Melancholia

 A swiss army knife. Military green in color, slightly rusted. A well dressed gentleman rapidly approached him as if on a mission, a sinister deadpan expression on his face with the thumping of his legs against the richly carpeted floors resonating across the mostly empty dining room of the hotel, holding a finger-sized green bar like object in his hand. Before either of them could react, the man sliced Matt in the neck . As the vision of his dining partners horrified face slowly dimmed away, Matt felt his soul leave his body as the precisely crafted instrument punctured his carotid. Death. A rather melancholic, argued upon subject. They say that even as a person dies, the soul lives on. Some say that the soul is the embodiment of the person and his deeds, which he is punished for in his lives. Karma. Others believe that the soul is a life force, merely a binding agent of the being. The undisputed truth amongst these indemonstrable beliefs, is that death is the end of all biologica...

  They arrived at the hotel. It was a eerie castle like structure, made out of red bricks with it's ivy covered walls, the hotel from the outside, looked menacing and imposing. The windows were dark and and the light played tricks on your eyes.    "Room number 1313.Could you take our luggage upstairs please?". Stefan brought in the camera equipment and bags, giving them to the bellhop. The hotel lounge was big, empty and soulless .Even standing on the heated flooring, the place felt ghastly cold . Matt felt something was off. Everything in the hotel was quite normal, but he felt an eerie sense of desolation. Perhaps his imagination, but the staff seemed......disturbed. "Come on, let's get a move on Matt, we have to settle in and set up the camera equipment before it gets dark, it's 6:30 already ".He got into the elevator with Stefan, shrugging off his intuition. It was probably just his imagination. As they   got in to their room, the bellhop was wai...

 "What's all this haunted hotel voodoo doll crap?" Matt scorched his hand trying to light a fat cuban. His doctor told him it was bad for someone like him with a punctured lung, but he just couldn't get himself to quit. Sitting right across him in the cigar lounge, as a puff of smoke wafted into the air, Stefan King spoke ."The Omni homestead has a past, ya know .",as he gestured the waiter to bring him another scotch ."In 1766 ,the first year of the hotel, a wedding was scheduled .The nervous groom-to-be had second thoughts about the wedding, and he ran away .Heartbroken ,the bride took her own life on the 13th floor, hanging herself .Legends say that even today ,the spirit of the bride wanders at night on the 13th floor, asking people the time, waiting for the groom to return".                    "Regardless, you have to help me in my documentary, you have no choice" Stefan said .Crazy about horror stories ,he fancied himself a pa...