The Red

A chilling narrative poem about a weary traveller who seeks rest in a motel storeroom, only to discover that the cries of a woman behind a locked door conceal a far more terrifying truth.

A place for rest was all he needed
He was a traveller in quest of new
Uncle to my friend, a common man
Know not his features, just that he exists
No one has seen him, yet we all heard of him
He was a traveller looking for a place to rest
He saw a motel, small and dark
Being a man, he feared no one

He approached the reception
Looking for shelter and sleep
The man warned of the full house dilemma
Traveller begged for a place to rest his head
The man in concern shrugged helplessly
Traveller eyed the storeroom and pleaded
Let him sleep in there; he just needed a place to rest
Reluctantly, the man passed him the key

Traveller settled himself comfortably in the storeroom
Late in the night, he woke to cries of a woman
Looking around, he found a door at the end of the storeroom
Looking through the keyhole, he saw a woman in white
She was crying her heart out with no care for the world
He wanted to comfort her, but was unable to
As he had a feeling to leave the lady alone
He let the women be and went back to sleep

He has awakened again by louder cries
He went to the keyhole again
But was faced with red
Assuming the lady sought her solitude
And had left one of her dupattas to cover the keyhole
He went back to sleep

In the morning, he asked the receptionist
Why is there a lady in the room inside the storeroom?
The man looked up in horror and said
“She is no human.”
He asked the traveller if he saw red while looking
Traveller said that he had seen a red dupatta when he checked the second time
Receptionist, in fear, answers that it was no dupatta
“It was her eyes looking at you, watching you in the night.”

The traveller never travelled again.