up sirens and traffic noise outside, but nothing that should have been audible inside.
Then the phone fell to the ground and caught nothing but rotting plaster on the ceiling until the memory filled up.
Psi Beta Omega's frat hazing ritual had caught another victim.
[Photo by Ozren Cuculic on Unsplash]
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