The Final Room

As Emily made her way up the winding road to Black Hollow Inn, the rain poured down like a curse on the windshield. The last gas station she passed looked like it belonged in a museum of forgotten places, and the GPS had stopped working twenty minutes ago. She was cold, tired, and a little anxious. However, the prospect of spending a peaceful weekend in the mountains was too appealing to resist. On the travel blog she followed, Black Hollow Inn was described as a "hidden gem." The post said it was "cozy, historic, and full of charm." But the inn looked more like a haunted dollhouse than a mountain retreat as she drove up the gravel driveway. The wooden siding had its paint peel off, and the windows were looking at her like dark eyes.

She considered leaving, but the storm was getting worse and she had no signal, so she decided to just turn around and go back to wherever she was. She grabbed her bag and hurried inside with a resigned sigh. It was surprising warm inside. The aroma of cinnamon wafted through the air as a fire blazed in a stone hearth. Behind the counter stood an elderly woman with steel-gray hair tied in a tight bun and eyes that didn’t quite smile when her mouth did.

She said, "Welcome to Black Hollow Inn." "You have to be Emily." Emily looked up. “Yeah. How were you—? Only one reservation is available for tonight. You'll find me in Room 6. An aged brass skeleton key was attached to an aged leather tag for the key. Emily took a look around. "Am I really the only guest?," you ask.

Thinly, the woman smiled. "You'll get the quiet and peace you came for." The hallway went on for much longer than it needed to as Emily ascended the creaky staircase. Despite the thick rug underfoot, her steps echoed. Each closed door seemed to whisper secrets, and the wallpaper was yellowed and faded, curling in the corners. Room 6 was the last one. When she unlocked it, the door groaned. The room had a canopy bed, an antique dresser, and a large window that looked out over the woods. It was simple and surprisingly clean inside. She fell onto the bed, kicked her shoes off, and dropped her bag. But getting some rest wasn't easy. She was awoken that night by the sound of gentle pacing footsteps just outside her door. Her heart was pounding as she lay still. The steps went back and forth, stopping for a considerable amount of time before beginning again. She sneaked up on the door and looked in the keyhole. Nothing.

She listened intently to the door. Nothing.

She remained in bed and gazed up at the ceiling until morning. —

Emily inquired of the proprietor of the inn during breakfast, "Are you sure I'm the only one here?" While pouring coffee, the woman paused. "Very sure." "Last night, I thought I heard someone walking," "Dear, old buildings make old noises. Sometimes it's simply the past taking over. It was not a satisfactory response. Later, Emily wandered the halls, curious. From the outside, the inn appeared smaller than it actually was. She got through Room 4. Room 5. Room 7 then

She turned around. No Room 6 At the end of the hallway was her room. But it shouldn't be there because of the numbering. She quickly returned and opened her door. Same furnishings. identical window However, her skin itched. Something seemed...off. She did a second check of the tag on her key. Room 6.

The sense of unease persisted in her. The pacing returned that night. However, it was not outside the room this time. Inside was it. The bed was circled by footsteps. Slow and thoughtful. She sat up, her throat tight with air. She could sense that there was no one there. An appearance. Heavy and cold. Then, in a low voice, "Get out."

The mirror was the source of the voice. Emily ran away. She did not pick up her bag. She didn't turn around. With a racing heart, she dashed down the stairs. Even the fire no longer lit up, and the hotel was silent. She made it to the front desk. Empty.

The bell was struck by her. “Hello? Please—someone—”

The door creaked open behind her. She shifted. It was the hotel manager. "You didn't see her, did you?" Emily gave a trembling nod. "What's happening? Who is she? Eyes suddenly tired, the woman sighed. Anna was her name. She last stayed here many years ago. Room 6. One night, during a storm, she stayed. exactly like you. However, she never left.

Emily stepped back. "Why didn't you warn me?" She doesn't always come across that way. But once she does,..." "Why not leave the room open?" The woman said in a whisper, "I don't." "Room 6 is not there." Slowly, Emily turned to look behind her. The corridor was empty. There is no ramp. No door. merely wallpaper. Gasping, she stumbled back. "No, I was only there!" The proprietor of the inn apologized. "You weren't supposed to stay in that room," he explained.

Three days later, Emily was found soaked and shaking on the side of the road, murmuring the same thing over and over: "Room 6 is not there." They went through the hotel. There's no sign of Room 6. Room 5 marked the end of the hallway. At the conclusion, there was no door. No key. There is no proof that Emily ever checked in. However, the fireplace continued to burn. A brass skeleton key with the label: was located on the mantle, among the time and dust. Room 6.