Room 1408Even if you leave this room, you can never leave this room!
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Father[to Mike]As I was, you are. As I am, you will be.
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[the problem about Mike staying in 1408]
Gerald OlinLook, I'm not telling you not to stay in that room for your own good or for the profit of the hotel. Frankly, selfishly, I just don't want to clean up the mess.
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Mike Enslin[talk into tape recorder]Hotels are a naturally creepy place... Just think, how many people have slept in that bed before you? How many of them were sick? How many... died?
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Room 1408You can choose to repeat this hour over and over again, or you can take advantage of our express checkout system.
[Mike looks into the other room and sees a hanging noose]
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Mike EnslinThe room's gotta be filthy. I mean, the sheets haven't been changed in... what, eleven years?
Gerald OlinNo no no. We're very professional here. 1408 gets a light turn once a month. I supervise, the maids work in pairs. We treat the room as if it's a chamber filled with poison gas. We only stay 10 minutes and I insist the door remain open. But still... A few years ago a young maid from El Salvador found herself locked in the bathroom. She was only there for a few moments, but when we pulled her out she was...
Mike EnslinJust give me the key! Listen, I stayed... at the Bixby House. I brushed my goddamn teeth right next to the tub where Sir David Smith drowned his whole family, and I stopped being afraid of vampires when I was 12. Do you know why I can stay in your spooky old room, Mr. Olin? Because I know that ghoulies and ghosties and long-legged beasties... don't exist. And even if they did, there's no God to protect us from them, now is there?
Mike EnslinI think we've reached an understanding.
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Gerald Olin[pats documents regarding 1408's victims]I will let you have this, give you access to my office, you can take notes and put it all in your book. My only condition... is that you do not stay in that room.
Mike Enslin[after the toilet paper has been turned down, and the chocolates appear]Finally! Something to for me to write about! A ghost that offers turn down service!
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Mike Enslin[yelling at the top of his voice]We didn't do enough!
Lily Enslin[crying]Oh god! What are you talking about? We did everything we could have done!
Mike Enslin[still yelling]We should have helped her fight! Not filled her head up with bullshit stories of heaven, and clouds and nirvana!
Mike Enslin[no longer yelling]I need to get some cigarettes...
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Gerald OlinWhy do you think people believe in ghosts? For fun? No. It's the prospect of something after death.
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Gerald OlinWhat do you want, Mr. Enslin? You sought this room. Oh, that's right. You don't believe in anything. You like shattering people's hopes. Why do you think people believe in ghosts? For fun? No. It's the prospect of something after death. How many spirits have you broken?
Gerald OlinWell that's not the horrific part. Afterwards, in a fit of insanity, he tried to stitch himself back together using an old sewing needle before he bled to death.
Mike Enslin[describing the room]There's a sofa, a writing desk, faux antique armoire, floral wallpaper. Carpet's unremarkable except for a stain beneath a thrift-store painting of a schooner lost at sea. The work is done in the predictably dull fashion of Currier and Ives. The second painting is of an old woman reading bedtime stories - a Whistler knockoff - to a group of deranged children while another Madonna and child watch from the background. It does have the vague air of menace. The third and final, painfully dull painting, the ever popular "The Hunt". Horses, hounds and constipated British lords. Some smartass spoke about the banality of evil. If that's true, then we've in the 7th circle of hell.
[turns off tape recorder and pauses, then turns it back on]
Mike EnslinI've lived the life of a selfish man. But I don't have to die that way. If I'm going down, I'm taking you with me. This may not all be real, and I may not even be real, but this fire, that's gotta be real
Mike EnslinI'm trying to accurately describe Orpheus on the Orpheum Circuit. Bathed in tango light, the kind of light that makes the dead get out of their graves and tango. Now, this is level nine, the deepest level of hell, furthest removed from all light and warmth. This is six. It's goddamn five. I think I see the pattern.