The Thirteenth Floor

Above twelve and below fourteen, Is the haunted floor never seen.

Characters

Jeremy Kingsley, bootlegger

Mace Haskins, his friend

Martha Higgins, old maid

Regina, receptionist

Lawrence, manager

Bill, elevator boy

..--..

It is a breezy evening and lowering clouds seem to bring warning of thunder. Jeremy Kingsley, a tall young man of twenty two is sitting in a bar. He is smoking a cigar as philosophically as if this day were in no whit more momentous than any other. His head wavers as he plays cards with his close friend, Mace, another gambler from The Square district. Dressed in a grey collared overcoat, a gold bracelet hangs from Jeremy's wrist.

Mace: (grins) I think today is my lucky day, matey. You are about to lose the first game in your life.

Jeremy Kingsley continues to stare at the triple cards held in between his fingers. His eyebrows furrow and he lets out a whistle.

Jeremy: Don't be over-confident. I have never lost a game in my life and .. ( He lays his cards on the table) .. I don't intend to!

Mace: (stares dumbstruck at his friend's cards) Three aces? How did you manage to pull that off?

Jeremy: Like I said. I am the king. Now.. pay up.

Mace: You continue to remind me of how much I despise gambling with you.

Jeremy: (shrugs shoulders; speaks contemptuously) Money is all I care about, my friend. Now pay up your dues. Three hundred dollars.

Mace: (shocked) Three hundred? The bet was on for two hundred and fifty!! I didn't know I was supposed to pay interest!

Jeremy: (smiles devilishly) Yes, two hundred and fifty.. plus the wine I bought for you a moment ago.

Mace: You bastard!

Jeremy: Thank you for your compliment. Now, pay your dues and I shall be gone.

Mace reaches into his pocket. His fingers rummage through the empty wallet. A distinct memory of how he had spent all his money in the races, drifts into his mind.

Mace: Uh listen, old buddy. How about another bet?

Jeremy: (raises one eyebrow) I am not interested. Haskins, patience is not my virtue.

Mace: (panics) Come on, you are not the type of person who will turn down a challenge, will you? I-I will even raise the price!

Jeremy: (muses and nods) Fine. What's the bet?

Mace: Ever heard of the old hotel Le Pres?

Jeremy: I have. What about it?

Mace: Some say it's haunted.

Jeremy: Bah! Ghosts are imaginary beings made up by nannies.. for scaring little twerps. Grow up, Haskins.

Mace: Alright then. I dare you to stay there for one night. If at the end, you still believe that ghosts are non-existent, then you win. Otherwise, my dues are cut and you will owe me exactly five hundred dollars.

Jeremy: Game. But if I win, you will owe me eight hundred. Be ready to lose.

Mace chuckles. The two men stand up and shake hands to seal the agreement. Jeremy takes his coat and walks out of the bar. A smile remains etched on his face while his mind revels on the thought of the money he will win. The next day, he would be definitely richer.. or so he thought.

..--..

The scene is taking place in a luxurious hotel lobby. Jeremy is standing near the reception with his arms resting on the counter. His eyes on the other hand, linger on the mid-riff of the petite receptionist. He runs a hand along his dark hair and whistles pleasantly. The raven haired girl looks up at him in annoyance.

Regina: And how long would you like to stay, Mr. Kingsley?

Jeremy: (taps his hat and flirts) As long as you want me to, beautiful.

Regina: (dead serious) Two seconds.

Jeremy: (chuckles) I like a woman with a good sense of humor. (leans forward)

Regina: Funny.I wasn't joking.

Jeremy: (shrugs) I want to stay for just one night.

Regina writes something in the guest book and walks over to a velvet board. She picks out a key from a hook and turns back to him. She places the key on the counter.

Regina: Room no. 209. Dinner will be served at nine. Please sign here.

She hands him the guest book and a fountain-pen. He writes a hasty, illegible signature and picks up the key.

Jeremy: (winks suggestively) Do you provide nightly services, sweetheart?

Regina: (dead serious again) I am married and my husband is a professional boxer.

Jeremy: (smile disappears instantly) Oh really? Good for you.

Jeremy Kingsley bows and vanishes from her sight. He walks to the elevator and finds a young freckled boy sleeping on a cushioned stool. The boy snores and keeps muttering female names under his breath.

Jeremy: Excuse me?

The boy continues to mutter incoherently.

Jeremy: Wake UP!

The boy wakes up with a startle and looks around frantically.

Bill: What? WHAT? Are we under attack? Are we being looted by the gangsters?? Dacoits!

Jeremy: (sighs and places a hand on the boy's shoulder.) Take me to room no. 209.

Bill: Oh. Uh- yes sir.

They enter a polished lift. Its insides are draped in red velvet and a mirror is attached to the back side. Bill punches the number '14' and they wait as the elevator rises. Jeremy is busy, studying his reflection in the mirror. There is a sudden crunching sound and the lift comes to an abrupt halt.

Bill: That' strange..

Jeremy: (curious) What's wrong?

Bill ignores his question and is busy punching various switches on the menu list. He cries out exasperatedly when nothing works.

Jeremy: Are we.. stuck here?

Bill: I am really sorry, sir. This has never happened before. We are on floor twelve. Your room is on the fourteenth. You could take the stairs but this damned door refuses to open!

Automatically, the door slides open and reveals an open corridor. Jeremy and Bill share a puzzled look with one another. They get out of the elevator and walk towards the carpeted stairs.

Bill: I will have to report the problem to the main office. You can go to your room, sir.

Jeremy: (nods hesitantly and starts climbing the stairs) Weird hotel.

Kingsley walks along the rosewood railing and passes a flickering golden lamp. Its candles sway with the breeze but the windows are closed. Being preoccupied with other matters, he fails to notice. When he reaches the next floor, he stops and looks around.. He doesn't see anybody around. He shrugs and he is about to take the stairs again when a hand pulls him back.

Jeremy: (shaken) Huh?!

He turns back to see an old maid staring at him with twinkling blue eyes. Dressed in an apron, her grey hair is pulled back in a bun and she has a trolley full of clothes behind her.

Martha: (asks in a kind voice) Which room is yours, lad?

Jeremy: 209. On the fourteenth..

Martha: No, it's on the thirteenth.

Jeremy: (puzzled) But- but, the elevator boy said that it's on the fourteenth.

Martha: (stares at him coolly) Bill is an idiot. I am the maid. You should trust me.

Silence. Jeremy scrutinizes the woman closely. She seemed quite ordinary to him. Nothing suspicious.

Jeremy: Alright. Take me to my room, old hag.

Martha: (stamps on his left foot) Don't you dare call me that again! My name is Martha Higgins.

Jeremy: (winces) Of course, I won't, old- I mean, Martha. (flashes her a sweet smile)

Martha grabs the handle of her trolley and starts pushing it down the corridor. Kingsley follows her like a lost puppy. They pass rooms where she knocks on the doors but no one answers. Kingsley silently wonders what's wrong with the residents.

Martha: Don't worry 'bout them. They are all asleep.

Jeremy: Asleep?

Martha: They are quite tired.

Jeremy: I see.

Martha stops before a room. It has a golden plate with the letters 209 inscribed to it. Martha grabs the key from Jeremy's hand and inserts it into the lock. The door opens with a creak and reveals a heavily adorned room. Jeremy enters it and lets out a whistle.

Jeremy: Not bad, if I say so myself.

Martha: (nods and turns to leave) Not many come here. Enjoy your stay. I will come at nine.

Jeremy: Alright, old hag.

He misses a wet towel thrown at him, by an inch.

..--..

The bed is lavishly decorated with cushions and frilly pillows. Near the bedside is an antique lamp and a beautiful vase with blue roses. Jeremy stares at the clock on the wall facing him.

Jeremy: (mutters) It's nine o' clock. And no sign of any ghost. I am going to win this bet.. no matter what happens.

There is a knock on the door.

Jeremy: Come in.

Martha enters, pushing a trolley before her. Many delicacies are arranged on the spread white table cloth. The champagne bottle glitters against the room's soft yellow lighting. The trolley stops before Jeremy.

Martha: Enjoy your dinner, Mr. Kingsley.

Jeremy: (looks up sharply) Wait. How do you know my name?

Martha: (shrugs) I asked Regina.

Jeremy: Hmm. By the bye, is she really married?

Martha: Yes.

Jeremy: (sighs) Too bad.

Kingsley's dinner is interrupted when they hear a low rumble. He looks around frantically.

Jeremy: Did- did you hear that?

Martha: Must be the neighbor in the next room. He has a habit of snoring loudly.

Jeremy: (calms down) Oh I see.

The rumble dies but is quickly followed by the shaking of the curtains. Jeremy drops his spoon in shock while Martha continues to serve him as if nothing happened.

Jeremy: (stutters) Did-did you see that?

Martha: (shakes head calmly) We are on the thirteenth floor. The winds are strong up here.

Jeremy sinks in his seat. His heart is beating at an alarming rate.

Jeremy: My friend told me that there are ghosts here. Is that true?

Silence.

Jeremy: Um- Martha?

Martha: Eh? No, master Kingsley. There are no ghosts here. People make rumors out of old tales.

Jeremy: Old tales?

Martha: Yes. People say that a maid committed suicide ten years ago. Some say her ghost still haunts this building.

The lump in Kingsley's throat continues to persist. Martha looks up at him and smiles when she sees him shaking in fright.

Martha: Don't worry. I have never seen a spirit and I never lie.

Jeremy: (nods uneasily) I agree. Ghosts are nothing but the products of our stretched imagination.

Martha: Yes, I agree with every word of yours.

Jeremy finishes his dinner and a content smile breaks out on his face. Martha loads the dirty dishes into the trolley and begins to depart.

Jeremy: Thank you, Martha.

Martha: (nods) I shall be on my way now. Sleep well.

Jeremy lays back on his bed and stares at the ceiling. Everything is quiet around him, drowning him in an eerie silence. The low rumbles had died down and the curtain is no longer fluttering. Confusion edges his eyebrows but he falls asleep soon.

..--..

The next morning..

Kingsley walks to the lift in a very pleasant mood. He is whistling to himself again and is quite oblivious to his surroundings. He sees the elevator's door open and hops in. Strangely, Bill isn't present. Jeremy punches a button and the elevator starts to descend slowly. When he reaches the ground floor, he gets out and finds Bill sleeping on the floor.

Jeremy: (talks to himself) Funny little boy. Ah, I am in such a pleasant mood. When I am out of this hotel, I will be eight hundred dollars richer.

Kingsley walks to the reception and is disappointed to find Regina absent. Instead, the manager- Lawrence, a bald man in a penguin suit, is attending to the visitors.

Lawrence: You must be Mr. Kingsley. Am I right?

Jeremy: (nods) Yes, I will be on my way now.

Lawrence: (bows) I hope you had a pleasant night here.

Jeremy: Indeed. And oh yes, please thank Martha for me.

Lawrence: (pales) Martha??

Jeremy: Yes. You know.. the old maid with the bun. She is quite helpful. You should raise her salary.

Lawrence: Sir, you must be mistaken. We don't have a maid under the name of Martha.

Jeremy: (confused) You are joking, right?

Lawrence: (serious expression) An old maid Martha used to work here a decade ago. But she committed suicide.

Kingsley gapes at the man in horror. His hands start shaking and he holds on to the counter for support.

Jeremy: Wh-what? But-but I met her on the thirteenth floor..

Lawrence: The thirteenth floor? But sir, we don't have a thirteenth floor.. Due to superstitious beliefs, we have number fourteen right after twelve.

Jeremy: Then, then.. the woman I met.. was a ghost?!

Lawrence doesn't answer. Kingsley is shaking and pulls out a kerchief to wipe away away the sweat forming on his forehead.

Jeremy: Tell me please. Why did she die?

Lawrence: She jumped out of a window after killing one of the residents.

Jeremy: She murdered someone? But why?

Lawrence: Rumors say that he called her an old hag.

Kingsley's mouth drops open. He collapses on the floor instantly. Lawrence rushes to the man's aid and crouches next to him. He grabs Kingsley's left wrist and checks for the pulse. But he finds none.

Lawrence: He's dead?!

In the background, the evil laughter of an old woman is followed by a spine-chilling scream.

Curtain falls.

The End.

by the bye- by the way.

bootleggers- gamblers and businessmen of the early 1900s.