“Whatever you do, don’t go into the laundry room,” they told us. “It is off limits for guests. I repeat, don’t go to the laundry room.”
They led us up a set of blood red velvet stairs and opened a creamy chestnut door. “This is your room,” they told us. “You have access to the pool and the sauna downstairs, using this key. Call the maid if you need assistance. Please remember, the laundry room is off limits.” And then they left.
The chamber was heavily laden with shadows, a thick winter jacket. Shiny teacups lined the edges of the tables, peering at the ground. Mirrors hugged every wall. A lonely king bed sat in the corner of the chamber. Somewhere, the heating vent breathed in and out, an aged old dragon.
We kicked off our shoes and laid the tattered old suitcases on the ground. Then, sounds of running water rang up from the bathroom. We laid down in the beds. I stared at the walls, and they stared back. The moon watched us through the window. The clock: a dead pale face pinned on the wall, its teeth slowly chattering as the seconds passed.
An hour passed, then two, then three, so the hotel slipped into the deathly silence of sleep. Nothing stirred, not one leaf on the sidewalk, not one person in bed. The stars were glazed, frozen in place on the night sky, petrified ghosts.
Then, a prolonged thump, coming from just down the stairs. It jarred me awake. I stared into darkness, watching, listening.
But only the shrill screech of silence drilled into my ears.
So, I swiftly slipped out from between the sheets, creeping out the door. “Stay in your room at night,” they had said. “It is not safe to be prowling around in the darkness. You don’t want to disturb the peace.”
But who was I to care?
Like a snake, I slithered down the velvet stairs. What my parents don’t know won’t hurt them! I creeped down a dim-lit hallway with shadows like drapes. Countless doors lined the hallway, glinting.
My eyes trawled over them all but stopped when they saw the words.
Laundry Room: Do NOT Enter
I froze, and a slimy, poisonous, thought entered my head. I felt my body grow numb, felt a smile grip my face. Mesmerized, I watched my hands reach out. They grabbed the handle, slick with sweat. My heart throbbed in my throat. Too late to rethink this. It was now or never. They turned the doorknob, which croaked like an old toad. Then, the movement came down from my arm. I watched as my elbow extended backwards, pulling the doorknob with it. There was a moment of peace. Then, the door swung open, shrieking from its hinges, slamming into the wall! The bang echoed through the hotel.
But I never got to see what was in that laundry room, for more crashes reverberated throughout the hall. Someone was furiously banging in the room next door, yelling!
There was no time to think. I dashed down the hallway, swifter than a shadow. But up ahead, doors were opening! Many, many doors, swinging outwards, revealing gaping black holes, mouths, ready to swallow me up! My mind was wiped blank. I turned, leaving little skid marks in the carpet, trailing smoke, and ran blindly in the other direction.
A door opened right beside me! A pale hand, spider like, groped at me, grabbed my shoulder! Surprised, I turned, gawked at the pest clung to me. Frantic, I sank my teeth into it, tasted bitter flesh, rotten to the core. It let go with a howl. And then I was off! My feet flew across the ground. My eyes darted to yet another door, and my brain registered what it was: a closet.
Quickly, I fumbled with the handle and jumped inside, into the darkness. I let the door slam, and then all was silent.
I must have waited there for an hour. An hour with only the staring moon as company. But I couldn’t stay here forever; someone would come knocking in, someone would come looking.
So once again, my hand reached out, and grabbed the doorknob. The door swung open. I peered into the empty hallway. All the doors were closed.
I stormed down the hallway, quick as I could, avoiding the glares from the peepholes. I skidded around the corner and scrambled up the stairs. I ran to reach my room, but there was already someone there, waiting for me.
He was a great bulky thing, with arms that swung close to the ground, and a frame that seemed to fill the hallway. His face was a smashed ball of play-doh, with two sunken beetle black eyes that glittered like those of a spider. His little yellow teeth could have been pincers.
Before I could react, he had seen me, and stomped over. There was no escape now.
“What do you want?” my voice sounded awfully small and pathetic.
“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in your room? I was just patrolling the hallways.” The dark figure grunted. I breathed a sigh of relief: it was only the nightman. Smiling apologetically, I quickly squeezed past him. I ran off and slipped into my room.
From behind me, the gruff voice called, “Don’t let me catch you wandering around at night again. You don’t want to be disruptive.” He sounded serious.
But who was I to care?
The very next night, I took the same trip down the stairs. I took the same turn into the hallway with a thousand doors, which at any moment threatened to open and swallow me up. I walked the same path down to the laundry room.
This time, I did not hesitate. I closed my eyes and grabbed the handle and yanked the door with every ounce of strength I had.
Slowly I let my eyelids flutter open. The door was still closed. Locked. I was locked out of the laundry room. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
I kicked, and pummeled, and I begged the door to open, to show me what lay hidden inside. What secrets must be hidden inside that they so desperately wanted me to avoid? What treasures there must be, all for my taking! But the door remained locked. No amount of begging would do.
Defeated, I could only trudge back into my room. The gears in my head slowed to a trot. The door of opportunity seemed to have closed.
But that doesn’t mean I gave up. Every night, for a week, I would make the trip down to the laundry room under cover of darkness. And every night hereafter, the door to the laundry room remained locked. Locked against my prying eyes, the secret safely protected.
Slowly, tantalizingly, the days flew by, until I had only one night left in the hotel. Tonight, surely must be the night, the night when the laundry room is unlocked! There was only one way to find out.
Like I had done so many nights before, I slipped out from between the covers, quiet as a mouse. The moon was gone tonight, concealed by clouds. I made my way down the stairs, half a shadow. I was half-way down the hallway when I saw it. The laundry room door was wide open!
But it was at this moment that I heard the voice.
“Hey, you! What do you think you’re doing?! I thought I told you not to prowl around at night!”
It was the nightman.
Quickly now, I must peer inside, see! I could not be stopped here, so close to success only to be met with failure!
I felt myself tense, felt the soft tread of my feet against the carpet. The open door was welcoming me, just down the hall, open, inviting, begging me to see what lay inside.
Suddenly, the ground was a blur, and the doors flashed by too fast to count! The nightman didn’t matter anymore! He sprinted behind me, massive boots tromping, shaking the ground, and reached out to grab me. But I was faster! I snatched the door handle, grabbed it, and used it as a brake. The nightman was far behind me. This was my chance. Finally, I could see, I could experience what lay inside the laundry room. My heart fluttered with content, and that smile gripped my face. I turned my eyes to the room.
There lay several big white machines, spinning, chattering like the face-clock. Piles of clothes lay on the tables. The laundry machines pumped some soap and water into their load. Liquid sloshed around as the machines dully spun, over and over. There was nothing out of the ordinary.
I blinked for a second, unable to think. But then, a smile spread across my face. I have finally witnessed the secret of the laundry room.