The Shadow in Room 313



It was already past midnight when Sarah’s car broke down on the lonely stretch of highway. Her phone had lost signal hours ago, and rain lashed against the windshield like a warning. She spotted the faint glow of a sign through the storm—“The Hollow Inn — Vacancy.”

Relieved, she parked by the creaking wooden porch and hurried inside.

The inn’s lobby smelled faintly of mildew and old smoke. A frail-looking woman appeared from behind the counter, her silver hair hanging loose and her eyes glassy but sharp.

“Room 313,” the woman said before Sarah could even speak. “You’ll find it ready.”

Sarah frowned. “I didn’t say I needed a room yet.”

The old woman smiled, revealing yellowed teeth. “You will.”

Something in the woman’s tone sent a chill through her. But exhaustion won over unease. Sarah paid in cash, took the rusty key, and climbed the narrow staircase toward the third floor. Each step groaned as if protesting her presence.

The Room That Waited

Room 313 was at the end of a dim corridor. The number on the door was half peeled away, and the brass handle was cold to the touch.

Inside, the room looked old but tidy. A single bed, an oil lamp, and faded wallpaper with strange floral patterns. Lightning flashed outside, briefly illuminating a dark corner that seemed deeper than it should’ve been.

Sarah shook her head. “Just tired,” she murmured, setting her bag down.

She changed into dry clothes and sat on the bed, listening to the rain pound against the window. Then she heard it—a soft tapping.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She turned toward the sound. It came from the wardrobe.

At first, she thought it might be the wind or an old pipe. But then it came again—three deliberate knocks, slow and patient.

Her breath hitched. “Hello?” she whispered. No answer.

She walked toward the wardrobe and, with trembling hands, pulled the door open.

Nothing.

Just a musty coat and a cracked mirror leaning against the wall inside.

Sarah exhaled shakily and shut it again, forcing herself to laugh. “You’re imagining things.”

But when she turned away, she caught something in the mirror’s reflection—a shadow standing right behind her.

She spun around. No one was there.

Voices in the Dark

Sarah couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she heard faint whispers, like someone murmuring through the walls. At one point, she thought she heard her name—drawn out and distant.

“Sarah…”

Her body froze. “Who’s there?” she called out.

Only silence replied. Then a low hum started, deep and vibrating through the floorboards. The oil lamp flickered violently, and for a moment, she saw movement—shapes twisting across the wallpaper, like faces pressed from the inside trying to break free.

Panicked, she ran to the door and yanked at the handle. It wouldn’t budge. She pulled harder. Still locked. She was trapped.

“Help!” she screamed. “Somebody help me!”

The light went out.

For a few seconds, there was nothing but her breathing. Then, right beside her ear, a whisper:

“It’s my room.”

Sarah stumbled back, her heart hammering. In the darkness, she could see glowing outlines—figures rising from the corners, shadowy and eyeless. The air grew thick, heavy, suffocating.

The Old Innkeeper’s Secret

When morning came, the innkeeper found the door to Room 313 wide open.

The bed was untouched. Sarah’s suitcase sat by the wall, but she was gone.

Only a small handprint was left on the mirror’s glass—burned into it like ash.

Later that day, a young couple arrived, soaked from the rain. They asked for a room.

The old woman smiled her same tired smile. “You’re in luck,” she said. “Room 313 is available again.”

As she handed over the key, her cloudy eyes drifted toward the staircase, where faint footsteps echoed even though no one was there.



Epilogue: The Truth of Room 313

Locals say The Hollow Inn was abandoned decades ago after a fire killed several guests—most of them trapped on the third floor.

But travelers still swear they’ve seen the inn open, with a pale woman at the desk offering one last room on stormy nights.

No one who checks into Room 313 is ever seen again.

They say the shadows in the mirror are getting crowded.