I’ve been a night shift worker at the Seabreeze Hotel for years. In all my time here, I’ve encountered strange guests and witnessed peculiar events. But nothing quite compares to the chilling tale of Room 417 and the mirror that hangs on its wall.
It all started when a new guest checked into Room 417—a reserved, middle-aged man with a suitcase and a demeanor that sent shivers down my spine. He barely spoke, his eyes avoiding contact as he accepted the key with trembling hands.
A few nights passed without incident, but strange reports emerged from guests in neighboring rooms. They complained of odd noises, whispers in the dead of night, and a sense of unease that settled in whenever they passed by Room 417.
Curiosity got the better of me one night. I approached the room and heard hushed murmurs seeping through the door, almost as if someone conversed with an unseen presence. Fear gripped me, but I brushed it off as my imagination playing tricks.
One evening, while making my rounds, I noticed Room 417’s door slightly ajar. Against my better judgment, I peeked inside. The room was empty, save for a dusty, ornate mirror hanging on the wall—a mirror that seemed to emanate an unnatural aura, its surface rippling with an eerie glow.
As I stepped closer, the mirror revealed a reflection that chilled me to the bone. Shadows danced within its depths, contorting into grotesque shapes that seemed to beckon me closer. I staggered back in terror, my heart pounding, and quickly left the room, trying to shake off the ominous feeling that lingered.
Night after night, reports flooded in from guests in adjacent rooms—whispers grew louder, eerie laughter echoed through the halls, and some claimed to see ghastly figures lurking within the mirror’s reflection. The once-bustling floor now lay deserted as guests demanded to be moved far away from Room 417.
With each passing night, the atmosphere around the room grew heavier. Dark, foreboding energy seemed to seep through the walls, enveloping the corridor in an otherworldly chill. The staff whispered tales of inexplicable events, and even the bravest among us hesitated to venture near Room 417.
One fateful night, the inexplicable occurred. A blood-curdling scream pierced the silence, echoing from Room 417. Rushing to the scene, I found the door ajar once more. The mirror inside—its surface now pulsating with an ominous red hue—seemed to reflect a writhing, shadowy figure reaching out as if trying to escape its confines.
In a panic, I shut the door, fearing what lurked beyond. The authorities were called, but when they arrived, Room 417 lay empty, the mirror shattered into shards on the floor, and a sense of malevolence lingered in the air.
To this day, the events of Room 417 remain a mystery. But the lingering whispers and the shattered mirror serve as a haunting reminder of the darkness that dwelled within the confines of the Seabreeze Hotel, leaving us to question the terrifying secrets hidden within its walls.