Room 1307

Rain smashed against the windscreen as Rose tried her best to stay focused on the road. Inside the car, a song from the ‘80s played, one her dad would always have on repeat when she was young. Around her, the wind howled and trees bent from the raging storm outside. She sighed, switching on the wipers, but they did little to clear her view. Strangely enough, the atmosphere felt quite fitting. She was not happy, and it seemed the universe agreed.

Just ahead, a faint sign came into view, lit up by a small spotlight on the floor.

The Evergreen Hotel: We know what you need.

To be honest, she wasn’t going to get far in this weather. And she was feeling awfully tired; a night’s rest would probably do her some good. She pulled into the car park, one of about four cars total, before grabbing her luggage and heading for the doors. Her coat hood immediately blew off in the wind, and she was lashed by sheets of rain, blurring her vision. Stumbling through the door, she wiped the water from her eyes and approached the front desk. Behind her, the drumming continued as the storm only seemed to worsen.

Inside was warm, with faint classical music filling the air. The receptionist stood at the front desk. Immediately, Rose was put off by both his demeanour and attire. He was dressed in what seemed to be some sort of vintage uniform, with a wide smile that didn't reach his eyes. He made no move to greet her, and for a short second they stood in a standoff before she decided to be the first to speak.

“Uh, hi? Is there any way I could get a room for the night?” she asked, shaking her coat slightly to dry off.

“Certainly.” He tilted his head. “What brings you here this late?”

Rose ran her tongue over her teeth, giving a flat smile. “Just passing through, on my way to my dad’s funeral up north.”

“Oh, well, so sorry to hear that.” He turned around and grabbed a key hanging behind him. “Room 1307, floor thirteen.” He handed her the key before gesturing to the right. “Take the lift; it will save you the climb.”

“Huh, my lucky number,” she muttered.

“How so?” he asked.

“Hm? Oh, just the number of my childhood address. Anyways, thanks.” She waved as she grabbed her suitcase and headed to the lift.

“It’s no problem at all. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

She walked away a bit quicker than usual, feeling oddly unsettled by the man. As she approached the lift, she took in her surroundings. The place was either really old or heavily inspired by classical design. Polished black-and-white terrazzo flooring reflected the glow of amber lights, complemented by mahogany and leather furniture. She noticed a small waiting area, fitted with a cosy fireplace barricaded by a mesh screen.

The lift arrived quicker than expected, and she immediately entered, pressing the button for the thirteenth floor. Just above the doors was an arrow that pointed to each floor number as it passed them. She watched as it ticked one by one, until it reached her floor, followed by the doors sliding open.

She was met by a long corridor, with doors lining both sides. The walls were wrapped in a faded buttermilk damask wallpaper that stretched down the windowless hallway. A red carpet covered the floor, patterned like a Persian rug, and the whole place was bathed in a soft glow. She continued down, reading the numbers on every door.

1304, 1305, 1306…

Bingo, 1307. She inserted the key and listened for the click of the lock before slowly swinging the door open. Inside wasn't too different from the rest of the hotel, with a double bed against the left wall, curtains hanging directly across, and a small wooden dresser to the right. To her left was a small bathroom, fitted with a toilet, a sink, and a shower, and to her surprise it was incredibly clean. She dropped her leather suitcase to the floor, which had previously belonged to her dad, and approached the bed, flopping down. Groaning, she pulled her hands down her face as the stress of the day caught up with her. She lay there for a moment, staring at the popcorn ceiling, feeling her eyes begin to water.

Nope, no way. It was too late for this. She just needed a night’s sleep before hitting the road tomorrow. She rolled onto her side, noticing the design on the thick curtains, but something felt off. Strangely enough, she realised she couldn't hear the usual pitter-patter of rain on glass. Dramatically sitting up, she approached the curtains, tearing them open to be greeted with—

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was just a wall. Whilst she knew some rooms might not have windows, the addition of curtains and a rail really threw her for a loop. She sighed. It was late; she should just go to bed. But a room without a window left her unsettled, and now she was sure she wouldn’t sleep.

The journey back to the front desk was uneventful, and upon reaching the ground floor, she was greeted by the sound of crackling fire and whistling winds outside. Right where she'd left him stood the receptionist, with that same eerie grin plastered on his face.

“Excuse me,” she asked, approaching the desk. “I was wondering if there was any way for me to change rooms? Mine doesn’t have a window.”

“Well, I’m so sorry to hear that,” he began. “However, we are fully booked tonight, so I'm afraid that’s the room you’re stuck with.”

“What?” she questioned, looking around. “You’re fully booked, really? At this time of year?”

“Indeed we are,” he grinned before gesturing behind him. She tilted her head to look at what he was pointing to and saw the wall of room keys completely empty, nothing but rows of hooks with numbers.

“Are you kidding me? The car park is practically empty.”

“So sorry to disappoint. Is there anything else I can help you with?” He tilted his head.

She sighed, slowly shaking her head. “Nope, I guess not.” Turning, she trudged down the hall.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find your room just right!” he called out, just before the lift doors closed.

After a quick shower, Rose could admit she felt much better. Pulling on her pyjamas, she got into bed, tugging the covers tight. She had to collect the flowers tomorrow, although the funeral wasn’t till three, so she had some time to make arrangements. As she began to doze off, mind drifting away, she was startled by a loud thump from above. What on earth? She tried to ignore it, but another one hit, even louder this time.

“Dude, seriously," she groaned, rolling onto her side. The noise continued, escalating into shouts and stomps all over the place. Rose grabbed a pillow and held it over her head to dampen the sounds, but her struggle was in vain. There was absolutely no way she'd be able to sleep with all this ruckus. So, reluctantly, she got up, ready to confront the room above.

Despite the place supposedly being fully booked, she didn’t see anyone else in the halls. However, considering the time, it was to be expected. She clicked the button, tapping her foot as she waited for the lift, yet for some reason it wouldn’t come. She waited a few more minutes, but it never came. She was seriously out of luck these days. Hanging her head back, she turned to the stairwell, deciding one floor up wouldn’t kill her.

If she could hear the noise that clearly, then it was definitely the room directly above hers. When she arrived on the fourteenth floor, she noticed that the room numbers mirrored those on her floor. Standing in front of room 1407, she took a deep breath before raising her fist to knock at the door. After three sharp knocks, she waited for a few seconds but got no answer. She knocked again, harder this time, but got the same result.

“Hello?” she called. “Can you keep the noise down? Some people are trying to sleep!”

Although she still got no response, she couldn't hear any noise coming from the room. So, with a sliver of hope, she prayed they got the message, and she could finally get some sleep.

For what felt like the hundredth time that night, she returned to her room. Quickly getting under the covers, she closed her eyes and stayed as still as she could, pleading for sleep to take her quickly. 

BANG!

Above her, the noises returned, louder than ever. God, she’d had it. That front desk receptionist was about to have a very interesting night.

She stormed down, ready for a fight like no other. She was pissed. Was it too much to ask for a little bit of quiet in the middle of the night?! Just as the lift door opened, she sped forward, heading straight for the desk, but was immediately stopped. The first thing she noticed was the lack of light. Not just the fireplace, but every lamp and overhead light was off. That’s… strange. Outside, the storm still raged on, and looking out, she knew it would be impossible to get back on the road now.

A lone brass bell sat on the desk, and after a quick look around, she decided to ding it. And again. And then many times in very quick succession—hopefully he’d forgive her impatience. But the receptionist was nowhere to be seen, and now she realised the radio sitting behind the counter was off too.

“Hello?” she called out, looking around. “Look, I know it’s late, but I need some help!” She dinged the bell a few more times, her frustration bubbling over.

The air was eerily still. For a place so big, it was a wonder it could feel this empty. Rose slumped over the desk, her head in her hands, before she was met with three dull chimes. She turned, now noticing the grandfather clock in the corner. 3 a.m., seriously? At this point, she’d be on the road with no sleep!

Realising she wasn't going to be helped, she reluctantly headed back to her room. She just needed to get to bed, have a short rest, and continue tomorrow like tonight never happened. After entering the lift, she went to click on floor thirteen before noticing something.

There was no fourteenth floor. In fact, thirteen was the highest number there was. That couldn’t be right; she was on the top floor? That’s impossible. Surely the lift must just stop before then. But isn't that a liability? The last she checked, every floor had to be accessible by lift. You know what, not her circus, not her monkeys. This was none of her business.

With a short ding, she stepped out of the lift, ready to turn in for the night. Absent-mindedly, she turned to look at the stairwell… which was gone. Great, amazing! She was actually going insane. Bat-shit crazy. Because there’s just no way.

Quickly whipping back to look at the lift, her stomach dropped when she realised it was gone too. Now, there was a seemingly endless corridor, lined with doors and that same ugly yellow wallpaper.

What was happening? She ran to her room, breath coming quick and unsteady. She thought she knew these halls by now, but was proven wrong when room 1307 seemed to evade her.

1304, 1305, 1306…

But no 1307. Nope, nope, she couldn’t deal with this right now. Sprinting down the corridor, she passed room by room, but none of them was her own. Tears began to collect in her eyes as she turned, finding another identical hall, continuously confronted by a never-ending labyrinth.

She sobbed. What was happening? How was any of this possible? As she searched and searched, desperate for an escape, she grew tired. Her eyes became heavy, and her legs felt weak. Eventually, still trapped in what looked like the exact same hallway she started with, she collapsed to the ground.

Curling up into a ball, she wept. Tears streamed down her face, shoulders shaking with every heaving breath. This was it. She was trapped in some horrible nightmare, and she was never going to get out. She was going to die here, looking at that stupid yellow wallpaper.

…

What was that? In the distance, a faint sound could be heard. Drums, some guitar … her dad’s song? What?

She stood up, her legs still shaking slightly, and made her way towards the music. Coming to a corner, she turned and found something new. The hallway was still as long as ever, but the decor was different. The buttermilk wallpaper had been replaced by dusty pink paint, with coving along the ceiling. And the previously red carpet was now a pale beige, and much fluffier than before. What? What was this? It was different, yet it felt so, so familiar.

She continued down this new hall, following the music like a siren’s song. She felt as though she were trapped in a daze. Like something was pulling her. She came to a door, one that was different to the rest. Instead of the plain white from before, it was made of deep oak, with a glossy varnish and intricate details. Gold numbers were fixed at the top. 

1307.

She knew this door. She’d walked through it a hundred times. This was the door from her childhood home. Inside, she could hear the music, louder than ever. Slowly, she knocked once, but got no response.

However, this time was different. This time, she entered the room.

Inside was an exact replica of her childhood bedroom. Pink walls, a frilly white bedsheet decorated with a faint floral pattern, cream curtains that hung still, and dark oak furniture scattered around the room. And finally, hidden in the corner, her dad’s leather suitcase.

The most alarming part wasn't the room, though, no. It was the small girl, curled up on the bed. It was hard to make out her face, but she was shaking, sobbing into her knees. Without a word, Rose approached. She sat beside this girl, and for a moment, neither spoke.

Before Rose could react, the girl suddenly flung herself at her. She wrapped her arms tightly around Rose’s waist in a hug, holding on and refusing to let go. She continued to cry, and Rose let her. Slowly, she reciprocated, holding the girl close and patting her head.

“It’s okay,” she told her. “It’s okay.”