Room 303

On the outskirts of the city stood a crumbling old building known as Shanti Sadan — a name that meant House of Peace. But the residents nearby often joked that peace had never dared to enter Room 303.

That room had been sealed for over five years. Every person who had tried to live there either lost their mind or disappeared without a trace.

Then came Kabir, a young and bold journalist, curious to uncover the truth behind the rumors. He was working on a series about haunted places and wasn’t convinced by ghost stories or local legends. To prove it all a myth, he decided to spend a night inside Room 303, recording the entire experience.

He brought his camera, set everything up, and confidently declared:

“Fear is just a trick of the mind. I’ll show the world that there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

At 11 PM, Kabir stepped into the room. From the outside, it looked worn-down and lifeless. But strangely, the inside was immaculate. The bed was made, the floor spotless, and a small oil lamp flickered quietly on a wooden table — almost as if someone had just left.

He switched on the camera and began recording:

“My name is Kabir. Tonight, I’m inside the infamous Room 303. Let’s find out what’s really here.”

Midnight passed uneventfully. But then he heard a sound —

tap… tap… tap — like fingers tapping rhythmically on the wooden table.

He quickly turned the camera toward the sound.

No one. Just silence.

Moments later, a soft voice drifted through the air —

“Leave now…”

Startled, Kabir shouted, “Who said that?!”

No reply came. Only an eerie stillness.

Then again, louder — closer:

“This is my room…”

Suddenly, the camera shook violently. In that instant, a pale woman’s face flashed across the lens — eyes empty and black, her expression blank.

Panicking, Kabir ran for the door — but it was locked tight.

He tried to use his phone, but the screen was dead. The device heated up rapidly, burning his hand, and fell to the floor.

The lamp extinguished without warning. Darkness swallowed the room whole.

From the corner, a rocking chair began to move, though no one sat in it.

Then — a piercing scream tore through the silence.

The camera dropped.

At 3:00 AM, the recording ended.

The next day, the building’s caretaker noticed the door to Room 303 hanging open. Cautiously, he stepped inside.

The room was empty.

Except for one thing — Kabir’s camera, still switched on, resting on the table.

He pressed play.

The final clip showed Kabir’s face, ghostly pale, his eyes bloodshot and wide with fear. He leaned close to the camera and whispered:

“She’s not a story… she’s real… and now I’m hers.”

Kabir was never found. No evidence, no explanation.

Since that night, Room 303 has remained locked, untouched.

But locals say that if you walk past the door in the stillness of night — especially near 3 AM — you might hear her whisper:

“Just one more night… stay with me…”