The Enigma of Room 17

The Enigma of Room 17

In the heart of the bustling city, amidst towering skyscrapers and neon lights, stood the enigmatic Hotel Ambrose. A relic from the past, its art-deco facade clashed against the modern skyline, yet its charm attracted travelers and wanderers seeking more than just a place to rest. But what truly made the hotel infamous was Room 17.

Legends whispered of strange happenings in Room 17. Guests who stayed there either left transformed or never left at all. Some claimed it was cursed; others believed it held secrets too great for the world. Yet, the mystery remained unresolved. This air of curiosity lured Olivia Carter, a freelance journalist with a taste for the peculiar, to the hotel's doors.

The Invitation

Olivia had stumbled across the story of Room 17 while researching urban legends for her blog. Her inbox was flooded with emails from readers who swore they had "heard" or "experienced" something there. Intrigued, Olivia decided to investigate. She booked Room 17 under the guise of a weary traveler, packing only her essentials: a notebook, a recorder, and an open mind.

The moment she entered the hotel, she felt an unexplainable chill. The lobby, though elegantly decorated, seemed oddly vacant. The receptionist, a man with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, greeted her with a cryptic smile.

"Room 17?" he asked, his voice smooth yet unnerving.

Olivia nodded.

"You’re braver than most," he said, sliding a brass key across the counter. "Enjoy your stay."

She felt a flicker of unease but brushed it aside. This was the kind of story that could propel her career, she told herself. Curiosity was her compass, and it had never failed her before.

First Night: The Voice

Room 17 was unremarkable at first glance. A plush queen-sized bed, a vintage desk, and an ornate mirror dominated the space. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air. Olivia unpacked her things and set up her recorder on the desk. As she surveyed the room, she noticed a single peculiar detail: the mirror. It wasn’t fixed to the wall but instead leaned slightly forward, as if watching.

Shrugging off her discomfort, she sat down to write notes about her initial impressions. The evening passed uneventfully until midnight. That’s when she heard it.

A voice. Faint and melodic, like a whisper carried on the wind.

“Olivia...”

Her heart leapt. She froze, straining her ears. The voice called her name again, this time more distinct. It seemed to emanate from the mirror. Olivia’s logical mind screamed that it was a trick—maybe someone playing a recording or the power of suggestion—but her curiosity drove her closer to the glass.

“Who’s there?” she asked, her voice steady despite her racing pulse.

The mirror remained silent. Her reflection stared back, but something was off. Her eyes in the reflection seemed... sad. Almost pleading. Shaking her head, Olivia chalked it up to fatigue and climbed into bed. Yet, sleep eluded her. The voice, though silent now, lingered in her mind.

The Stranger’s Warning

The next morning, Olivia ventured to the dining area, hoping to overhear guests’ conversations about Room 17. She was startled when an elderly woman approached her table without invitation.

“You stayed in Room 17, didn’t you?” the woman asked, her voice trembling.

Olivia’s journalistic instincts kicked in. “I did. Why?”

The woman’s eyes darted nervously. “Get out. Leave the hotel. That room… it’s not just haunted. It’s alive.”

“What do you mean?” Olivia pressed, intrigued.

The woman hesitated, then whispered, “The mirror. Don’t let it take you.”

Before Olivia could ask more, the woman hurried away, leaving behind a crumpled napkin. On it was scrawled a single phrase: "Ask about Julian Locke."

Digging Deeper

Determined to uncover the truth, Olivia spent the day researching Julian Locke. The name yielded little—a newspaper clipping from 1947 mentioned him as a missing person, last seen entering Hotel Ambrose. No body was ever found.

Returning to the hotel, Olivia confronted the receptionist.

“Who was Julian Locke?” she asked bluntly.

The man’s gray eyes narrowed. “A guest, like yourself. He stayed in Room 17."

“And what happened to him?”

The receptionist’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Curiosity has a price, Ms. Carter. Be careful not to pay it.”

Frustrated but undeterred, Olivia decided to delve deeper that night. She set up her camera to record the mirror, determined to catch any strange activity.

Second Night: The Truth Revealed

At exactly midnight, the voice returned. This time, it wasn’t calling her name. It was laughing. A low, mocking laugh that sent chills down her spine. The mirror’s surface shimmered as if liquid, and Olivia’s reflection began to distort.

“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice trembling.

The laughter ceased, replaced by a chilling response: “I am what you seek, Olivia. The truth.”

Suddenly, the reflection wasn’t hers anymore. It was a man’s face—gaunt, pale, with hollow eyes that seemed to pierce her soul. Julian Locke.

“They trapped me here,” the face whispered. “The mirror… it feeds on curiosity. On those who seek too much. I was like you once.”

Olivia felt her blood run cold. “How do I get you out?”

“You can’t,” Julian said, his voice tinged with despair. “But you can save yourself. Leave. Destroy the mirror if you can.”

Before she could respond, the mirror’s surface rippled violently, and her reflection returned, looking terrified. The room fell silent.

The Escape

Olivia didn’t wait until morning. She grabbed her belongings and ran to the lobby. To her horror, the doors wouldn’t budge.

The receptionist appeared from the shadows, his expression calm but sinister. “Leaving so soon?”

“Let me out,” Olivia demanded, her voice shaking.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way,” he replied. “You asked too many questions. Now, the hotel has claimed you.”

Desperation clawed at her. She remembered Julian’s words: destroy the mirror. Racing back to Room 17, she grabbed a chair and hurled it at the glass. The mirror shattered into a thousand pieces, each shard shimmering like liquid silver.

For a moment, everything went still. Then, the room began to dissolve around her. The walls, the furniture, even the floor, melted away, leaving her in complete darkness.

Awakening

When Olivia opened her eyes, she was lying on the pavement outside Hotel Ambrose. The building was gone, replaced by an empty lot overgrown with weeds. Her recorder lay beside her, its battery drained. Checking her watch, she realized only an hour had passed since she first entered the hotel.

Confused but alive, she stumbled to her car and drove away, vowing never to return. Yet, as she reviewed her footage later, she found one final, chilling detail: Julian Locke’s face, staring out from the shattered shards of the mirror.

And beneath it, a single whisper caught on tape:

“Curiosity always comes at a price.”