Incident Above the 22nd Floor
INCIDENT ABOVE THE 22ND FLOOR
Herein I weave a spine-tingling tale of the unknown, set aside your logic, suspend your disbelief and commence on an uncanny journey with the protagonist, namelessly branded as an inspector.
The city was embraced by the shadow of darkness, the asphalt mirroring the melancholy of the night, as the moon glowered down at the deserted streets. The glass splurges of high-rise buildings sparkled like stardust scattered across the midnight sky. In one such giant concrete stalk, the 22nd floor to be precise, a cryptic event had summoned our inspector.
He started on his reconnaissance, treading across the marble floors of the plush hallway, the only sound being the muted echoes of his footsteps and his asthmatic breathing. Room 2201 was where he was heading, the den of the peculiar transpiring.
"Every light in the city can be seen from this room, inspector," the doorman had said, a shaky fear palpable in his quivering voice.
With measured steps, the inspector approached the door of room 2201. He swung it open, and thus welcomed himself into an eerily lit room, the ambiance steeped in uncertainty. Every object in the house seemed to withhold a story, every corner swathed in an unnerving mystery.
A chilling wind blew through the open, floor-to-ceiling windows, shuffling the scattered papers onto the lacquered wooden flooring. An uncanny sensation tingled at the back of the inspector's neck and a sense of unease settled in the pit of his stomach. Blanketed under this inexplicable dread, he took his first step into the seemingly uninhabited room.
Against the starry backdrop outside, the high ceilinged room was cast in foreboding silhouettes. The inspector squinted to adjust his gaze to the dim lighting, his heart pulsing with radicle dread.
A sudden flicker of movement entered his periphery, eliciting a gasp. On stabilizing his vision, he found a pencil teetering precariously on the edge of the mahogany desk, finally surrendering to gravity. "Just a pencil", he muttered, his voice far less confident than he hoped.
The fervent wind from the open window stilled abruptly and the room fell into disturbing silence. On an encroached corner desk was an antiquated phone, the silence of the room was broken suddenly by its loud ring, making the inspector jolt. He picked it up with trembling hands. "Hello?", he asked hesitantly.
A whisper, barely audible, yet chillingly clear echoed, "Inspector, leave while you can" and with that the line went dead.
The hairs on his nape prickled as a cool draft breezed. Suddenly, the door behind him slammed shut and the room plunged into an unsettling darkness. Panic seized him and he fumbled for his pocket flashlight.
With the faint beam of his flashlight, he saw something that sent a shiver down his spine, imprinted on the dusty wooden floor in broad, scrawling letters was a message: "Run, Inspector. Don't look back". The most disconcertingly part? The message was being written in real-time with no visible presence in sight.
Fear propagated every fiber of his being, every instinct screamed at him to flee. Yet, he waited, his curiosity superseding his fear. Watching as the invisible entity slowly finished etching its eerie warning.
The silence of the room was suddenly shattered by a piercing screech, the deafening sonance bounced off the walls of the room making the inspector clutch his ears. As abruptly as it had started, the screeching stopped, leaving behind a horrifying quietude.
His pulse quickened and with a final surge of fear, he darted towards the door, relieving himself from the haunted room. Nearing the hallway, he twisted a glance back, his eyes widened at the horrific spectacle; an ethereal figure stood on the other side of the glass window, eerily levitating in the midnight backdrop.
The Inspector lived to tell his tale, the eerie happenings of the 22nd floor remained an unsolved mystery, forever haunting the recesses of his mind.
As I conclude this tale, dear listener, remember sometimes in life, reality can often be queerer than fiction. What lies beyond the realm of our understanding often holds the seed of the greatest thrills.
