The Fletcher Property

The year is 1949. Zachary Fletcher walks down a dark, narrow alleyway in Chicago, Illinois, dragging a black trash bag behind him—his newest victim inside. This wasn’t his first kill. Fletcher was a serial killer, known for keeping trophies and disposing of bodies with chilling precision.

He lived in a small house on the city’s outskirts. When he was finally caught in June of 1949, he was sentenced to life in prison without parole. He didn’t last long—he was killed in a prison fight soon after.

His home was eventually demolished. Maybe because no one wanted to buy the house of a convicted serial killer, or maybe because some teenagers burned it down. I don’t remember.

Five years later, a skeptical land developer—who, like me, didn’t believe in ghosts—bought the land and built a hotel on it. It’s still standing today, in 2025.

Recently, they changed the name of the hotel to The Fletcher Hotel, to make money off of the story - which, in my opinion, is just asking for trouble. Ever since we let those YouTubers come in and do some "investigating," more and more “hauntings” have been happening, and people are leaving days before their checkout date. Out of fear of the ghosts, even employees have left. There was an ad in the window of the hotel, which I used to pass on the way to pick food orders. When I saw the ad, I thought maybe that could be a better job for me than driving around other people's food to their house. You can stay on the property, which would help me save on rent and make my life easier. I would be the only employee working the night shift and it was basic security, so all I have to do is watch the cameras, “easy peasy.” Now that I have been working for the last three months, things have been getting worse, with people saying that their items are missing from their rooms, and in place of where their items would be, there are other people's belongings that look old. People also see men in suits walking around outside, smoking cigars, but no one is there; some even say they smell chemicals in the air but not cleaning supplies. The problem is that these things keep happening way more than they ever did before, according to old staff and other people. The only thing that I have seen is the cameras going black and static-filled, otherwise I haven't seen anything, but I have smelled the weird smells in the air. I keep telling myself - I don’t believe in ghosts.

Three months into working at this hotel and I haven’t seen anything weird on the cameras, until today. I’m sitting in the cramped security room when I see this man who looks like he belongs in the nineteen-fifties smoking a cigar, in the lobby. So, I go and confront the man, to tell him he can't smoke inside the building, but when I walk out of the security room, there isn't anyone there, which I think is weird. When I go back to the security room and look at the cameras again, I see the same man sitting on the bench in the lobby smoking. I go and look - no one is there. I’m starting to get a little creeped out, so I start to film the security footage and capture where it looks like a man is sitting on the bench smoking, though he’s still not there in person.

I go out of the security room to do my hourly walk around the hotel to look for anyone misbehaving, people loitering or trespassing, when I run into a group of YouTubers recording around the hotel. They immediately ask me, “Hey man, have you seen anything weird today?”

Usually, I just ignore them, but this time… “Uhm,” I say, hesitant to respond. “Yes, I have seen something.”

“Really? Please tell us more, it would be great for the video, if you don't mind?”

I tell them I recorded the situation after it happened a few times.

“Oooh, can we please see the footage?”

“Sure, let me look for it,” I say as I grab my phone out of my back pocket. “Here,” I say as I flip my phone around to show them. I already start regretting my decision to share when they practically snatch my phone away.

They don’t say much but their faces do. “Heh, yeah man that's pretty creepy,” one of the guys says. “Hey, do you mind if we use that clip in our video?” he says.

“Sure, I guess.” I let them record it, and say, “Well, I gotta go do my job now, but if you need anything call the “front desk” (AKA me)” I say, hoping they don’t call. I then go my separate way.

They don’t take the hint. “Hey man, do you mind if we record you while you do your thing?” they ask while pointing their camera at me.

“Aren't you guys already filming me? I think that's enough for now.”

“Ok we'll see you later, then.” The two talkative people in the group respond. “Uh-huh. Please don’t.”

I walk down the hallway to the left and see out of the glass door that there is the same man that I saw earlier on the cameras, sitting outside smoking once again. He’s real? I walk towards the door and open it, and the man is still sitting there. He looks at me and says nothing. I say, “Hello sir, you can't smoke here,” but the man doesn’t respond. I repeat myself, but still nothing. I walk closer to the man and take the cigar out of his hand, and he just stares at me, with a blank look in his eyes. I say, “Hello?! Sir, I said you can't smoke here, did you not hear me?”

“No,” the man says with no expression on his face.

Umm uh. “W-who are you?” I stutter a bit from shock when the man responds.

“I am Malcolm, Gorden, Shay.” The man says, pausing between each name.

I ask no more questions. I say, “Have a smokeless rest of your day,” while holding his cigar. When I hear the door open behind me, it's those YouTubers again. I sigh. I turn to look at them.

“Were you just talking to someone?”

“Umm. Yes, why?”

“Who, there's nobody there?”

“What do you mean, he’s -” I start to say as I turn and point at where the man was sitting…but no longer is.

“Was it a ghost?” the most excitable one asks.

“No! Just some old guy!” I wave the cigar at them.

“Sure buddy, whatever you say. There ain't nobody there,” the group says as they walk by. I finish my walk around the hotel and head back to the security room. I sit down at the desk, and type on the computer the names Malcom, Gorden, and Shay, along with the name Zachary Fletcher, and hit enter. I am then met with news reports of a Malcom Gordon Shay’s murder on the Fletcher property, in the 50s when he was found in hotel room 506, shot and killed in his room. People believe he may haunt this hotel, but he supposedly stays in his room. Oh-kay well that's something, I think to myself. I really didn’t do much research on this hotel before I took this job; in hindsight, that might have been a mistake. This explains why only me, a janitor, and a bunch of teenagers work here. But still, I didn't really think this place could be so haunted that I could see the ghosts. I kinda just thought that people's stories were being exaggerated, or people's minds were playing tricks on them, but now, I’m starting to think that might not be the case.

After I finish reading the news reports, I switch tabs back to the cameras and get a notification; movement detected in the fifth-floor hallway. I check the feed—nothing. So, I rewind the footage. There he is again, the same man, cigar in hand, walking into room 506. I almost don’t believe it. I switch back to the live feed… and he’s staring. Staring straight into the camera, like he knows I’m watching. Then the screen goes grey and static-filled. I tell myself it’s just a glitch. But somehow, I know he saw me.