The Stanley Hotel

Derek walked silently down the hallway. He tried to not wake anyone, since it was so late at night. The year was 1990, eighty-one years after the Stanley Hotel opened. Like most hotels, the carpet underneath his feet was bright red with a green and yellow pattern. The color burned his eyes compared to the blank white of the walls.

His hotel room was all the way at the end, number 418. He pushed the key into the lock and turned. The door opened with a slight creak, making him wince. Inside the room, everything was cream-colored, from the blankets to the cushions on the furniture. It was a relaxing color. He placed his one suitcase right next to the bed.

After preparing himself to bed, he shut off the light and climbed into the warm blankets.

A slight creak made him open his eyes. A slither of light crawled across the sheets, oh so slowly. The door stopped right before hitting the wall. A shadow of a man was illuminated on the floor. Derek looked up and saw the man of the shadow. The world seemed to pause for a second, but then the man moved.

The man scrambled across the room and efficiently covered Derek's mouth. Derek struggled against him, but it was no use. The man was stronger than him.

Derek was pulled to the ground, the man dragging him. Something silver flashed in the streak of light. Excruciating pain hit Derek. He clutched his side, knowing he was going to die. He tried to scream for help; he found he couldn't even breathe. More slashes of pain met Derek all over his body. His blood spilled all over the once peaceful carpet.

Eventually, Derek was floating in a cloud of dizziness. His vision was blurry and there was a ringing in his ears. The pain leaked away, forgotten. Finally, Derek closed his eyes. His breathing gave out, and he died.

* * *

"Ghosts don't exist." I said for about the thousandth time.

"I'm telling you, Meghan, ghosts do exist! One was in our hotel room! He had brown hair and brown eyes and was pretty tall. Well, at least the parts of him I could make out. He looked all see-through, kind of like vapor. And-"

"And you guys danced the night away after fighting off dragons and meeting the Fairy Queen? Yeah right, Stacey." We were in the college dorm, packing. It was late at night. We had our room decorated the way we liked, meaning her half was all shades of pink while my half was black and gray.

Stacey was one of those perky girls who love pink, fashion, and, God forbid, make-up. But I loved her anyway.

Stacey crossed her arms. "This isn't funny, Meghan. I'm serious."

"And I'm serious, too, Stacey. There is no way a ghost could have been at the hotel."

"Fine. If you believe so strongly of that-"

"I do."

"Then prove it!" Stacey held her stubborn pose.

"What? No, I do not have to prove it." I rolled my brown eyes. "You should be the one proving that ghosts do exist."

"No way! I am not going back there!"

"Then I shouldn't have had to go there either." I crossed my arms. "Ha."

Stacey was an only child, so she was used to getting what she wanted, but I don't give up that easily. I always win an argument.

Stacey sucked her pearl white teeth and twirled her red hair around her finger, thinking. I tapped my foot. Finally, she said,

"I'll give you $150."

And that is how I later found myself driving toward the Stanley Hotel. I had all my camera equipment in the trunk along with my suitcase. I was studying to become a movie editor. Since it was summertime, I didn't have to worry about upcoming assignments and tests. I didn't sign up for any summer classes. I could barely stand my regular classes. My father wanted to me to get a real job, so I had to at least get a real college education.