Post by dante on Jul 13, 2010 21:06:16 GMT -5
In it's glory, New York's Ritz hotel, simply known as the Ritz, was easily world class. Everyone who was anyone would book a suite here. Of course, that was then, a then that occurred when America still made the best cars and women and minorities had no legal rights. And this is now, a now that that revealed an abandoned and disrepaired Ritz.
Where once the walls echoed with laughter, conversations and band music, they were now silent. Where once people crowded around gambling tables or bars or wooed women, the areas were now vacant and white sheets placed over most of the remaining furniture. Where once every corner was lit up, darkness covered the entire area.
As with many things, the Ritz's decline began subtly and from within. Guests reported hearing and seeing strange things at first, back in the mid sixties. Then came the murders and disappearances some years later. Rumors spread, some wild and unfounded, others not so much. With their spread, the once lavish, grand and palace-like hotel attracted fewer and fewer guests. Finally, business collapsed and the Ritz shut down.
It was an awful waste of space though. A few people tried to buy it and get it back up and running again, but business would always turn sour. Others would try buy the property itself so they could demolish the old hotel and put up something else, but they always met with a horrible fate.
Some say the place is haunted. Others say cursed, perhaps buried on an ancient Indian burial ground. While others say it is a gateway into another plane of existence, perhaps to Hell itself. Still, others say it's all just a bunch of urban legend nonsense and that there's absolutely nothing wrong with the hotel. Still, the Ritz's grizzly reputation is more infamous now than stories of it once being a world glass vacation spot.
This was why the current owner was hosting his contest. The rules were simple. Bring whatever supplies or weapons that would make you feel safe, short of bringing any type of vehicle in, and stay one night in the hotel. Each person to make it to sunrise gets paid a million dollars cash, right on the spot.
Being constantly in debt and always up adventure, Dante jumped at the offer. Besides, business was slow. Normally he wouldn't fool around with such nonsense, considering it a publicity stunt. Normally, he'd throw the invitation in the trash and continue to recline at his desk, in his office. But instead, he accepted. Instead of reclining in his office's chair, Dante sat slouched in an old, abandoned armchair. His trusty sword, Rebellion, leaned against his chair, dimly lit, and the white sheet that once covered the old chair now lay on the floor.
There were other chairs around him, as the room he sat in now used to be the lobby area, and a table in the center. On the table, there were once various magazines, flowers, bowels, vases and other decorations. Now, only a lamp burned on its bare surface. An oil lamp, since power had long ago been shut off to this place.
No TV, no radio, no computer, no nothing. Except beer. Dante reached into his cooler, which was on the opposite side of his chair as Rebellion was on, and grabbed a cold one. Best not to drink them all too fast though. After all, the sun had only now gone down and he had several more hours of waiting before dawn...
Where once the walls echoed with laughter, conversations and band music, they were now silent. Where once people crowded around gambling tables or bars or wooed women, the areas were now vacant and white sheets placed over most of the remaining furniture. Where once every corner was lit up, darkness covered the entire area.
As with many things, the Ritz's decline began subtly and from within. Guests reported hearing and seeing strange things at first, back in the mid sixties. Then came the murders and disappearances some years later. Rumors spread, some wild and unfounded, others not so much. With their spread, the once lavish, grand and palace-like hotel attracted fewer and fewer guests. Finally, business collapsed and the Ritz shut down.
It was an awful waste of space though. A few people tried to buy it and get it back up and running again, but business would always turn sour. Others would try buy the property itself so they could demolish the old hotel and put up something else, but they always met with a horrible fate.
Some say the place is haunted. Others say cursed, perhaps buried on an ancient Indian burial ground. While others say it is a gateway into another plane of existence, perhaps to Hell itself. Still, others say it's all just a bunch of urban legend nonsense and that there's absolutely nothing wrong with the hotel. Still, the Ritz's grizzly reputation is more infamous now than stories of it once being a world glass vacation spot.
This was why the current owner was hosting his contest. The rules were simple. Bring whatever supplies or weapons that would make you feel safe, short of bringing any type of vehicle in, and stay one night in the hotel. Each person to make it to sunrise gets paid a million dollars cash, right on the spot.
Being constantly in debt and always up adventure, Dante jumped at the offer. Besides, business was slow. Normally he wouldn't fool around with such nonsense, considering it a publicity stunt. Normally, he'd throw the invitation in the trash and continue to recline at his desk, in his office. But instead, he accepted. Instead of reclining in his office's chair, Dante sat slouched in an old, abandoned armchair. His trusty sword, Rebellion, leaned against his chair, dimly lit, and the white sheet that once covered the old chair now lay on the floor.
There were other chairs around him, as the room he sat in now used to be the lobby area, and a table in the center. On the table, there were once various magazines, flowers, bowels, vases and other decorations. Now, only a lamp burned on its bare surface. An oil lamp, since power had long ago been shut off to this place.
No TV, no radio, no computer, no nothing. Except beer. Dante reached into his cooler, which was on the opposite side of his chair as Rebellion was on, and grabbed a cold one. Best not to drink them all too fast though. After all, the sun had only now gone down and he had several more hours of waiting before dawn...