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The Haunted Hotel
I enter the looming hallway of the old hotel.
They say it’s haunted.
The aged wooden floorboards creak beneath my feet.
A shiver runs through me as I stare up at the pictures on the wall.
Were her eyes looking in that direction before?
The walls are covered in framed, old, newspapers.
Inky reports of death and destruction.
They had framed it.
I travel to the basement.
It’s dark and deserted,
the perfect place to explore.
The stage in the corner of the room is dusty,
the paint is peeling off the walls, the air damp.
The hallway consists of locked doors.
I've tried all except for the one at the end of the hall.
I shuffle up to the door,
hesitantly turning the knob.
It swings open.
I step inside.
The room is covered in peeling flower patterned wallpaper that's fading
with a white clothed table against the wall.
It has an eerie feel to it,
but despite my hesitance I decide to look around anyways.
I don’t like this room,
something doesn’t feel right.
I slowly reach out a hand to touch the faded flowers on the wall.
My hand is seconds away from brushing the crinkled material
when I hear my name called.
“It’s time to go!”
Letting out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding in,
I exit the room, closing the door behind me.
I feel a rush of relief, like a weight has just lifted off of me.
Weird.
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I want this story to leave people wondering whether what I felt was real or not and leave them thinking about their own experiences.