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Broken Toe







The storm raged, a relentless battering against the cheap motel that held me captive. My early flight loomed, a cruel promise of dawn I desperately needed the tempest to fulfill. Only then could I stomach the prospect of the greasy spoon down the highway. A sharp rap at my door shattered the tense silence. I flung it open, but the hallway remained empty, swallowed by the storm’s roar. Then, another knock, this time at the window. The rain lashed against the glass, a distorted lens obscuring the source. Through the watery veil, I discerned something pale and thin – a finger, perhaps, pressed against the pane, the rest of the figure a blurred, indistinct mass.

Abruptly, the rain ceased, leaving a suffocating stillness in its wake. Driven by a morbid curiosity, I threw on my raincoat and ventured into the hallway. There, crimson droplets marred the faded carpet, a gruesome trail as if some limb had been severed by a brutal, clean cut. I saw the front desk clerk, her face contorted in pain, a paramedic hovering nearby. Panic clawed at me. I bolted outside, fumbling for my car keys. As I tried to reverse, a sickening thud reverberated from beneath the chassis. I crouched down, the beam of my phone illuminating a sight that froze my blood: a severed toe, slick with blood, the bone protruding starkly from the mangled flesh.

I stumbled back inside, heart hammering against my ribs, but the front desk was deserted. The lights flickered and died, plunging the lobby into an oppressive darkness. Then, a slow, scraping sound from the doorway, something sliding across the floor, drawing closer. A faint tap against my foot – a chillingly gentle touch. It was there, just beside my shoe, an unseen presence beckoning me into the darkness. Sweat beaded on my forehead, my breath catching in my throat. The image of the severed toe, the raw, exposed bone, played on repeat in my mind, a macabre film reel of horror.

The lights snapped back on, revealing the front desk clerk, her expression strangely neutral. She told me I had to leave the room. Apparently, the previous occupant had either lost a toe that morning or suffered from disturbingly vivid nightmares of being pursued by one. As I checked out, I noticed a stark white bandage wrapped around the clerk’s own big toe, as if recently injured. I dared to ask about it, but her eyes turned cold, her lips tightening into a thin, unyielding line. She refused to speak, leaving me with a chilling certainty that the storm had brought something far more sinister than just rain.


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