The Last Light in Room 307
The old Hillcrest Hotel had been closed for nearly twenty years. People in the town said it was because of "renovation issues," but everyone knew the truth — no one stayed there twice.
Daniel wasn't the kind of person who believed in ghost stories. As a travel blogger searching for "abandoned places with dark history," he thought the hotel would be perfect for his next viral post.
He arrived just before sunset.
The building stood like a shadow against the orange sky. Broken windows stared down at him like empty eyes. The front door creaked open without much effort.
Inside, the air was thick with dust and something else… something damp and rotten.
Daniel switched on his flashlight.
"Welcome to Hillcrest Hotel," he whispered dramatically into his camera. "Let's see if the rumors are true."
The lobby was frozen in time. Old suitcases lay scattered. A chandelier hung crookedly from the ceiling. On the front desk, there was a guest register.
Daniel brushed off the dust and flipped it open.
The last entry was dated October 12, 2003.
Room 307.
Guest: Emily Carter.
Duration: 1 Night.
There was no checkout date.
Daniel smiled nervously. "Classic horror setup," he muttered.
He decided to check Room 307.
The elevator didn't work, so he climbed the stairs. Each step echoed too loudly in the silence. When he reached the third floor, the hallway stretched endlessly, doors lining both sides.
At the far end of the corridor, one light was on.
Room 307.
"That's impossible," Daniel whispered. There was no electricity in the building.
The door was slightly open.
He pushed it gently.
The room looked untouched. The bed was neatly made. A suitcase sat beside it. The bathroom door was closed.
Then he heard it.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
From inside the bathroom.
Daniel forced a laugh. "Probably a pipe."
He walked slowly and knocked on the bathroom door.
The dripping stopped.
Silence.
"Hello?" he called.
No answer.
With shaking hands, he opened the door.
The bathroom was empty.
But the mirror was fogged, as if someone had just taken a hot shower.
And written on the mirror were three words:
"YOU CAME BACK."
Daniel stumbled backward.
"I've never been here before," he whispered.
The lights in the hallway flickered.
Suddenly, the bathroom door slammed shut behind him.
The mirror cracked.
And in the reflection — he wasn't alone.
Behind him stood a pale woman with long wet hair covering her face.
Water dripped from her fingertips onto the tiles.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Daniel couldn't move. His body felt frozen.
Slowly, she lifted her head.
Her eyes were completely black.
"You checked in," she said softly. "You never checked out."
The room door slammed shut.
Daniel's camera fell to the floor, still recording.
The last footage ever recovered from Hillcrest Hotel showed only darkness…
…and the sound of dripping water.
The next morning, the police found the hotel exactly as it had been for twenty years.
Empty.
Except for one new entry in the guest register.
Room 307.
Guest: Daniel Harper.
Duration: 1 Night.
No checkout date.
And at the end of the third-floor hallway…
The light was still on.