CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "If you're ever at the Covenwood Hotel, DON'T STAY in Room 371" Creepypasta

Episode Date: September 16, 2020

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Business trips are dreadfully boring, especially in my line of work. The only good thing about them, the hotels. The tedium of day-to-day dealings book ended with clean towels and a mint of my pillow. If I could live in one, I surely would. There's just something in the ambience that soothes my soul, for lack of a better phrase. At least, that's how I felt until staying at the Covenwood Inn. It seemed like any other hotel at first, typical floor plan, decorative arrangements, overly polite checking clerk.

It wasn't until I received my key card and ventured up to Room 371 that I would notice a dissonance in the layout. Something amiss that broke up the usual hotel landscape. In my room, placed deliberately on the bed, was a sheet of paper. Restrictions printed on official Covenwood Inn stationery. Room 371 guidelines No one No television after 9pm

Number 2 Only accept incoming calls on the room phone Number 3 Leaving a room between the hours of 10.30pm and 1.30 a.m. is strictly forbidden Number 4. At least 2 to an elevator at a time Never going alone Number 5. No visitors

If there's a knock at the door ignore it. Number 6 The minibar is for emergencies only. Number seven, the view is a lie. Don't trust it. Enjoy your stay. This was odd. I had never seen anything like it,

not once in any of the hotels I stayed at in the past. Perplexed, I called the front desk for answers. All rules are to be followed during your stay. The clerk stated this plainly, as if he had uttered it a thousand times before. I don't understand. What emergency would warrant use of the minibar? Why can't I watch TV after nine?

What does the view as a lie even mean? I was offered the same reply, spoken, with the same tone as before. Not unlike a recording. All rules are to be followed during your stay. Click. And that was that. No answers, no explanation. Assuming it was some sort of strange hotel humour I was

unfamiliar with, I threw the list on the bedside table and forgot all about it, until later that night. As I laid in bed, watching the 10 o'clock news, something completely out of the ordinary happened. The reporter began scratching at her face, a little at first, but then a lot. Emotions became aggressive and skin began peeling. Blood dripped from the wounds as she continued to relay her report without missing a beat. No one seemed to notice or react to her appearance. Eventually, she froze in place and stared at the camera. Then, a close-up of her face, grotesque and mangled.

Her bloody lips spread apart and offered an ominous sentence. Don't break the rules, Jack. I jumped out of bed, left my room and ran downstairs. My voice echoed through the lobby as I parched over to the front desk. What the hell is going on here? The receptionist didn't so much as blink at my intrusion. What can I help you with, sir? I just watch a news reporter tear apart her own face and tell me,

me personally, to follow your bizarre hotel rooms. Is this some kind of sick joke? He pointed at the wall clock behind him. It's 1018, sir. In room 371, there's no television past... I grabbed him by the collar. I don't appreciate being toyed with. Continue this jest, and there will be a call made to the authorities

mark my words. I let go of him and stormed off, his monotone voice trailing off in the distance. All rules are to be followed during your stay. I returned to my room, shut the TV off, and lay down to sleep, ticked off, but exhausted. Unfortunately for me, my slumber would be short-lived.

I awoke later that night in a fit of sleep paralysis, pinned in place by my own body. At the foot of the bed was a shadow, figure whose features I couldn't quite make out in the darkness. A warmth overtook the room as it stepped over to my side. My heart began to race. Closer now, I could see it was a man, maybe in his 50s, well-dressed grey mustache. He leaned over me and spoke with a disturbingly unnatural timbre.

His voice echoed off the walls and met my ears with an inhuman cadence. It's a pleasure to meet you, Jack. Are you enjoying your stay so far? I tried to break free of my chemical restraints, but it was no use. Where are my manners? I'm Garrett Covenwood, the owner of this here hotel. I like to greet my guests whenever I can. He rested his hand on my arm.

There was a stinging sensation where his skin met mine, but I could barely wince in response to the pain. Follow the rules, Jack. If you don't, you're in for a bumpy ride. All at once, the warmth dissipated, and the sound of my cell phone buzzing rendered me fully awake. I jolted to a sitting position, reclaiming my movement. The man was gone, and my arm was fine.

Thank God, it was just a nightmare. I quickly grabbed my phone and answered it. It was my boss, Coulter. Hey Jack, there's been a change of plans. Need you down in the lobby right away. What? What for? I asked, somewhat groggly.

No time to waste. Hurry up. Click. I looked at the time. It was 12.36 a.m. I was forbidden to leave my room, according to the damned rules. I called the front desk. Listen here.

I need to come down to the lobby and meet my boss. I don't care what your rules say. There better be no weirdness. You hear me? The sound of tapping away at a keyboard filled my ear. Sir, a record show that your boss, Coulter Brumlock, is fast asleep in his room. Confusion washed over me. In his room? asleep?

How do you even know that? Are you telling me there's no one in the lobby waiting for me? No, sir, it's a slow night. Just me and the fern in the corner. I hung up the phone and dialed Coulter's number. After two tones, he picked up. "'This better be good, Jack. I was sleeping.' "'Colter?

"'You didn't just call a moment ago "'and asked me to meet you downstairs, did you?' "'He let out a groggy sigh. "'Of course not. What are you talking about? "'Can I go back to bed now?' "'Another wave of confusion struck. "'Sure, it was probably a wrong number or something. "'Sorry to wake you.

"'Before hanging up, I asked him one last question. "'Say, you didn't get a weird list of rules from the hotel, did you? No, now let me sleep. Click. He hung up and I sat there, contemplating things. Honestly, it felt as though I was hanging onto my

sanity by a single, fragile thread. I had told myself the images in the TV were the hotel was doing. But this, this couldn't be fate. Coulter and I had known each other for years. I knew his raspy voice anywhere,

better than I knew my own. That was definitely him on the other line, but at the same time, it couldn't have been. It was, by all means, a mystery. The next day of work came and went. Before long, Coulter and I met back at the hotel where we dispersed to our separate rooms. What was once the highlight of any given business trip was now tainted by uncertainty. For a good long while, I sat there in bed, still in my dress attire, perusing the list of rules on the bedside table.

I couldn't make sense of them any more than when I'd arrived, but it had become abundantly apparent that something was going on, something unexplainable. Part of me hoped it was the product of a tired mind, overworked and succumbing to the side effects of exhaustion. But lies, even the ones we tell ourselves, only stretched so far. After undressing and climbing beneath the sheets for some much-needed, rest, there was a knock

at the door. Rule 5 came to mind. No visitors, if there's a knock at the door, ignore it. It felt silly, but I did as the rule demanded. Best to act with an air of caution, I thought.

Better save than sorry. The knocking, however, was soon followed by a voice. Colter's voice. Jack, are you in there? Your wife called me. She says you can through in yourself, something happened to Leslie. My heart sank.

Leslie was our daughter. I jumped out of bed, ran to the door and opened it at once. Colter walked in, visibly troubled. What's going on? What happened to Leslie? Colter bore a look of deep concern. Well, it's not good news.

My heart was pounding. Out with it already. What happened? This is my daughter we're talking about. He looked at me, almost teary-eyed. Leslie's dead, Jack. All colour vanished from the room. What air I had in me left my lungs in a single, laboured breath, as a steady stream of tears wet my face.

Colter put his hand on my shoulder. There's more. Please, sit down. I fell to the bed, broken. The truth is, Jack. You broke Rule 5. Now I have to hurt you. His lips stretched into a wicked grin, and his body froze. He was as still as a statue.

Coulter? I don't understand. In a flash, his hands lunged and connected with my neck. With a vicious tight grip, he began squeezing the air out of my lungs. I tried to fight back, but his strength was overwhelming. I managed to get in a few jabs to his head, but it didn't seem to have any effect whatsoever. He forced me to the floor and continue to clench my throat until finally I lost consciousness. In that moment, I truly thought I was a goner.

I awoke in bed the next morning, alive and well. I quickly reached for my phone and noticed her text from Charlotte. Just put Leslie on the bus. She misses you terribly, so do I. Please be safe. We love you. I got out of bed and raced to the bathroom mirror. My neck was void of bruising, no signs of strangulation. I called Charlotte to be doubly certain.

To my relief, Leslie was indeed fine. As alive as she was the day I left, it all just felt so real. Could it have been a dream? Frazzled, I met up with Coulter and we drove to our next meeting I could still feel his hands wrapped around my neck I refused to make eye contact with him the entire day and he noticed

What could I say without sounding certifiable Hey the hotel left me this weird list of rules to follow Now I think I'm seeing things Want to stop for a coffee before you drop me off the nearest hospital No, that wouldn't bode well Mould food poisoning from the sushi at the hotel bar Was a far better excuse Only a few more days of torment

then I could leave. That's what I kept telling myself. Little did I know, my next night there would be the longest one yet. I awoke at 11.22 p.m. According to the blinking display of the alarm clock on the desk across the room. As my eyes adjusted, I noticed a faint, orange light dancing on the wall, pouring in through a gap in the curtains. I pour myself out of bed and walked over to the window to identify

the source of the light. What I saw was absolutely horrifying. The hotel was a blaze, an enormous fire engulfing the ground. The flames grew to great heights and touched the glass in front of me before I had the nerve to turn away and make a run for it.

In leaving my room, I yelled to warn the other guests. Fire! There's a fire! We need to leave at once! No one joined me in the hall. There was no sound at all coming from within any of the other rooms on the floor. Had everyone evacuated already? Was I the only one inside?

I opened the first door in reach. It was unlocked. Inside was the reporter from TV. Her face still dripping red, a bloodstained on the carpet now. You should have followed the rules, Jack. I slammed the door shut and moved on. In the next room was Coulter. I watched him strangling a copy of me before

his head turned and we locked eyes. He threw my lifeless body to the floor and started running to my position. You can't hide, Jack. I closed the door and ran to the next. This room contained yet another impossibility, the worst one yet. It was my wife and daughter standing at the door. Their eyes were vacant, drained of all human emotion. I watched, astonished, as their skin burned to a crisp.

before my eyes. Charlotte spoke first. We miss you terribly, Jack. Leslie chimed in after. When will you be home, Daddy? I couldn't escape them. These horrors were around every corner. In a last ditch effort to run away from my troubles,

I bolted to the nearby elevator. The button was jammed, but I kept pressing it. I looked down the hall to see the reporter, Coulter, my wife, and daughter, all walking towards me. Come on, come on, work you piece of crap, work! Finally, the button gave way and the doors opened.

I hopped into the metal box and pushed the button for the first floor. The doors closed, just as the rag-tag team of zombies closed the gap between us. I slid to the floor on the verge of a heart attack. The ride down offered no solace, no lull in the supernatural calamity I faced. Without warning, the elevator dropped, plunged to the depths of the hotel, far deeper than I thought possible. I gripped the railing as tight as I could as the light wavered in and out of life. In between flickers, Garrett appeared before me. You broke almost every rule, Jack.

This is what happens. You'll destroy us if you're not careful. He vanished. The light left with him. Knowing my death was fast approaching, I closed my eyes and thought of Charlotte and Leslie. I could see them playing outside on the rain on the day I left. It was always heartbreaking to say goodbye, and this would be no different. I held onto their memory and braced for impact.

As the elevator neared the end of his descent, Garrett's booming voice entered my mind and broke the trance. Wake up, Jack! jarred my eyes opened and I fell back landing on the floor the unique abrasiveness of the carpet brushed against my skin i was no longer in the elevator upon taking a deep breath and gathering my wits the familiar surroundings set in in i had inexplicably been transported back to room 371 as i looked around in disbelief happy to be alive and noticed the list of my hand Rule number seven was now circled The view is a lie Don't trust it It took a minute to register

But I now knew what it meant The view through the window There was never any fire It was just another ploy to get me to leave the room And I foolishly took the bait My eyes darted at the alarm clock on the desk It was 1.47am Meaning it was now safe to leave

I needed to get the hell out of there and fast. I stood up, marched to the door and grabbed the knob. It was hot to the touch, burning hot. I pulled my hand back instinctively to avoid the harsh heat. I then noticed the charred wood and the bottom of the door's frame, indicating fire. Real fire. But how?

I thought the viewer deceived me. I looked back to the list for answers and noticed a post-script. scribbled in pen. You should have followed the rules, Jack. You did this. Now we all have to suffer. My eyes scanned the page for more clues to no avail. They kept landing on Rule 7.

In addition to being circled, it was underlined with a striking red ink. Why did my attention need to be drawn here? Was it just gloating or something more? That's when it hit me. I walked over to the window and peered outside. The fire raged on outside my room, but the world below seemed unaffected. No flames, no firefighters, no one running out of the hotel.

Just a plain parking lot, traffic on the main road and trees in the distance. As normal a view as one could hope to expect from this particular vantage point. But the view was a lie. I tried opening the window but an unseen force closed it on my fingers I screamed and pulled them back in a great deal of agony I lifted the chair at the desk and threw it against the glass

it shattered revealing the world outside for what it really was I saw the fiery wall below and heard the guests screaming in peril there was indeed a fire and I truly was in danger Still in panic, I picked up the list and looked at Rule 6. The mini bar is for emergencies only.

This was certainly an emergency. Without any time to waste, I opened the mini bar next to the desk. Inside were no drinks or food, only a small black box with a red button affixed to its surface. I bowled it out and placed it on the bed. There was now smoke seeping in the room. into the room through the outline of the doorway. Looking over the list again, there were no further instructions,

nothing at all pertaining to the box. There was only one course of action left to take. I closed my eyes and pressed the button as hard as I could, putting my life in its hands. Memories played in my mind like a film reel running in reverse, the day's events followed by the previous and so on.

I relived all of the fear, and torment in a matter of seconds until eventually my eyes opened and I found myself in line with Coulter at the front desk waiting to check in this place ain't too shabby Jack better than the last one at least

I can't explain how but I was back in the hotel lobby and the first day of the business trip the day we checked in say Jack what happened to your hands I looked down and saw the bruises left by the window. Oh, it's nothing. Slam them in the car door, that's all. Both of them?

He was cut off by the checking clerk, greeting me. I was now at the front of the line. Do you have a reservation, sir? I stared at him for a while, remembering everything that had happened. I then backed away from the counter and turned to leave. Jack, where are you going? Sorry, Coulter. I think I'm going to get an Airbnb instead. I'll see you tomorrow. He waved his arms at me, frustrated, and then turned back to book his room.

I heard the clerk handing him his key card before I reached the exit. Here you are, sir. Room 371 on the second floor. We hope you enjoy your stay. Oh no.