On the outskirts of an ancient and forgotten town, Rafiq walked into an older motel late one evening. Since the storm outside had reached a very great pitch, he had been driving across the prairie for six hours and he had no choice but to stop. The receptionist was an old man, his eyes were glassy, gave him the key to Room 313-only one that was left.
As Rafiq climbed the groaning stairs, a cold air current came up to meet him in the hallway. The door of Room 313 screamed protest when he opened it. The room seemed heavy, as if it had not been opened in years. On the wall, there was a painting of a woman with eyes like deep well pipes, which looked straight at the bed.
Rafiq tried to sleep, but it just didn't feel OK. And then, just after 3:13 A.M., the door creaked open.At once his heart leaped at the noise."Hello?" he called out, but there was no reply whatsoever. And then he realized--the painting was the focus of his attention now.The woman's eyes were no longer on the bed; they were on him instead.
For fear he could not move, Rafiq turned to the mirror. Behind him he could see a pale woman in a black dress, mouth opened in a soundless scream. When he turned around no one was there.
Suddenly the lights all went out.
Rafiq fumbled for his phone, CELL FLASH on. There was a message carved above the bed. "Leave before she's chosen you."He did not obey. After getting his belongings, he rushed from the room. But as he ran down the stairway, something in the hall made him jump what was left of those hairs on his neck - every picture had now turned into one and same woman. Her gaze followed him. Morning dawns coldly for Rafiq the next day. 'That was no Room 313,” he told the receptionist.
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