The locals referred to it only by gesture, like everyone was supposed to know it. Everyone was supposed to have an idea. Online, it appeared under three different names. Same photos, same building, but wildly different reviews.

One thing was the same: Room 29A. Described as a quiet, relaxing room with “a view to die for”. Creepy and unsettling, but it was dirt cheap. Being a struggling college student, this seemed appealing to me, despite all the red flags screaming at me.

I checked in at 7:06 pm, for two nights and three days. The receptionist was a timid old man. His hands were shaking, while his eyes never met mine, like he was trying to avoid it at all costs.

He slid the keycard across the counter. “Sixth floor, the sixth room to your left. Enjoy your stay,” he said, in a tone that was honestly unsettling. He tried to smile, but his lips curved only so much.

The elevator smelled like a new car, like it had just been renovated. A faint smell of bleach made me gag. It only seemed to get stronger as the lift got closer to the sixth floor. The door opened, and it seemed like one of those retro haunted hotels seen in horror movies where the main character suffers a painful fate. The risk I took was calculated, but it seemed I was terrible at maths.

Room 29A waited at the very end of the hallway. As I walked towards my room, I swore I could see shadows from the corner of my eyes. As unsettling as it was, nothing could prepare me for what I saw two doors before mine.

A red door, freshly painted, with no room number. Even the door handle was a shiny, gold-plated handle instead of the doorknobs on every other door. “A special room, maybe?” I thought to myself, trying my best to ignore how eerie this whole ordeal was. There was a faint humming sound coming from the room, like a prayer or a sermon, just not in any language I had heard before. Curiosity got the best of me, and I put my ear close to the door to try and listen. But as soon as I got too close, the humming stopped. Pin-drop silence was all I could hear.

I ignored this incident and walked towards my room. Room 29A, a door slightly darker than the others, like it was absorbing light instead of reflecting it. Inside, the room was normal. Too normal. Beige walls, brown carpeted floor, a neatly made bed with a note on the pillow: “Enjoy your time.” The temperature felt ice-cold, like the AC had been running in mid-December. There were no windows that could have been open, and there was no AC either, just a small heater set at maximum.

I was unsettled, kind of scared, but too tired to think it all through. I decided to sleep it off and deal with it in the morning.

Suddenly, a loud thud echoed throughout the entire room, like a knocking sound coming from inside it. I froze, heart pounding, hands shaking. I looked around, trying to figure out if it was a hallucination or a dream, until I heard it again. This time it was louder, like it was above my head.

I looked up, sweat pouring down my brow. The ceiling was plain and did not look like someone was knocking on it. I got up and washed my face, trying to calm my nerves. Then I heard a raspy voice pouring into my ears:

“Welcome home, David.”

A bony hand brushed my shoulder as the lights went off.