Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#087Reader Mode

#087

Joseph stumbled to the phone like a drunk on a bender, collapsing onto the floor. But even in his injured state, his broadcaster instincts kicked in, and he continued filming the call without missing a moment. Seojun couldn’t help but be impressed by Joseph’s dedication.

As Joseph dialed 0, his hand shaking wildly, the sound of someone picking up on the other end crackled through the speaker.

“When I turned the water to hot, it’s supposed to be warm, not scalding! I got burned bad because of the motel’s stupidity. How are you gonna make this right? Don’t even think about lying your way out of it! I’ve got the whole thing on camera, and my channel’s got thirty thousand subscribers, so don’t mess with me!”

Joseph’s words tumbled out in a frantic, breathless rush, but after unloading his frustration, his voice suddenly took on a surprising calm, almost as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders – even though the issue was far from resolved.

“I’m telling you, the information in this guide is completely backwards! I’m going to make sure I get full refunds and compensation for this disaster. You’d better take care of it, and fast. My 30,000 subscribers are going to be watching your every move, and I won’t hesitate to call you out if you screw up!”

The person on the other end of the line must have been intimidated, because they quickly promised to send someone up to resolve the issue.

“Hey, don’t even think about hanging up on me!”

Is this turning into some kind of lawsuit drama…?

Not even that seemed to satisfy Joseph, but his nonstop complaining eventually helped Seojun relax somewhat. He was able to enjoy the movie without too much hassle, munching on a potato chip while the muffled sounds from the TV filled the room. Just as he was about to reach for another chip, the room phone shrieked to life, startling him so much that he nearly leaped out of his seat. The unexpected and jarring ring pierced the silence, making it feel as if the very walls were shaking. Seojun’s hand jolted, causing his beer can to tumble from his grip and meet its demise on the bed. Beer soaked the bed, and his snacks went flying, scattering everywhere like flower petals in the wind.

“Ugh, crap…”

Seojun hastily righted the beer can and brushed off the snack crumbs scattered all over the place, his heart pounding like a drum. For a brief moment, he considered the possibility that the noise had come from the movie playing, but Joseph was still yapping away on the phone. Then, for a second time, his room phone rang with its jarring ringtone, piercing the quiet atmosphere. It was the phone directly next to the TV, and Seojun’s gaze shot towards it in surprise.

Seojun carefully propped the beer can he’d been drinking against the headboard, trying not to spill another drop, and hit the pause button on the remote. He thought he’d pause the movie for now and answer the phone. But weirdly, the movie just kept on going, uninterrupted. Joseph’s expression was changing by the second, and even the spit flying out of his mouth seemed to have a life of its own.

Is the remote’s battery dead or something?

Seojun pressed the remote control a few times, but nothing happened. He sighed and picked up the ringing phone, deciding to have a quick conversation before hanging up.

“Hello?”

– Yes, you called for a cleaner, right? I sent one up.

“I don’t care who it is.”

Just as the voice on the phone spoke in his right ear, Joseph’s voice chimed in from the TV in his left ear. The timing was unnerving. Seojun’s eye flickered towards the screen, where Joseph’s furrowed brow was displayed prominently.

“No, I didn’t call for anyone,” Seojun said finally.

– Isn’t this room 666?

Joseph chimed in again, his timing eerie. “Yeah, that’s right. Tell them to hurry it up.”

It felt like three people were having a conversation, and goosebumps prickled Seojun’s skin. He knew it was probably just a weird coincidence, but the experience was unsettling, like sudden silence in a bustling square. A shiver ran down his spine, and an eerie sensation crept up from his toes.

“No, this isn’t Room 666, and I didn’t request a cleaner!” Seojun said hastily.

The moment he hung up the phone, beads of sweat trickled down his pale, jade-like forehead. At the same time, Joseph hung up on the TV, his face scowling into the camera. It was as if he were staring directly at Seojun, so he quickly looked away. But Joseph’s rant went on, unrestrained and unfiltered.

“I don’t know who’s showing up, but it better be someone in charge. They’re disrespecting me, our channel, and our subscribers by treating me like some nobody. I made it clear, loud and clear. Imagine if Philly F, Burnishing, or Usher Polando walked in here – would they get this kind of treatment? Hell no! Everyone from the top boss to the lowest intern would be falling over themselves to kiss up to them. Ugh, this towel…”

Joseph’s complaints were louder than a three-person conversation, but they came to an abrupt halt. It wasn’t because he’d finally gotten everything off his chest. Instead, Joseph stumbled back, startled and confused. The towel wrapped around his arm was drenched in bright red blood.

“What the…?!”

Joseph dropped the towel and stared at his arm, his eyes wide with shock. His forearm was covered in burns, but there was no evidence of severe bleeding that would’ve soaked the towel.

“What’s going on here?”

Joseph swallowed hard, his face pale, and carefully picked up the towel, now a mess of water and blood. Seojun leaned in closer to the screen, thinking that the movie’s main plot was finally kicking in.

As the camera zoomed in on the towel, the dark red bloodstains clinging to the fibers came into sharp focus. The parts that hadn’t been touched by water had dried stiff, looking strangely like old bloodstains that didn’t match Joseph’s wounds at all.

Why would a towel like this be in the motel bathroom? Calling it under-washed would be a massive understatement. It looked like it had been dragged through the blood. Joseph seemed to share Seojun’s unease, his face turning a sickly pale, his lips a faint blue. His eyes glazed over, his nostrils flaring wide as he struggled to form words.

Just as the confusion reached a boiling point, a knock at the door of Room 999 made Joseph’s body jerk like he’d been electrocuted. The sound was so realistic that even Seojun’s head swiveled to the right, instinctively checking his own door.

“W-who is it?” Joseph stuttered, his voice shaking as he exhaled.

The silence was deafening. Then, the knocking grew louder, more insistent.

Joseph shot a grim glance at the camera, his eyes wide with fear, and inched forward with caution. He crept down the short entryway hallway, approaching the door. The Decoy Motel, where ‘Real Life Situation!’ was supposedly being filmed, had a peephole lens that allowed a glimpse into the hallway outside. Joseph pressed the camera up against it, his hand trembling.

There, with his head bowed low, stood a cleaner. He wore a light blue shirt, black pants, and a white apron, clutching a metal bucket overflowing with cleaning supplies in one hand and a long mop in the other.

His black hair, which fell to his chest, completely hid his face. Water droplets dripped from the ends of his soaked hair, creating tiny puddles on the hallway floor.

Why did they send a cleaner to his door, of all people? Seojun’s hand tightened around his thin thigh, a nervous reflex. He needed something to hold onto, even if it was his own scrawny leg. That earlier phone call must have been a wrong number. No need to read too much into it.

Just then, Joseph ducked down, turning the camera to his face. He mouthed something, and Seojun’s eyes darted to the fallen guideline sheet nearby. Ah, safety guidelines, number 4. He remembered the phrase: Housekeeping will visit your room daily. Please let them in.

Sweat dripped down Joseph’s forehead as his hand trembled near the doorknob. But he couldn’t bring himself to turn it. Instead, he took a step back, then another, his footsteps muffled by the worn-out carpet. He held his breath, as if the slightest sound would give away his presence to the cleaner…

Joseph looked wound tighter than a spring, his eyes fixed on the door ahead. He didn’t have the peace of mind to take in his surroundings. So, when his foot caught on the slightly ajar bathroom door, he stumbled backward, completely caught off guard. If he’d just fallen, Joseph might’ve been able to catch himself and scramble to his feet. But when his scalded forearm slammed into the grimy carpet, a blood-curdling scream ripped from his throat.

“Aargh!”

The agonized scream echoed through the room, mingling with the sound of drool dripping from Joseph’s mouth as pain consumed him. The camera, now lying on the floor, made the room look like a distorted, square-shaped prison, trapping Joseph in his suffering.

Joseph’s screams were too loud, too close to hope that they would go unnoticed. Then, the sound of a palm slamming against the metal door echoed in rapid succession, each knock sending a jolt of fear through Joseph’s body.

Tap-tap-tap-tap!

The door shook violently, as if it would burst open at any moment.

“Aaaaaaah! Aaaah!”

You couldn’t blame Joseph for panicking and bolting towards the closest hiding place. It was a desperate move, like an ostrich burying its head in the sand, but Joseph didn’t realize it until he had already stumbled into the bathroom, shoulder slamming against the doorframe as he burst in. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the silence, along with a sinking realization that he was trapped.

He leaned against the door, which wouldn’t close all the way, and clutched the camera to his chest like a lifeline. Tears streamed down his face, leaving shiny trails on his cheeks as he raised the camera to eye level. The screen cast an unsettling blue hue on his features in the darkness, making his eyes appear otherworldly. His voice trembling, every word oozing with despair, he spoke.

“I don’t know what’s going on. Something’s off. Something’s really wrong…”

Joseph’s image on the screen started to shake and tremble as if the camera were an extension of his unsteady, trembling body. It was almost heartbreaking to see how fear had completely taken over his once playful and cheeky demeanor from the beginning of the film. His eyes, which once held a mischievous glint, now had a wild, desperate look that frantically darted around the claustrophobic bathroom. Seojun leaned in even more now, his attention fully engrossed in Joseph’s harrowing transformation from nonchalance to sheer panic and terror. He was so absorbed in the movie that he didn’t even realize he was leaning in so close.

Suddenly, a blinding white light erupted from the TV, searing Seojun’s eye, causing him to flinch and reflexively snap his eyelid shut. He tentatively opened his eye again after a moment, and saw that Joseph wore an expression of shocked surprise too. Seojun glanced at the screen, noting that the lights in the bathroom, which Joseph was trapped in, had been switched on. Since Joseph couldn’t have reached the switch outside, he knew it was something sinister at play.

Joseph’s ashen lips quivered as he gasped for air in quick, shallow breaths. He kept darting his terrified gaze over his shoulder towards the flimsy bathroom door, as if sensing an unseen presence lurking just beyond it.

Joseph’s eyes soon took on a glazed, panicked appearance, like he was desperately trying to maintain his focus in the face of mounting terror. His hand trembled violently as he shakily raised the camera, his strained expression mirroring his exhaustion. He swallowed hard, or at least attempted to, and the sound echoed menacingly through the small bathroom, intensifying the prevailing sense of dread.

“This is insane,” he whispered, his voice cracking with fear. “It’s freaking insane…”

The shaky camera, serving as Joseph’s terrified gaze, began to pan upward from his seated position on the freezing tiled floor. It shakily followed the path of the sink pipes, previously unassuming but now ominous in the harsh fluorescent light, before stopping at the sink itself. Joseph’s breath caught in his throat, just like it had when he’d filmed it earlier. But it was the mirror above the sink, now smeared with fresh, ghastly bloodstains, that sent a chill down his spine.

Open the door. Open the door. Open the door…

The message, scrawled in slick, dripping blood, was still fresh. The thick, viscous blood continued to creep down the mirror’s surface like a slow-motion nightmare.

Seojun’s thoughts raced back to when Joseph had first hurt his arm, and how the injury had been exacerbated by the scalding water from the sink. The mirror had been merely foggy with steam back then, but otherwise clean. So who had done this, and more importantly, when?

But no one was supposed to be in Room 999 except Joseph. Seojun knew this because Joseph had checked every nook and cranny himself the moment he’d entered. So who in the world had written those creepy letters?

TThe silence was abruptly broken by the loud crash of the camera falling onto the floor, revealing only a jarring image of the bathroom tiles on the TV screen. Immediately after, a thud reverberated through the room. The camera shook wildly, and for a split second, all that was visible through the blur was a bright green hue. As Joseph steadied the camera, the green turned out to be the waterproof shower curtain. In a strained and rasping voice, Joseph barely managed to report the newest horror as it unfolded.

“That thud came from inside the shower stall, guys.”

It was strange, but Joseph didn’t sound frightened or even remotely alarmed. His actions exuded a sense of calm as if he was more preoccupied with delivering the grim details to his subscribers than processing the spine-chilling situation he’s in.

“Now that I think about it, I haven’t checked in there yet.”

With a scarred, burned left arm, Joseph reached out and firmly gripped the curtain. Inch by inch, he pulled it back, making the metal rings rattle and clink against each other, creating an eerie sound that echoed from the TV.