Old Man's Bones

He took the bag of coins, throwing it over his shoulder. - Not without struggle. It took an attempt or two. He lugged it around the city until he found a bar that doubled as an apartment. He went inside, people spoke and danced, enjoying life while they would. He walked to the waitress serving at the bar. "Hello sir, what could I get you tonight?" She spun around to the drinks that were plastered on the wall. "I'll just take a room." 

Everybody seemed to stop. The bar went completely silent. The waitress slowly turned her head. He noticed she seemed to be sweating from the mention of a room. "Are you sure? Do you want to change your mind and come back later?" she whispered to him in an angry tone. "Yes, I'm sure. I want a room now, please." She sighed and took a key off the wall next to the drinks. 

"You're in room number three." She said gloomily. He took the key, placed some coins on the bar, and went upstairs to find his room. Once fully up the stairs, he heard everything go back to normal. All the cheer and dancing continued as if nothing had happened. He walked down the long hallway that housed the doors of the rooms. All of the doors were backward: going from fifty down to one.

It was an odd way of organizing the rooms. Maybe it was an accident. Nonetheless, he continued his seemingly never ending trip down to his room. Every room had various airs to them. Different noises sought through the walls. Some made him almost wish he were deaf. Almost.

He opened the door to his temporary room using the key. It was like any other room. - Small and cramped. He went and sat on the bed. It was old and he could tell the springs were rusted down. Nothing about it exactly said 'well maintained.' There were cobwebs everywhere, and some kind of liquid leaking from the ceiling.

Most of that was the least of his "worries." What he was worried about was why everyone seemed so scared of him getting a room. Sure, the others were all filled - But shouldn't they have occupied this room, first? Was there something wrong with room three?

A knock at the door jerks him out of his thoughts. He walked over to the door and opened it without thought. He saw a slim old man, he looked almost… dead. Sickly, maybe. "H… Hello, young man. I wanted to ask if you want to switch rooms." He was puzzled. "What do you mean?" The old man also looked confused. "Did they not tell you? Well, I guess I can. This room, they say, is cursed." The old man started to get frustrated, as if he said something he wasn't supposed to. 

"Well, we don't have to switch rooms. How about you go back to your room? I'll be fine." He gave a warm and calming smile. "Ok, I'll go back, you be careful though... People have died in that room." The old man said, leaving him in eerie silence. If it truly was cursed, why even have the room open? Questions, questions, questions, yet no answer to any of them. If he had to find out for himself, so be it.

It was the afternoon now. That gave him time to figure some things out. He got back up and took off his coat, leaving it on the bed. He looked around, trying to find any clue about what was going on. He saw a hole in the corner of the room. He approaches, red, beady eyes meeting his.

It was like neither could move. It was an endless staring contest. Eventually, the red eyes ran at him. He got up in time and dodged them… A rat. A simple rodent. - a very sickly looking rat. Maybe the people dying were only getting diseases from rats. The more he inspected it, the more he realized it resembled the old man.

He got up and walked out of his room. As soon as he did he saw the old man on the ground, not moving an inch. He walked over to him and it was a fact.

The old man was dead.