Room 721

Always check your hotel room bookings beforehand.

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Chloe flung the door to room 721 open, eager to rest her blister-ridden legs on an available bed. It was usually not easy to get anything past her--sharp as a tack, she'd noticed that 721 wasn't on the booking list. But she was simply too jet-lagged to care. The bellhop's lacklustre posture said it all--it probably wasn't a great room, but sufficient for a night's needed shuteye.

"No record of your booking, ma'am, but there's a key waiting." He paused, and eyed her keenly. "That room isn't usually booked--but always seems to have a guest."

The lights of 721 were starved of electricity--the yellow light wasn't possible to read by. A musty, old carpet reeked of cigarette smoke--Chole covered her nose with her hand. A photo of a woman caught her eye--she had grief etched in her gaze. She stared out the hotel room's window, her thoughts flooding her dark cavern with misplaced echoes. 

Exhaustion won. The intrepid journalist was far too tired to bother about the room's habitation standards. Her head touched the pillow...and something changed.

When she woke, she wasn't in bed. But in the photo.

Her hand, unmistakable, holding the camera. The flash must have gone off. 

The camera sat on her chest when she woke, humming softly. 

And a note. Fluttering loosely. "You're next." Was scribbled in backward ink.

She couldn't remember penning the smudged detail...but it was hers. 

Chloe grabbed the room key and stuffed her overnight clothes into her bag, hands groping everywhere. Her feet rushed her to the receptionist's desk.

"Hi Miss, do you want a room?" The receptionist on duty was the same as the night before. 

Eyes wide open, she placed the room key on the desk. The receptionist flipped it over to check the tag. "Miss, did you take the wrong key? There's never been a Room 721."

Chloe grabbed her bag and turned to leave---and her eyes caught sight of a Bulletin Board with photos: "Missing guests of Room 721--for archival. Do not reassign."

Among them was one--of her. Taken years earlier, at the beach, just before the Tsunami hit.

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This story is entirely original. AI tags are coincidental.