Young Writers Society

I wrote this story last year for one of my English class assignments. i intended on expanding it but i have so many project to work on. hope you enjoy.


The Old Maple Oak Hotel

The Old Maple Oak Hotel was once a travel hot spot for those passing through Maple Oak, Maine. It was a very tall building, ten stories to be exact. On any given day there were somewhere around 200 guest and over fifty employees. The surrounding scenery was beautiful, a small lake laid behind it and the whole hotel was surrounded by a small forest filled with wildlife.
It is not like that anymore.
In 2016 a man entered the hotel. He was carrying a chain and had two shotguns slung around his shoulders. He wore a vest filled with bullets and a series of knives and handguns. He used the chain to fasten all the doors shut, trapping all the guests and employees inside. He rounded up all the guests in the lobby and forced them to walk up the stairs. On every floor he had one of the hostages knock on the doors to the hotel room. When the person would open the door this man would shot them with his shotgun. Those who heard the blasts and came to investigate were killed as soon as they looked into the hallways.
He did this on every floor until he reached the top. This is where he forced the remaining guest to line up on the edge of the hotel roof. One by one he shot the guests and one by one they rained down on the police forces below. The man just finished off the last hostage and he threw a crumpled note down to the police. Then the S.W.A.T team busted through the roof door. The man fired shots at the team then dove from the roof himself, firing at the police below.
The man was 22 year old Jeremiah Grant and he led a cult called “LIVED”, which is devil spelled backwards. On that same day there were thirty other random shootings across the U.S. and every shooter carried a note that said “The LIVED was here.”
500 American people were murdered by those shooters, but none of the other shootings had a body count as high as the Maple Oaks Hotel. In all 213 people were killed. Three guest and ten S.W.A.T members made it out of the hotel alive, but all were murdered exactly three days later. On their arms the word LIVED was carved deep into their flesh.
After that day, no matter who you are, whether you are a policeman or a bum looking for a warm place to stay, if you step foot into the Hotel you will be dead three days later, if the hotel hadn’t killed you first.
Even though I had heard the stories. Even though I saw the news reports, I found myself standing at the front gate of the Maple Oaks Hotel. It was foolish of me, but ten thousand dollars was a hard deal to pass up. Plus I wasn’t going to be the only one there. With me there were eleven others going for the money. All we had to do was make it to the top, a feat that is rumored to insure your survival.
So reluctantly I stood at those gates, nervously I listened for the go ahead, then slowly I stepped forward onto the property. The building stood tall on a bright, sunny hot day, although the second I stepped inside the front doors the temperature dropped and the light dimmed.
The lobby walls were brown with mold and in many places the floors and walls were still stained with blood. The ceiling was dripping and it formed deep puddles in the middle of the floor. What else can one expect from thirty years of abandonment?
One of the men in the group spoke up. “We should stick together; this place looks like a death trap.” This man was tan, too tan. He definitely wasn’t a local.
“Where are you from?” I asked him.
He looked at me confused. “I’m from L.A. Why does it matter?”
“I take it you have heard the stories about this place.” He nodded. “Then you should already know that you’re going to die anyways… unless you make it to the top of course. Go together, die together. It is your choice but for me, no one is slowing me down.” I began to walk off; I looked back briefly to see their scared faces looking to each other for guidance. They had no clue
Somehow I was surprised when none of them chased after me. I didn’t care. I had nothing to lose. Everyone I loved, my parents and my best friend, they had died because of the building. It drew them in and spit them out like an old piece of gum. I needed that money but in a way I needed to defeat this cursed building, once and for all.
I came upon the elevator with its rusty metal doors. I thought for a second and came to the conclusion that the stairs were defiantly safer. So I tugged on the door, it was jammed. I braced myself and pulled harder.
The door broke loose then slowly swung open revealing a stair case with bright white walls and a perfectly polished floor. I stepped in confused. I felt something drop on my face and my first instinct was to wipe it off. On the tips of my fingers was blood. Petrified, I looked up and saw a woman in high heels and a business suit run towards me. Before I could move she ran through me and the stairs quickly flashed back to the way they should have looked, just as murky and foul as the rest of the building.
The ghosts were playing games with my mind. They didn’t want me there, but I moved on. I climbed up four floors until a broken beam and a collapsed wall blocked my path.
I stared on the door that separated the stairs from the dirty corridor. Under a small touch it came crashing to the floor causing some of the floor to cave in. I took a step forward and my foot went into the rotted floor. I fell down face first.
I looked up and saw a bald man in a Hawaiian shirt. He knelt down beside me. I stared at him angrily. “He’s coming. You should go, NOW!” he yelled. “RUN!”
I jumped up quickly. The bald man disappeared. I looked around for him but all I saw was a bloody scrap of his shirt, only now it wasn’t so bright and cheerful.
I looked at the shirt and said “Never”. I wasn’t going anywhere except to the top. I brushed myself off and headed to the opposite side of the hall. I knew there was an elevator there too. I walked through the building quickly. The ceiling had caved in at many places and so had the floor. I had gotten over seeing the blood stains that lined the hall and could be seen on the insides of the rooms.
The other stairwell was open. I darted up another four stories when I heard a strange grumbling sound. As it approached I knew exactly what was happening. “Idiots.” I said quietly to myself. Just then I heard a loud snap as the rusted elevator cable broke sending the other competitors back to the ground floor, forever. “Hopefully they all weren’t stupid enough to take the easy way out.” I said aloud, and then I again ascended the stairs.
I climbed halfway up the next flight of stairs but at the top I saw a pile of old furniture. It was mostly chairs and mattresses piled together. They were blocking the door to the tenth floor. This wasn’t put there on accident. I began puling on the decayed fabric. I flung everything down the stairs. I reached in and grabbed one of the wooden frames and yanked on it. It didn’t even budge. I pulled harder and harder until it finally broke free sending me down a flight of stairs with it.
I had bashed my head on one of the stairs. A smell entered the air; it was so strong. I gagged. I covered my nose then went back to the pile. On the floor in front of me laid three bodies. They were young adults, probably college kids. Their mangled bodies gave no hint of their identities but the hotel had killed them for the word LIVED was carved into each of their arms.
I pulled down a mattress resting above them and the whole pile caved in, burying the bodies. I climbed to the top and squeezed through the furniture and ceiling. On the other side was the door. I kicked it open.
The tenth floor hallway was dark, darker then the rest of the hotel, but still light enough to see. I began to run. All of a sudden I tripped.
Over someone’s foot.
From the shadows of one of the rooms emerged a man dressed in black and carrying a shotgun in his hands. He looked at me then presented a piece of chalk from his pocket. I watched him paralyzed with fear. He drew a star on the floor beside me. “Who are you?” I asked my voice was soft and shaky.
“Why it’s your uncle Jeremiah.” He answered. He pulled out a long curved dagger.
“You are not my Uncle! Not anymore!” I yelled “You killed my father! You killed your own brother!”
He laughed. “Your father was scum.” He said calmly.
“He was not!” In a desperate act I jumped up and charged at him. He moved and grabbed my arm as I flew by. He pulled me into the circle. He cut his hand open and let the blood drip on each of the five outside triangles of the star.
“You are a Grant, Riley, and we all were killers.” His eyes turned solid black, his voice deepened and sounded monstrous. “My brother abandoned us and turned to God. He was a coward! Oh, but you- Riley, you can bring the grant legacy back. You can continue our work!” His words made the walls shake.
He touched his dead bloody hand to my cheek. I slapped his hand away and jumped backwards. The outside of the circle burst into flames. It encased me in the center of the pentagram. I felt overwhelmed. I fell to my knees. A presence had taken me over and made me want to kill. I tried to fight it, I tried to stand up. “You pathetic imbecile!” he yelled. “You can feel it can’t you? It’s taking you over and you can’t even fight it.”
His words infuriated me. “I will never give in.” I pulled my mother’s old cross out of my pocket and held it high. My hand burned as the metal turned hot. I felt myself gain control again. I reached into my other pocket and pulled out a vial of blessed water.
His laughter roared through the corridors. “You think your silly trinkets can defeat me?” the fire rose higher and so did the temperature.
“Yeah I do.” I said confidently. “Suck on this!” I yelled throwing the vial to the center of the pentagram. White spirits encircled us.
I leaped through the flames and tackled Jeremiah. We struggled on the floor. With my crossed wrapped tightly around my wrist I hit him. I hit him harder over and over again. The white spirits circled me and I felt it making me stronger. I over powered him and grabbed his dagger from the floor. He grabbed my arms and tried to hold me back. I pushed harder and the dagger went straight into his undead heart.
I stood up next to him. “There was never any money was there?” I asked and then spit on his body. His body caught fire and spread to the one on the pentagram. Soon half the tenth floor was engulfed in flames.
I ran to the stairs only to find the fire had already beaten me there. Desperate for a way out I panicked and went to the elevator. The sound of crashing beams could be heard behind me. With all the strength I had left I pulled open the rusted doors. The flames kept coming closer.
Without a second thought it jumped into the empty elevator shaft. My wrist banged off the ladder on the opposite side and I fell down a story before I caught myself on one of the ladder’s rungs. In pain I climbed down the other eight stories and ran out the front doors.
Police cars and fire trucks were lined up at the gate when I came out. I could only imagine what I looked like. Probably like a crazed skinny seventeen year old with bloody blond hair, with dirty and torn clothing, and a broken wrist. As I walked out a police man grabbed me. “Did you do that?” he asked rather calmly.
“No, it was my uncle Jeremiah.” I said holding my wrist. “But don’t expect to arrest him because he’s up there burning.”
The officer looked me over then motioned to some paramedics. They told me I should go to the hospital to get checked out. I politely refused and sat in the ambulance and watched the hotel burn.
The hotel burned for three days and no amount of water could put it out. The fire burned itself out and all that was left was the concrete foundation. And burned into it was the word
LIVED.
The end

Hey, was an ok story though probably too short.
You need to work on character development a little before you start exorcising demons, I didn't really get a sense of what the main character was like at all. Also I felt we spent too much time on the stairs, do we really need all of that?

I came upon the elevator with its rusty metal doors. I thought for a second and came to the conclusion that the stairs were defiantly safer. So I tugged on the door, it was jammed. I braced myself and pulled harder.

From that it appears that the narrator is opening the elevator doors, which isn't (I think) what you mean.

As I walked out a police man grabbed me. “Did you do that?” he asked rather calmly.

Calmly? A building is on fire, someone walks out all bloody and the police man is calm?

I asked and then spit on his body

spat

Anyway, if you've got other projects probably work on them, I think the devil cult thing is a little passe

Hey Hammerkid. Evi here.

In 2016 a man entered the hotel.

I don't think you need to include 2016. It adds a date stamp to your story, which makes it seem a bit less relatable-- like something either happens too far into the future or back in the past --even though this story is something that seems to work well with the current time period.

Also, I started out not liking your first paragraph and all it's background description about the hotel, but because of that 'It is not like that anymore' I changed my mind. I really liked the effect that line gave, but you may want to make the first paragraph's descriptions sound even more like a paradise. Build up the Hotel so much that, when you tear it down, the contrast is more obvious. And, in a way, ironic.

The man was 22 year old Jeremiah Grant

Always spell out numbers that can be spelled with two words or less, like nine, four-thousand, and twenty-two. Same thing in the next paragraphs.

Three guests and ten S.W.A.T members made it out of the hotel alive, but all were murdered exactly three days later.

Guests, plural. Don't forget subject-verb agreement. Reading over a story once will easily fix these little typos, however, so it's not a big deal.

Even though I had heard the stories. Even though I saw the news reports, I found myself standing at the front gate of the Maple Oaks Hotel.

I think you should combine that first fragment with the second sentence. Otherwise it doesn't really make sense, and the flow is erratic.

So reluctantly I stood at those gates, nervously I listened for the go ahead, then slowly I stepped forward onto the property.

Too many adverbs. xD Try to use them in moderation, because adverbs like "slowly" are a lot of telling how something is done, instead of showing. 'Reluctantly' and 'nervously' all hint that your character is uneasy, so maybe you can rephrase the sentence like:

I stood at those gates uneasily, listening for the go ahead. Then, slowly, I stepped forward onto the property.

Somehow I was surprised when none of them chased after me. I didn’t care. I had nothing to lose. Everyone I loved, my parents and my best friend, they had died because of the building. It drew them in and spit them out like an old piece of gum. I needed that money but in a way I needed to defeat this cursed building, once and for all.

This paragraph is wonderful. <3 Really, it has that lovely metaphor and some great insight into the character's mindset and motivation. If you can insert more of these emotional motives, your writing will only get better,

So I tugged on the door, it was jammed.

Check out this article on semi-colons. That comma should be a semi-colon.

The ghosts were playing games with my mind. They didn’t want me there, but I moved on. I climbed up four floors until a broken beam and a collapsed wall blocked my path.

I'd like to see you expand a bit more on this ghost idea. Does your MC believe in them? I suppose so, or else he wouldn't be saying this. But in a place reeking of death, ghosts-- in the story or not --would play a big part in your characters' thought processes. See if you can elaborate about them.

I liked the story, actually. It was definitely very creepy, with all the description about the dead bodies and everything. O_o I think you could work a bit on a couple of things, however.

a.) Commas. Read your work out loud, and wherever you pause, add a comma. Your missing some crucial pauses in your sentences, and it'll make your work sound rushed or immature.

b.) "I did this, I did that". You have a lot of sentences beginning with 'I'. That's understandable, of course, in a first person narrative, but on those paragraphs where Riley's just going through motions, consider breaking up his actions with description, or having another object 'do' the action instead. Instead of saying, "I knocked down the door", for example, try, "The door crumpled at my touch". Or something like that.

c.) Detatched prose. You have that one lovely paragraph where we really get into your character's head, but I don't that in many other places, really. Try to make those connections, use those metaphors, tap into those emotions. Otherwise it becomes a bit gory-- dead bodies and blood and burning, and lacking anything sentimental or uplifting. I understand it's not a happy story, lol. xD But if you can connect more with Riley's emotions throughout the piece, it'll be less about a scary hotel and more about a person whose life is affected by this cursed place.

A very nice job, just needs some fine tuning! Keep working on it, and keep writing. You can PM me for anything.

~Evi

Well it was okay. I like the idea but you didnt get into it at all, we don't even know if the main character if male or female!

When the person would open the door this man would shot them with his shotgun.

You should put this man would shoot them and kill them, you dont need to say shotgun. I'm not trying to be offensive but it wasnt really a well put together story. At times you would give many details then at others you would leave the readng wondering. Plus how is the hotel killing these people. When did the police arrive, did they just magically appear there? Are they always stationed there? Explian more. If you are going to be serious about this story, it needs to be longer. This story does have potential.


~Jasmine~