The Disappearance at Room 609

It was well past midnight when detective Farhan Qureshi entered The Crescent Towers, the most expensive hotel in the city. The marble floors shone under soft golden lights, and a faint scent of jasmine filled the air. Guests were rarely disturbed here — which was why the report of a missing person had stirred so much noise.

The missing guest, Adeel Shah, was not just anyone. He was the son of a powerful business tycoon, last seen checking into Room 609 just two nights ago. Surveillance footage showed him entering the elevator, alone, wearing a black overcoat. But there was no footage of him coming out.

The strange part?

Room 609 didn’t even exist.

According to the hotel’s floor plan, the 6th floor ended at Room 608. There was a wall where the door to “609” should have been.

The receptionist, visibly nervous, handed Farhan a keycard.

“Sir… we don’t have a Room 609. But when Mr. Shah checked in, he… insisted. The system… accepted it somehow. We thought it was a glitch.”

Farhan frowned. “A glitch that prints a keycard for a room you don’t have?”

The CCTV showed Adeel stepping out of the elevator, turning left, and opening a door marked 609. The hallway lights flickered, and for two seconds, the video turned to static. When the feed returned, the door was closed, and Adeel was gone.

The detective rode the elevator to the sixth floor. The air felt colder than it should. The plush carpet muffled his steps, and the quiet was almost suffocating.

There it was — between Rooms 608 and the emergency stairwell — a door, slightly ajar, with 609 in brass numbers. His heart beat faster.

Pushing the door open, he stepped inside.

The room was… wrong. The layout didn’t match any hotel blueprint he’d seen. It was much larger, stretching endlessly in dim light. The air smelled faintly of metal and damp earth.

Farhan’s voice echoed.

“Adeel Shah?”

No reply — but somewhere deep inside, he heard a slow, dragging sound.

He walked further. The walls changed — the cream wallpaper gave way to cracked concrete. The hotel furniture faded into dust-covered relics: a rusted chair, a broken desk, and a mirror so tall it nearly reached the ceiling.

Something was moving in that mirror.

It wasn’t his reflection.

The figure looked like Adeel, but its eyes were entirely black. The skin was pale, almost gray. It smiled too wide, teeth sharp and uneven. Farhan instinctively reached for his gun.

The figure tilted its head, then pointed behind him.

He spun around — and the door he came through was gone.

From the shadows, a voice whispered,

“Why did you open the door, detective?”

Adeel’s voice — but hoarse, as if speaking through water.

The dragging sound grew louder. Something was approaching from the dark, tall and thin, with limbs slightly too long. It moved without footsteps, its head brushing the ceiling. Farhan fired two shots. The sound was swallowed by the room, the creature unfazed.

The mirror shimmered. The black-eyed Adeel stepped out of it — physically, as if the glass was only water.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” he said, smiling. “Now you’ll stay here. We all do.”

Farhan backed away, but the floor beneath him softened, like wet sand. The creature loomed over him, faceless except for a wide, gaping mouth that opened in silence.

When he woke, he was lying in a bed. Sunlight streamed through the curtains. The room looked perfectly normal — except the number on the door was 609.

He rushed out, heart pounding, into the hallway. The elevator doors slid open, revealing a maid pushing a cleaning cart.

“What floor is this?” he demanded.

The maid looked confused. “Sixth floor, sir. But… there’s no Room 609 here. Never has been.”

Farhan turned back. The door was gone. Just a blank wall between Room 608 and the stairwell.

Two days later, another report reached the police — this time, of a missing detective last seen entering The Crescent Towers.

The CCTV footage showed him stepping into the elevator, alone, wearing his dark gray coat. He pressed the button for the sixth floor. When the doors opened, he walked down the hallway, turned left, and opened a door marked 609.

The hallway lights flickered. The video glitched for two seconds.

When the feed returned, the door was closed, and he was gone.

Rumor has it: Room 609 appears only to those it chooses. Sometimes it looks inviting, sometimes just… wrong enough to make you curious. And once you step inside, you don’t come back. Not the same way.

The hotel refuses to talk about it. Guests whisper about screams faintly heard from the sixth floor at night. But the staff insist it’s just “old pipes” or “the wind.”

If you ever stay at The Crescent Towers, remember — the sixth floor ends at Room 608.

If you see a door with the number 609…

Don’t open it.