Room No. 1304

 

*Krrk krrk*

The sound of the metal tap in room no. 1304.

Whenever someone opened or closed it, it let out a loud, grating *krrk krrk*.

It was a metal tap, cost-efficient for a low-budget motel. The public had given it a rating of one star out of five.

Most of the reviews were like: “Bad, poor quality, bed bugs beware! Is there even air to breathe inside the room?”

The worst one read: “I saw a dead body inside, and the owner said it was his father, drunk, who fell in the bathtub, and he would clear him soon.”

This could sum up how the motel runs today.

Nobody was willing to stay there even for a single night. Sometimes, people stepped under its roof when it rained, but they left quickly—before the rain even stopped—because of the terrible smell drifting out of the chimney.

Yes, they had a canteen—a small cafeteria, as they called it—and they even provided complimentary food for the guests. But no one ever bothered to go near it.

Rotten bread, carrots that were most probably half-eaten by rats—they all looked disgusting. Anyone who entered the canteen and glanced at the food would leave immediately. They didn’t want to get sick and spend another day bedridden in this motel.

What if I told you the tap I mentioned was possessed by a ghost or some dark magic? Yes, the tap spat out blood when it was opened.

The owner checked the tank on the terrace—it had fresh, pure water (not completely fresh)—but the tap still gave out blood. They even brought a plumber to check it twice, maybe thrice, but no one could find the reason for the blood flowing out of it. Even the police came and tried to solve it. No matter who came, the tap never stopped spitting blood.

The owner of the motel, Mr. Ubekshai, was a lazy man who took everything for granted. In his mid-fifties, he wore a full white French beard and had surprisingly dark hair for his age (probably dyed). He took terrible care of the motel—living in it as if it didn’t even exist. He moved through life with effortless neglect, the kind that quietly rotted everything around him. He never cared for the place, never lifted a hand to fix a thing, yet somehow always found time to maintain his appearance and keep himself clean, as if he alone deserved the attention.

He had tried every possible way to uncover the reason. Nothing worked. At last, he thought of removing the tap, but whenever he tried, he experienced an electric shock, as if it was not allowing him to touch it. Something was definitely wrong with it.

It had been a month since the blood had been flowing through it, and he didn’t care after a week—just like how he cared for the other rooms. Even the police stopped caring about it. They thought it might be some rat or something dead between the pipes, and that may have been the reason.

One night, when Ubekshai was checking the locks of every vacant rooms (almost everyth room), he came across the possessed tap room, 1304. He entered it and switched on every light. In the bathroom, he could see the tap shining in the light of a yellow bulb hanging precariously, almost as if it were about to fall. He went near it, put his whole hand on the tap handle, and turned it to the left.

The tap opened, and for a brief moment, nothing seemed to appear. He held his breath, hoping for water and not blood. To his relief, a single drop of water carefully slid along the nozzle and fell onto the floor. The floor, to be honest, looked more like a crime scene. He didn’t even care to clean the bloodstains—the floor was literally a crime scene.

As he watched a drop of water hit the floor, his eyes widened with excitement. A smile appeared on his face. He turned the tap aggressively, spinning it fully to the left to open it completely. For a moment, he saw nothing. He worried that he hadn’t switched on the motor, since one was there in the motel. But to his surprise, water rushed through the nozzle, hitting the floor hard, making it look like the Courtalam waterfall.

As he gazed at it, he saw something unusual coming out of the tap.

Good God ! what in the world?! He opened his mouth in shock, covered it with his hand, and stepped back quickly, bumping into the door behind him.

He saw something he never thought he would witness in his entire lifetime: human fingers—one by one. First the pinky, then the long finger, followed by the others. One by one, all ten fingers fell hard onto the floor, and human flesh started pouring out of it. It was brutal. He dared not touch the tap again. He almost fainted. Grabbing the door behind him, he stood still, watching human flesh pour out of the tap, knowing what he had to do next.

He closed the tap, closed the door, grabbed his car keys, and rushed straight to the police station, reporting everything he saw. They all returned to the motel—it was midnight.

As they arrived, Mr. Ubekshai pointed them to room no. 1304. Three police officers approached the scene: a sub-inspector (SI) and two constables. The SI went forward and opened the door, all following him. Ubekshai helped by pointing to the bathroom. The SI opened it and saw blood all over the floor, with human flesh and fingers everywhere. The smell was unbearable. They covered their noses and mouths.

As he approached the tap and reopened it, nothing appeared at first, but then blood started pouring out. The SI had been to the motel before, and since only blood came out last time, he thought it might be some rats or snakes blood. But now he knew he was wrong—it was worse than anything.

They went up to the terrace to checked the tank and saw nothing but water. They immediately called a plumber, who hesitated at first, knowing he couldn’t fix it. He had already checked it thrice and found no problem. But since the SI personnaly called from his cellphone, he came again and confirmed there was no problem with the pipeline. He added: “To check completely, we would have to demolish the building wall and see if there is anything underneath it.” Since the pipes go through the wall, they have to break open the walls of the main hall and the bathroom.

All eyes turned to Mr. Ubekshai. He knew what he had to do. It is time to break open the wall, but he was okay with it, since it was only one room.

The next morning, the police officers came with workers and started demolishing the wall completely. After an hour of work, the walls of both the main hall and bathroom were completely stripped, revealing plumbing and electrical wiring. They all looked messy and worse. The workers continued dismantling the pipes. There was no evidence of any blood spill or anything related to blood, except it was wet with water and some algae and salt that came with the water.

After the inspection, they reported that there was no blood or anything unusual.

The police were completely confused and slightly worried, as they had never seen anything like this before. They even thought it might be an act by the owner to get more customers, but this type of story actually pushes customers away. So what could be the reason behind the fingers and the blood?

They left, taking the fingers in a plastic bag and blood samples, leaving Mr. Ubekshai with the broken walls. He had insurance and knew how to claim it. Using the money, he rebuilt the walls completely. Months passed, and after rebuilding from scratch, it looked like a luxury suite room meant only for billionaires. It looked amazing and smelled good. Reconstructing the walls made the room three times better than its previous state.

But Ubekshai thought that changing the tap and pipes would cost too much, so he left them untouched. He planned to use the remaining money for something more useful. He then went inside the bathroom and checked the tap. This time, only water flowed through it.

He was happy, but the case wasn’t solved.

The police, after hearing that no blood came out of the tap, left the case hanging. They cared little about it. They even checked the fingers and blood samples against the list of guests who had stayed there in the last couple of months. No one claimed them.

A year passed. The police station received a call from the motel—it was Mr. Ubekshai.

“Help me! Help me!” he screamed, his voice shaking with fear.

“Come to the motel… please, come quickly!”

Hearing the panic in his voice, the officers immediately gathered details and rushed to the motel.

The SI, who had been to the motel before, barreled toward the scene with the three constables on duty. He stormed through the reception, heart racing, and shouted:

“Ubekshai! Mr. Ubekshai! Where are you?!”

They heard a banging sound nearby.

They rushed outside; the sound was loud and coming from the same room where the incident happened—1304.

They all ran toward it. The police tried to open the door, but it was stuck, locked from inside.

The SI banged on the door and called out:

“Ubekshai! Ubekshai! You inside? Are you okay?”

“Help! Help!!” Mr. Ubekshai shouted back in agony and panic.

“Step back, all of you!” the SI shouted to his fellow officers, gesturing toward the door.

He swung his heavy boot against the door. The wood cracked, and the door flew open, crashing violently into the room as if it had never been built properly.

The officers stormed inside. They heard sounds coming from the same bathroom where they had witnessed the blood flowing from the tap. They burst through the door and, to their terror, were met with a sight that would haunt them for the rest of their lives—something no police officers in their entire careers had ever witnessed.

It was Ubekshai getting sucked into the tap.

Yes. Into the tap.

The small tap was trying to suck his whole body in, crushing him like a python crushing its prey into a small size to swallow easily.

Half of his hand was inside the nozzle, and blood sprayed out of it. It looked like the tap was devouring him completely.

The officer was shocked and couldn’t understand what was happening, but he had to take immediate action. He took out his gun from the holster and started shooting at the tap, but it was in vain. The tap showed no reaction; it continued devouring Ubekshai as if the bullets meant nothing.

As time passed, Ubekshai’s whole body started to get crushed, as if he were being sucked into a vacuum cleaner. His shoulder shortened along with his jaw, and everything got sucked into the tap faster. His jaw was crushed against his shoulder, leaving him unable to make a sound.

Two of the constables tried pulling him from the other side, and the other went out to see if they could bring something to get him out.

Everything failed. Ubekshai was completely crushed and totally sucked into the tap.

The strange thing, more than what was happening, was that the tap didn’t even sustain any damage. It was a medium-sized, regular tap, but when it was sucking him in, the nozzle appeared bigger and wider, more like it had come alive and started eating him.

The police officers were completely confused, not knowing what was happening, and they failed miserably to rescue Ubekshai.

After the tap completely sucked in Ubekshai, with blood splashing and spilling everywhere, the officers stepped back out of the bathroom. The SI sat down in the floor at the entrance and watched the tap from the hall, visible to him, reacting to the most gruesome crime scene he had ever witnessed.

He saw the floor filled with blood and Mr. Ubekshai’s cell phone lying flat on the floor, drenched in blood. One of the constables was lying back against the wall of the main hall, and the other sat beside the SI, trying to understand what had just happened.

They were all so confused that they didn’t even care to do anything further. Everyone was silent, sitting in the same place for an hour.

The bathroom was filled with blood everywhere; the white tiles could barely be seen. The tap was completely covered with blood. It looked as if it were tired of eating a full plate of food.

Their faces and shirts were covered in blood. Their faces were filled with panic, fear, and confusion. Their wide-open eyes made them look like they were unfit for this job. They had witnessed a crime which neither they nor anyone could solve. They knew they had entered a situation they had never experienced before.

They all looked at the tap as if it were a bloodthirsty monster—and yes, it was—a monster in the shape of a water tap, covered in blood. As they stared at it, a drop of blood slowly slid down the nozzle, fell onto the floor, and mixed with the blood pool.