The Driver & The Hotel Incident (Two Scary Stories)

Thank you for arriving this fast, I said, struggling to bring the strap of my purse into the back seat of the car. The driver murmured something sorry, I said, still adjusting shut the door. The man boomed. I pulled the strap completely into the car. Finally the door actually shut. I tried wiping down the seat with what remained dry from my jeans. The man didn't seem to notice that part. I could see his eyes through the. Rear view mirror looking at me. I had, after all, got in the back seat of the car wet. Why did they even make these things at a leather any more? The ride was going to be cold, and from what I remembered, was going to be a long one. This weather, right, I said, trying to tone things down a bit. He ignored me, or it probably couldn't hear me from the rain drumming on the roof of the old black Camry. I looked down at the back of the seat, and then down at the window. A sudden urge to step out into the rain again came over me. The locks clicked shut, and I looked at the driver, and then he looked at the mirror that looked at me. He said, something, but I didn't hear him. I nodded, and he nodded. He looked away, and I looked toward the window again. What was supposed to be a simple ride is about to turn into the most haunting experience for one of them, as a drive into a dark and rainy night begins. Just be ready for when it happens to you. My name is Edwin, and he a scary story. The rain was crying its way down the glass and disappearing into the wind behind us. The window wouldn't close all the way, so some of it was seeping into the car, but I wouldn't worry about it anymore. The blurry lights had long disappeared in the distance, and now was going to be a stretch of nothing but trees around us until we pulled up to my home, or what remained of it. It was just a house. Now home. I pulled out my phone to take the time. I still had about forty minutes to make it. That was glad that the whole small talk part was thrown out the window from the start. I looked at the back of the driver's head, bald. He was with huge scars by his ears, but perhaps what remained of a tattoo that had faded a long time ago. His hand was held tightly in a fist, and it made me feel uncomfortable, bankry. There was lots of stuff I grew up around, and fists were not uncommon around where I lived. There were the tools of husbands and bullies, tools you get to use until you get something better, something sharper. You learned to find the fists, and it's like this. The eyes give it away first. You know when someone's about to do something. You have a look down at the fists and be ready for it. Either you run or you get punched. If you fight, or you get punched too. Plus, the girls from my town were evil, some of them quite literally. But you learn to use evil as a tool eventually, or you die their choice. I looked at the driver, and again he looked at the mirror that looked at me. I looked down at his fist and then at the area where the handbrake was an automatic transmission. He was never going to open up that fist, and I couldn't tell from his eyes just yet, but something about his posture told me that he was planning something. I should have been scared here at his sudden anger with the door at the scar on his head by his ear. But it wasn't not after everything that happened these past couple of days, there was nothing to look at out the window but my own thoughts as I played back the mental track about what got me to the city. The phone call I got at the motel where I stayed for those two nights. The call had come from Mike, a guy had met one of the meets for this group. I was a part of PI, he said. Paulina was, but he could never say it. I was able to make it out. Let's just start over. I don't think this is for us, he said, the strange seriousness in his voice. He used to be so gentle and dark. It was true. Mike hadn't been to our meets in a while. He had gotten into a fight with one of the leaders of the group over a thing that he forced us to do, a part of a grand ritual. He called it. Not everyone agreed with it, but we all did it, even Mike. Something changed in him after that night. Everyone could tell, and yet everyone knew that he was planning on leaving. Nobody liked it, not even me, because once they left with what they know, they can bring us all down. But Mike hadn't been heard of in a while. He had left the state, and who knows how he got the number of where I was staying. Plus we all knew about what happened with Erica and Manny. Their dried up hands were still hanging on a wire by the back entrance of the house, a stern reminder of consequences. Many tried to leave first, and Erica helped him, and then both. Got the shovels. I know now of just how bad it was, and I can blame it on how naive I used to be, or how dumb whatever, but none of that matters. Now. I had chances to leave. Everyone did, and we didn't. I tried, though, I mean I ended up in a motel in a dark alley. For goodness sake, I walked halfway there before I was picked up and asked to be dropped off anywhere in the city. I had no address, only a plan to leave later that week and get across the state. Maybe you find a church and confess everything we had done. If I managed to stay alive. But now I had until midnight to make it back before I would have to dig my own grave. My hand was to become another dangling reminder of what happens when you try to leave. The night Backers. It's the name of a group, and I took it. I was gonna go back. There was more to do, people that still needed to pay, so they sends a driver for me. Within minute. Mike told me that they aren't as large as they seem. They only stay around the town and a couple of neighboring ones. They don't go out and find you anywhere in the world like they say that they do. There are ways to leave and stop dealing with all the things they make us go through, but at the time, it's not to be weird or anything here. Revenge was pretty sweet. It still is because imagine this being able to watch as a person who made you eat their leftovers and took your birthday money get struck by a car. Sweet, isn't it? What if I told you that you made it happen, or that the person who spit on you while you were tying your shoe, the same loser who stole your dad's lawnmower, was found dead in a ditch, stuck in the mud for two days, found but did not survive the thirst. It was baked in the sun, along with a mother that surrounded him. Petty right, a little bit but fair, who's to say. But here's the thing that balance comes from somewhere. Favors aren't free. It's how I lost my family. At least, it's what I believe in, what I was told over and over. And that's why you can't leave. You See, there's always something to balance out, like a never ending game of seesaw, where things aren't ever perfectly aligned anymore. But you're always fighting rights to fix wrongs, and someone always gets in the way to pay. You always take away from someone, and it always seems to be you that makes the payment. But evil doesn't even begin. To describe what this is. Too many nights I spent trying to decide on that first ritual, and when I finally did it, I could ever remember it. I knew the kid from a couple of babies sitting gigs too, and once I knew where he slept, I went back and grabbed him. I even went to his funeral. That's when they found where I had left him. It's easy when you don't remember what you did. As far as I know, I didn't do it. Whatever took over did it. It remembers it for me, and I just carry on doing these little tasks. So was I ready to leave, No, Mike, not yet. I looked at the time again. We were never gonna make it. Even if the driver sped through the rest of the road in the woods, it would. Be too late. Then I saw his fists shaking as he looked at the mirror that looked at me. I could do nothing. I told him to hurry, and even I was surprised at how stern my voice came out. He stepped on the gas and I felt my body he leaned back on the seat. It was like that for a few minutes before I knew it. There were only two minutes left. So I looked at him, and he looked at the mirror that looked at me. His whole body was trembling, and he pulled over and quickly he reached for his door. Shut the door. I yelled, it was my turn to boom. Now He ran out, nearly tripping on the edge of the asphalt by the trees. Was he thinking of leaving me there? My door was unlocked when he stepped out, and I pushed it open. I ran after him, but I couldn't get close. I saw his eyes, the fear I loved and missed so much, with that fist. My mind couldn't take it. I saw the small beads now dangling from the side of his hand, and I only imagined what was inside. I looked at the darkness, and it called to me. I followed as fast as I could. I don't remember much as to how I got back that night, or of what happened to the taxi driver, but it made it back in time. I'm still in the same old town, away from the same old people, and yes, I think of those that I've harmed often. I think of those that I've scared to death sometimes, though only sometimes. The TV was loud, blaring to an unknown static channel. As I realized where I was, the bleak decorations of the hotel room being lit up with that blue light from the screen, and I was able to make out the shapes around the bed, silhouettes that jumped with a light around the room, everything and sink. My wife started tapping around the bed, searching for the remote control, a thing we never used while on vacation, until I leaned over and hoarsely said, but I would turn it off. My wife rolled away from me as I stepped toward the front of the room. But then I saw it, A strange face appearing on the screen, distant and cold among the bits of black and white that were moving around like a million ants. But the face, that of a man, started getting closer. Its white smile came flashing across the screen, and then Hello, it said. My wife rolled on the bed and quickly sat up. What is that? My wife whispered, Hello it said, slower this time, and I could swear that it looked in the direction of my wife. I remember thinking it. Was weird at first, and probably chuckled at the thought that it was some prank on us. Maybe it was I don't know, nervousness. My wife didn't find it funny. I could tell by her white and the way she was curling up with a bench sheet against the back. Of the bed. Hello, it said, again, angrier, and then something replaced the screen. Of people in the rooms, some of them still sleeping, and others approaching the screen as if trying to turn it off. Others were screaming, and I could hear voices next door, people that were going through the same thing. I couldn't find the switch to turn off the television, so I looked around for the cable, but it was hidden behind the board that held it up on the wall. The volume got louder, and my wife was up and looking around for her sandals. I checked the time two fifty six in the morning. There was a commotion outside. I could see silhouettes moving through the people on the door. It clicked on the light. Sandra was on her way to me already and reaching for it, tightening the nightrobe around her waist. Outside was much worse than I expected. The whole floor seemed to be out of the rooms. Children were screaming, confused. Parents were on their phones looking around to get signal. People were running around the halls and toward one particular staircase. My wife and I looked at each other as the other television seemed to be blaring the same sounds, the echoes of the helloes coming from all around us. As we lined up for the staircase, people were shoving each other in a panic, unaware of what was going on. I don't know how I was able to stay calm. Maybe it was from trying to reason everything out. I watched as an elevator opened up and everyone shoved themselves inside, yelling and shouting onto the doors closed. We were on the fourteenth floor, and even though it would be a long way down, I dragged my wife to the other staircase at the end of the building. There was no alarm, no smoke, nothing but the panic of people trying to get away from whatever was replaying on these screens, huge faces of the man with his face up again to TV. As we passed by the wide open rooms toward the end of the hall, the staircase was quiet, with few footsteps going downstairs. Two or three floors below us. Guests were whispering to each other in confusion, But as we passed down the floors, we'd had to see other people running and shouting in a panic. Grown men were wiping tears from their eyes as they ran in the opposite direction. It took us a while as. We worked our way down the stairs, and with every floor that we passed, we saw the doors of the rooms were wide open. What is going on? My wife yelled and try to keep her calm as they reassured her that we were almost at the base floor. To just keep going and that we would find answers. The echoes of those televisions were everywhere, loud and getting louder. We finally got to the floor what the reception was and rushed out. Two other families were crowding up the desk while everyone else panicked in the lobby. I thought about us simply going outside, catching the eyes of a calm security guard standing by the door. His demeanor was nothing I wanted to see at that moment. He simply smiled and looked away. Once again, that is not a problem, I heard the receptionist say, with a white smile. We will have that looked at immediately. She then handed them vouchers for something and then looked at the next person in line. I cut in and shouted, what is going on? There was no reason to be calm in such a moment. Everyone was scared out of their wits. Sir, she said firmly, I will help you right after them. I looked at my wife and she was shocked at the manor professional. Yes, but at that moment it was the same thing. The family was complaining about the man on the television that they couldn't turn it off. Same script by the receptionist, apologizing, radioing the maintenance person to have that looked at immediately, and then offering vouchers. Confused, the family just stepped away. The receptionist looked at me and smiled. The television turned on by itself, and we saw something very disturbing. I started. She looked at me intently, as if she hadn't just heard the same story two times before, right in front of me, and waited for me to finish. That is not a problem, sir, I am setting some one to look at that right away. What is your room number, Room fourteen zero seven, I replied, nearly whispering, realizing that none of this made sense. What if it was a dream or a strange practical joke. She looked at me, smiled again, and offered two vouchers for breakfast and some other things that I didn't pay attention to, Holding them tightly in my hand, I stepped back, my wife looking around confused as well. There was no one around us any more. We looked at the receptionist and she looked back at us, pointing us in the direction of the elevator. We walked toward it slowly pushed a button that opened up the doors immediately, What is going on? I whispered to myself. Neither of us could offer anything here and simply stayed quiet. We got back up to our floor and everything was quiet. The maintenance man was waiting for us at the front of our room. We showed him inside, and he lifted a small compartment behind the television and plugging it from the wall. He was about to take out a tool from his belt. But I stopped him. Can you just leave it unplugged. We'll be okay with that, please. No problem, he said, in the same tone as a receptionist. He smiled. He stepped out of the room and shut the door. We stayed in complete silence for a while, not even sure when we fell asleep, but we did eventually. Did that actually happen last night? My wife said from the bathroom very early the next morning. She stepped toward me. It was strange, the man of the screen, yeah, and the commotion in the building. She continued. I was disturbed by the views of other people's rooms and panicked faces of everyone out in the hallways. It was as if reality slipped for a bit, and all I was left with was the margins in between spaces where our minds reach an edge that we should all be afraid of crossing, in fear we can never get it back. We got to the breakfast area early. We were the only ones there in the buffet, but it was hard to even get something down. That nauseating feeling that something was wrong wouldn't leave me, and I wasn't alone. My wife was very concerned with everything, and it was her that suggested that we leave early. We got the reservation for another night left without questioning it. We agreed to get our things from the room and get back to the lobby, and we did so very quickly. We looked at the television with the unplugged cable and really lived everything in my mind, the face of a man I've never seen before, greeting me with that hello and repeat. We shut the door after a quick look around the room, and before we knew it, and we were at the lobby again. Sandra went to sit by the couches with our things, while I went to cancel the remainder. Of our stay. Oh, the receptionist said, with an exaggerated frown, but I understand, what is your room number? We got a full refund for the. Remainder of our stay and I went to the group by the couches. We had no other plan then, where else to stay or where to go with our things. Let's just go. There's a bunch of places on this block, Sandra said, concerned. I could tell she was even more disturbed by everything than I was. I walked out to the front with our bags. The same security guard from last night was holding the door open for us. What happened last night, I blurted out, all three of us there. Still he seemed confused, so I mentioned the man of the screen, the commotion, the panic of everyone around the hallways. The guard seemed more normal than the staff at the desk or the maintenance guy. No fake smiles and didn't speak all professionally or whatever. Man, you're giving me. The creeps, he said, You're not the first person to leave just like that. But I'll tell you this whole building right here, there were only two other rooms besides yours that were occupied. I looked at him in shock. He continued, I've been here all night. I know what I'm telling you. He let out a nervous chuckle. I had never been so relieved to leave a place like I was that day, and even now when my wife and I talk about it, we can't believe that it happened ourselves. We were able to find reviews of the hotel for a while, the Belkan Hotel and Spa, but it showed nothing strange. We checked for a couple of weeks up until the listing disappeared, was renamed to something else, and now who knows what it is. To this day, I don't know what happened, and honestly, I still wonder if it happened at all. Thank you all for waiting for the stories to come out. I really hope you like these. We have lots more coming up. I promise a lot of these stories I make are inspired by things I see or hear, and this was no exception. I actually can fill up my notes app with a ton of ideas that would make a good story. And this time, because I was traveling to take care of a few things, I was staying at hotel rooms, taking. A lot of ubers taxis. I was tiring, but I was staying at a hotel room where I was The idea just popped up because I heard very early in the morning it was still dark out. The TV suddenly turned on coincidentally. Pretty sure there's a coincident, at least I want to believe that, staying in the sixth floor, room six o six. I promise I have pictures of this stuff. I just upload these on my Instagram at one point make a short story out of it or something. But if you're not following me. There, I'm edwin Cove ed w i n CoV All Winward on Instagram, TikTok, Facebook. But yeah, it was really eerie And when that happened, I didn't think of anything of it at the moment until after and I was like, did you hear that static sound in the morning? And my wife was like. Yeah, that happened really, really creepy. That's actually part of the you know what triggers some of these stories. But anyway, you guys used to send me ideas through the reviews and comments about things that you think would make good stories, and I want to follow follow up on those, like I want to make stories from your idea, So send them over again. Please let's come up with some new stuff around here. If you want to join our community on scary Plus and get these stories early and without ads, go to scaryplus dot com. Everything together scaryplus dot com and try it free for two weeks. You can cancel anytime. This podcast is written and produced by me Edwin Colarubias. If you're subbed, I'll be back next week with more stories. Thank you very much for listening. If it's scary everyone, see you soon.