I’ve always been fascinated by the unknown, drawn to the mysteries that lurk in the shadows. So when I stumbled upon the abandoned hotel on the outskirts of town, I knew I had to explore. The air was thick with the scent of decay as I stepped through the shattered doorway, my heart pounding with excitement and apprehension.
The hotel was a relic of a forgotten era, its once-grand facade now crumbling and covered in graffiti. But there was something about it that called to me, a whisper of secrets waiting to be uncovered. I made my way through the darkened corridors, my footsteps echoing off the walls like a haunting refrain.
Room 13 stood at the end of the hallway, its door slightly ajar as if beckoning me inside. I hesitated for a moment, a shiver running down my spine, but then curiosity got the better of me. I pushed open the door and stepped inside, the stale air heavy with the weight of forgotten memories.
The room was small and musty, the furniture covered in dust and cobwebs. But what caught my eye was the mirror hanging on the far wall, its surface reflecting the dim light in eerie patterns. I approached cautiously, my heart pounding in my chest, and studied my reflection.
But as I gazed into the mirror, something shifted. My reflection wavered and blurred, and for a moment, I saw another figure standing behind me. It was pale and gaunt, its eyes empty sockets that seemed to bore into my soul. I stumbled back in horror, my breath catching in my throat.
But when I looked again, there was nothing there. Just my own terrified reflection staring back at me. I tried to shake off the feeling of unease that had settled over me, but it clung to me like a shadow as I made my way back to the door.
As I reached out to leave, I heard a voice behind me. It was soft and melodic, but filled with a sense of sadness that sent a chill down my spine. “Don’t go,” it whispered, and I felt a cold hand close around my wrist.
I turned, but there was no one there. Just the empty room and the mirror, its surface now clear and unmarred. But I knew then that I wasn’t alone. Something had followed me out of Room 13, and it was waiting for me to look back.
I fled from the hotel, the echoes of that haunting voice ringing in my ears. But no matter how far I ran, I couldn’t escape the feeling of being watched. And as I lay in bed that night, I couldn’t shake the sense that something was lurking just beyond the edge of my vision, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
The darkness seemed to press in around me, suffocating and oppressive. And as I drifted off to sleep, I couldn’t help but wonder what other secrets lay hidden in the depths of that abandoned hotel, waiting for someone brave enough to uncover them.