Scary Stories.

Okay I am just doing a scary stories.
This one my cousin told me.
There once was a very rich girl. Her father and step-mother (they have no actual role in the story) were going on a Honeymoon. So she went to stay at her uncle's very high-class and old hotel. When she arrived she went to the check in-desk. She was greeted by a 35 year-old man. "Hello," he greeted. "Who must be the owner's neice." He started ticking at a little notebook. "Ye- Yes." she stuttered. He ignored and handed the notebook to the bell man who was taking her bags. "What room would you like?" he asked. She looked at the keys in coloums for each floor. Of course she wanted a room with a good view so not ones on the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th floors. She wanted one that had a bathtub so no 6th, and 7th floors. "8 please." she said. He looked at his large book of check-ins' and outs'. "Sorry. That is all taken. Most of our cutomers can't afford a floor on 9, 10, 11, 12, and 13." She mad a annoied face, wrinkling her nose. "How many rooms on 9, 10, 11, 12, and....." she trailed off she never dared say the number 13 aloud. "13" he finished for her. "Two on each floor from nine and up." She looked at her feet disappointed. She heard rain starting to hammer down outside on the streets of New York. "9?" she asked. He looked at the book. "Taken." he answered shaking his head. "All rooms are taken except 1, and 2 on the 13th floor. It's strange, everytme someone asks for the 13th floor they change their mind at the last minute." A employee turned around and listen in on the converstion. "1" the employee started waving his hands in front of his face, and shaking his head. "2" the rich girl quickly changed her answer. The 35 year old man turned around and looked at the frantic employee. "Jimmy, would you take her to your room please?" He nodded and power walked across the marble floor. "Why not 1?" she yell-whispered. He shook his head. His lips were tightly pressed together. "Bad"

That night the Rich girl couldn't sleep. What was so "Bad" about number 1? Then strangely she started to hear amazing piano playing. She tip-toed out of her room into the long creaky corridor. She reached the door. She bent down and looked through the key hole. There was a perfect Blond, pale skinned girl in a white nightdress. She was gracefully playing the piano as her hands swept their way across the keys. "Beautiful" the rich girl whispered. The piano playing stopped. The rich girl's heart skipped a beat. But the music started playing again. The rich girl tip-toed back to bed not taking her chances. The next morning there was no sign of the pale skinned girl. She shrugged it off. The next night she went to bed. She heard the most wonderful music. She tip-toed down the hall, to peek through the key hole. The pale girl was playing the violin. After 5 minutes she went back to bed. The next morning she saw no sign of the pale girl and shrugged it off. That night she went to bed hoping for the music. It never came. Impaiently she galloped lightly down the hall. Looking through the key hole. She saw the most amazing ballet. She counted the repeated steps into her mind and went back to bed counting the steps again hoping she can remember in the morning to practise it herself. In the morning she didn't care about seeing the girl. She wanted to practise.

That night she went to bed with the dance fully memorized into her mind. She wanted something to happen. She couldn't hear a single move from the room next door, not even the slight pitter-patter of feet dancing across the floor. She tip-toed down this hall. She looked inside the keyhole. To her shock there was a bright red, bloodshot, bloody, eye. Staring right at her. She died of fright.