The following morning, a young man walked through the dimly lit corridors of the run-down hotel where he worked.
"Ha~ what was the room number again? Oh! Yeah, twenty-three." he mumbled to himself, scanning the numbered plaques. Finally, he spotted the room—tucked away at the very end of the long corridor.
He made his way to the door and knocked lightly. "Hey, mister! It's time for checkout. Wanna renew your stay, or are you packing up?"
Silence.
He waited, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. No answer. He knocked again—still nothing.
Not that this was unusual. Plenty of guests slept through checkout or skipped out early without saying a word. This place wasn't exactly a five-star resort. If he weren't desperate for cash, he wouldn't be working here at all.
With a sigh, he pulled out the spare key his boss had given him and unlocked the door.
"Sorry for intruding." He said softly.
Instantly, a foul stench hit him like a brick wall. The air reeked of alcohol, rusted metal, and a sharp, musky odor. The scents mingled into something new—something worse. Something that made his stomach churn.
"Ugh… Does this place smell worse than usual?" he muttered, pulling his shirt up over his nose as he walked through the cramped entryway.
Then he saw it.
His breath hitched. His knees buckled.
Blood. Everywhere.
"Wha—" He instantly fell to the floor, completely perplexed as to what he was seeing...
On the desk, on the walls, everywhere you looked blood would meet your eyes, and on the cold wooden floor was a man, dead in a pool of his blood.
The dead young man seemed to have let himself go, but if he had cleaned up, he would be most girls' ideal man. A perfect jawline, long black hair with emerald green eyes. Followed by his smooth, caramel-like skin. He might've been handsome once. But now? Now, the only feature anyone would notice was the gaping bullet wound in his skull, still sluggishly leaking blood.
Kane stumbled backward, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. Then, without thinking, he turned and bolted.
By the time he reached the lobby, his chest heaved from both fear and exertion.
JASMINE! JASMINE!" he yelled, barely able to catch his breath. He had sprinted down several flights of stairs, completely forgetting the hotel had an elevator (an old, creaky one, but functional nonetheless).
Jasmine, his manager, looked up from her phone, her brows furrowing. "What the hell, Kane? Why are you yelling?"
"There's a—a dead body! In one of the rooms! Room twenty-three!" Kane blurted out, his voice frantic.
Jasmine gave him a weird look. "Are you serious?"
"I swear! There's blood everywhere! Please, you have to believe me!" His voice cracked as he grabbed her arm, trying to pull her toward the stairs. "Believe me…"
Jasmine groaned, rubbing her temple. "Okay, okay, I'm coming. But if this is some sick joke, I swear—"
Kane barely heard the rest. He was already leading her back upstairs.
At the second-floor landing, they stopped in front of room twenty-three. The door was still ajar.
Jasmine hesitated. She turned, expecting Kane to follow her inside. Instead, he stood frozen in the hallway, a faint tremor in his voice.
"You go in," he muttered. "I don't wanna see that again."
Jasmine narrowed her eyes but shrugged. "Suit yourself."
Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside. Her heartbeat quickened with each cautious step. The stench worsened as she moved further in.
Then she screamed.
"OH SHIT! A RAT!"
The sound jolted Kane into action. Instinct took over, and before he could stop himself, he rushed inside—only to regret it instantly.
"Jasmi— Oh god!" Kane could feel the need to throw up swelling from deep within, lucky he stopped himself, covering his mouth with his right hand.
The corpse was still there. But now, squirming rodents feasted on the lifeless flesh, their tiny bodies writhing as they gnawed on the remains. Flies buzzed frantically, drawn to the stench of death.
Unable to linger in the room any longer, they both hurriedly made their way out.
They went back to the lobby, Jasmine recoiled, her face twisted in horror. "We need to call the police. Now."
It wasn't long before the hotel was swarmed with sirens and uniformed officers. The lobby buzzed with movement, the air thick with urgency.
Soon someone began to walk up to the pair. "I'm Detective Harmon." The man said showing his badge. "Can you possibly give me any information on what might of happened or who this person might be?" He continued looking at the pair intently.
Jasmine swallowed hard. "I… I remember him. He checked in about a week ago. Wore a hoodie and a face mask. Didn't think much of it—pandemic and all. He always paid on time, so I never asked any questions. That's all I know."
Harmon nodded, scribbling in his notepad. But then—
Everything stopped.
The noise. The movement. The world itself seemed to pause.
Everyone turned toward the entrance, confusion, and panic rippling through the crowd.
As outside the hotel. They heard a large explosion, accompanied by the screams of people.
They ran outside—some hesitantly, others in frantic desperation—to witness the source of the commotion.
What they saw left them breathless.
Several cars had crashed into each other, their metal frames crumpled and smoking. But none of the drivers seemed to care about their vehicles. No, they all stood frozen, their gazes locked on the sky.
A man burst into maniacal laughter as he fell to his knees, tears and snot running down his face as he looked up. "Hahahaha, it's the end of the world! Hahaha!"
Kane's pulse pounded in his ears as he followed their stares.
And then he saw it.
A planet—massive, looming, impossibly close.
Its surface swirled with red and white hues, while two glowing purple rings encircled it—one along its vertical axis, the other horizontal.
And it was moving.
Towards Earth.
A man in the street dropped to his knees, laughter turning into hysterical sobs. "Hahaha… it's the end of the world… HAHAHA!"
Kane's throat went dry. His hands clenched into fists. 'What's happening?' He thought, his knees almost giving out.
Somewhere behind him, a cop muttered under his breath, voice barely above a whisper.
"Lord, have mercy."