The woman named Betty approached the Days Inn front desk and asked the female clerk about the reservation she had made with this particular hotel about three days ago. The female clerk typed a few keys on her computer and asked the lady named Betty a few questions. Betty answered them and finally the clerk gave her a card key and told her that her room was on the third floor. Lucky for Betty there was an elevator. For this lady named Betty (who was of twenty-seven years of age), had an extremely rare disease, the name of which I can neither spell nor pronounce. You see, whenever this young lady’s heart rate went above 150 beats per minute, she would faint, and if her heart rate went above 200 beats per minute she would die from shock. So she had to be extremely careful about everything she did. And she never, ever watched or read scary or suspenseful tales. To prevent her heart from accelerating to 200 beats per minute at night, she took specialized sleeping drops that caused her heart to reduce in speed radically. Therefore, if she had a bad dream, it would not affect her heart rate. Most of the time she was secluded so as to reduce any chances of heart rate acceleration. The only reason she was in the big city of Summers Dance was because her late uncle had died and had left her a small fortune that, according to his will, had to be collected in person. Finally her elevator arrived at the third floor and as quickly as possible found her room and entered. Upon entering she found, as she would describe it, a quaint living space. Finding her room adequate, she, instead of unpacking her one suitcase, undressed and went to sleep, for it was just now striking upon the twentieth hour, meaning 8:00 P.M.. After drifting to sleep she soon awoke in quite a panic. And even more shockingly she saw, standing at the foot of her bed a young girl with long frizzy blond hair who was wearing a white night gown. This being so startling, she immediately fainted. Two and a half hours after the first time she woke (which would have been 12:30 A.M.) she awoke once more and again, standing at the foot of her bed was the same girl, except naked, and spattered with blood. Betty’s heart rate quickly raced up past 150 beats per minute and she once more fainted. When she woke the next morning she remembered that she had not taken her specialized sleeping drops the night before and ascribed the apparition she saw to a bad dream. She got dressed and went to where she was to meet her brother who was her uncle’s lawyer. Once their business there was taken care of, she told her brother named John about the thing that had happened the night before. He listened intently and told her what she thought all along, it was simply a bad dream. But as they were walking out of the Mountain West Bank she remembered that she had found a small yellow post-it note on top the box T.V. that was in the hotel room, and since she had forgotten her reading glasses, she asked her brother John to read it. He agreed and read it out aloud.
MY NAME IS MAYBELLE NEDLESTROM
It read very distinctly.
The lady named Betty looked at her brother John (for she had been looking at two small children being escorted to a red mini-van by their mother) and saw a look of shock on his face. She asked him what was the matter and he answered with very few words. “Seven months ago a murder took place in the Days Inn hotel you were staying in. The girl who was murdered had blond hair and her white night gown was found on the hotel bed. When she was found dead she was nude and covered in someone else’s blood that they never found. The girls age, 17, her name, Maybelle Nedlestrom.” The two of them decided, because they were so shocked, that together they would throw away the note. But, if they had waited one half-minute longer, they would have seen the yellow post-it note turn blood red and dissolve into thin air.