Ghost Behind You

1.06. A Night of Terror

Night had fallen.

Rose couldn't understand why anyone would choose to stay at this hotel. Once darkness settled, it felt completely devoid of life. Looking out the window, she could barely make out the surface of the small lake, which had turned into an inky black void. The two bridges she'd seen earlier were now swallowed by the night, and the silence was unsettling. There were no sounds of insects, no rustling leaves—nothing. The sky was thick with clouds, obscuring the moon and stars, and the entire building felt as though it were sitting in the middle of nowhere, isolated and lifeless.

Rose pulled the curtains shut, blocking out the bleak view.

Fatigue weighed heavily on her, especially after dinner. Her body ached all over, and a wave of dizziness hit her. I might be running a slight fever, she thought. The day had been long and grueling, and her body, unused to such strain, was finally giving in. This level of exhaustion often left her drained, sometimes with a mild fever. She just needed a good night's sleep.

She changed into her pajamas, slipped on her slippers, and paced the room, deciding which of the two beds looked more comfortable. Eventually, she chose the one against the wall, figuring she wouldn't roll off if she turned over in her sleep.

Her thoughts drifted back to Mary, who was likely still holed up in her room, consumed by grief. Perhaps letting it all out was what she needed. As long as she didn't get sick, Mary would recover with time. She was only 28, the same age as Rose. We'll both get through this.

Rose lay down and turned on the television. There weren't many channels, but it didn't matter. She hadn't watched TV in so long. As she flipped through the stations, the picture became progressively fuzzier, until all that remained on the screen was static. She finally settled on a news channel, half-watching as she lay down.

The broadcast was odd. It was a story about a little girl who had been abandoned at a kindergarten, left by her parents, never to see them again. The girl was delicate, with soft features, but the pain of abandonment was etched on her face. She cried for her mother, begging her to return. Rose felt an eerie sense of déjà vu, like she'd seen this before. She leaned closer, straining to hear the details, but the volume was too low. Where's the remote?

"Mommy!" the little girl's shrill cry suddenly pierced the air, so loud that Rose jolted upright. It was then she realized why the girl seemed familiar—she was looking at her own younger self on the screen!

Rose shot up, drenched in sweat. The TV was nothing but static now, flickering with a dim, ghostly light. Just a nightmare, she thought, trying to calm her racing heart. She needed to turn the TV off—leaving it on all night would be a waste of electricity.

As she reached for the remote, she froze.

A shadowy figure was sitting by her bedside.

Even in the faint light from the TV, she couldn't make out the figure's face or clothing. Fear tightened her chest. Had someone broken into her room? She distinctly remembered locking the door. She wanted to scream, but her body wouldn't respond. Her limbs were heavy, paralyzed.

The shadow didn't move. It sat completely still, as if carved from stone. From where she lay, Rose could only see the figure in profile—no details, just the silhouette. She blinked, hoping it was an illusion. But it stayed there, unmoving, solid as ever.

Her eyes strained to identify who it was. After what felt like an eternity, the figure slowly stood up. Rose could see long hair draped over the figure's shoulders. It's Mary! There was no mistaking it—the long hair, the posture, the subtle way she moved. It was her old friend.

A wave of relief washed over Rose. If it was Mary, she wasn't in danger. She tried to speak, but her throat tightened, and no sound escaped. Mary, or the figure that looked like her, walked past the bed toward the door. There was a soft click, and the shadow was gone.