Creepypasta Stories

The Eighth Floor

I was staying at a hotel in Chicago Illinois during a business trip and I was going to stay for the whole weekend. It was an older hotel, one that still used small keys rather than keycards to enter the rooms. I didn't mind, it seemed nice to get away from the onslaught of technology.

When I checked into the hotel it was packed full. A nasty storm had struck, standing many tourists and cancelling flights. No more rooms were available and many people were being turned away because of the lack of vacancy. When I approached the front desk to check in I noticed that all the keys for the rooms on the eighth floor were still on the wall. Not a single key was missing. It seemed odd that an entire floor would be vacant when so many people were all clambering to check in and get to their rooms.

I could see the clerk was stressed out and he was ready to to just give up and go home, so I tried to lighten the mood. "Kind of weird, isn't it?"

"What is?" The clerk asked.

"How everyone on the eighth floor is missing."

The clerk gave me an odd look and his face paled. "What do you know about the eighth floor?" He replied in a serious tone.

"What? Nothing!" I answered honestly, a little embarrassed that my attempt to lighten the mood backfired. "I just noticed that all the keys for the eighth floor are still behind the desk."

The clerk blushed a little and tried to laugh it off. "Oh, yes, I see now..." He went back to checking me in and handed me the key to my room on the ninth floor. "Enjoy your stay."

"I will... thanks." I awkwardly accepted the key and grabbed my beg, heading for the elevator.

Just like the lobby the elevator was also packed, it was difficult to stand next to so many strangers so close by, let alone enter and exit the small car. I struggled to reach and press the button for the ninth floor, but I managed to see over the crowd of people and reach the button panel. It was then I noticed that the buttons seemed to be missing a floor number: 8.

"That's funny." I thought out loud. "I wonder why there's no button for the eighth floor."

But no one in the elevator reacted. They either didn't care or they were too preoccupied and didn't hear me.

Once I finally got to my floor and checked into my room, I took a moment to relax and unwind on the bed. I had to give a presentation tomorrow and I needed to be alert. I decided to go to bed early that night and to practice my speech a few times to make sure I sounded confident.

I took a shower, brushed me teeth and stood in front of the bathroom mirror as I practiced my sales pitch a few times.

A strange groaning sound from the room beneath me got my attention. It sounded like there was a man in pain or upset. I ignored it and continued to practice my speech. The groaning from the lower floor continued on, getting louder and louder by the minute.

Angrily I stomped on the floor as hard as I could and shouted out: "Hey buddy! Are you okay?"

There was no response, the groaning stopped.

Satisfied that the man realized he was making too much noise, I continued to practice my speech. Just as I finished the first half of my speech the groaning began again. But this time it was much louder and angry.

If this was going to go on all night there was no way I'd be prepared for my presentation tomorrow. I knocked on my neighbors door and was greeted with a grumpy response from a young woman and her new husband.

"Excuse me," I politely tried to engage in conversation. "do you hear that noise in the room below us?"

"Noooo..." The woman sounded more confused than grouchy now. "We haven't heard anything until you pounded on our door."