The Motel of Lost Souls

I’ll tell you what happened. You might hear different versions from other people, but they weren't there. They don’t know what really went down, only I do.

It was a rainy night. Sheets of water poured from the sky like the universe was trying to drown us. I pulled into the Starlight Motel because it was the only place open for miles. My car was sputtering, the gas light blinking like a warning from some higher power. I needed a place to stay, just for the night, just until the storm passed.

The guy at the front desk didn’t look up when I came in, his greasy hair hanging over his eyes like he didn’t care who walked through the door. “Room for one?” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” I said, handing over the cash.

“You sure you want to stay here?” His voice was low, almost like he was warning me.

I shrugged. “Why not?”

He didn’t answer, just handed me the key and pointed down the hall. “Room 6.”

I should’ve known then. Something was off, but I was tired, soaked through, and just wanted to sleep. The hallway was dim, the lights flickering like they hadn’t been replaced in years. The wallpaper was peeling, and the whole place smelled damp, like the rain had seeped inside.

Room 6 was at the end. I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and… well, that’s where things got weird.

There was a woman sitting on the bed. I didn’t know her. Never seen her in my life. But she was there, like she’d been waiting for me. She didn’t look surprised, didn’t scream or ask what I was doing in her room. No, she just stared at me with these wide eyes, like she expected me to explain myself.

“Uh, I think there’s been a mistake,” I said, glancing back at the door. “This is supposed to be my room.”

The woman didn’t move. Didn’t blink. I thought for a second that maybe she was a ghost or something. You hear stories about haunted motels all the time, and this place had the look of one of those places where bad things happen. But she wasn’t a ghost. I could hear her breathing, see her chest rising and falling. She was very real.

I stepped back toward the door, thinking I should go back to the front desk, but then she spoke. Her voice was soft, almost like she was whispering to herself. “You don’t remember, do you?”

I stopped cold. “Remember what?”

She finally looked at me, her eyes locking onto mine. “What you did.”

I swear to you, I had no idea what she was talking about. I didn’t do anything. I told her that, but she just smiled. “You always say that.”

“What are you talking about?” I was starting to feel uneasy, the kind of sick feeling you get when you’ve walked into something you shouldn’t have.

She stood up, moving slowly, like she didn’t want to scare me. But I was scared. There was something in the way she moved, like she knew something I didn’t. Something terrible. “We’ve been here before,” she said. “This exact room. You’ve been here before.”

“I haven’t,” I insisted. I was just passing through. I didn’t know this woman, didn’t know this motel. I’d never been here in my life.

But she kept smiling that awful smile, like she knew the truth and was just waiting for me to catch up. “They’ll come for you soon,” she said. “They always do.”

I didn’t wait to hear more. I grabbed my keys, bolted out the door, and ran back to the front desk. The guy with the greasy hair was still there, watching me like he knew what was happening.

“There’s a woman in my room,” I said, slamming the key down on the counter.

He didn’t even blink. “Room 6?”

“Yeah.”

He sighed, rubbing his temple like he’d heard it all before. “There’s no one in Room 6.”

“What are you talking about? She’s sitting right there!”

He looked at me, finally meeting my eyes for the first time. “Room 6’s been empty for years. No one stays there.”

I didn’t know what to say. I felt like the floor had dropped out from under me. But I know what I saw. I’m not crazy. There was a woman in that room, and she knew me. I could feel it.

I left the motel that night. Didn’t sleep a wink, just drove until the rain let up. But something’s been bothering me ever since.

Every time I think about that woman, about her smile, her words, I get this strange feeling. Like maybe she was right. Maybe I’ve been there before, to that room, that motel. Maybe I’ve forgotten something. Something I don’t want to remember.

But that’s impossible, right? I would know if I’d done something. I’m not like that.

I didn’t do anything.

Did I?