https://playdeathroom.com/en/stories/ Subscribe to fictional hotel ghost stories from DEATH ROOM. en https://playdeathroom.com/en/stories/empty-floor/ https://playdeathroom.com/en/stories/empty-floor/ The elevator buttons stopped at twelve. At three in the morning, a red 13 appeared on the blank metal plate below them. Until then, I had thought the clerk’s warning was a joke: ‘Do not leave your room before morning.’ The doors opened onto a corridor with thirteen rooms. A pair of shoes stood outside each door. Every pair was identical to the shoes I was wearing. Outside the last room, there was only one shoe. I pressed the close button. Nothing happened. An announcement came from the ceiling: ‘Please remove your other shoe, guest.’ I looked down. My right shoe was gone. I ran down the stairs in my socks. Twelve floors later, I opened the fire door. There were now two shoes outside the last room. My own voice came from inside: ‘You’re late.’ https://playdeathroom.com/en/stories/wake-up-call/ https://playdeathroom.com/en/stories/wake-up-call/ At eleven that night, I asked the front desk for a wake-up call. The clerk did not ask what time. Instead, he quietly checked: ‘You do want us to wake you?’ Too tired to think, I said yes. The phone rang at 4:13 a.m. The receiver was silent for a long time. Then footsteps sounded in the distance and the clerk whispered, ‘Who is lying in your bed right now?’ I was about to say that I was, when I looked at the bed. A figure lay beneath the blanket. Long hair spilled over the pillow I had touched only moments before. ‘You’ve seen them. Then don’t wake them.’ The line went dead. A hand emerged from the blanket and patted the empty space. It bore a scar in the same place as mine. https://playdeathroom.com/en/stories/late-guest/ https://playdeathroom.com/en/stories/late-guest/ As I filled in the check-in card, the clerk looked behind me and said, ‘Two guests, then.’ I told him I was alone. He smiled and handed me another key card. The room held two bottles of water and two pairs of slippers. I assumed it was a booking error. After my shower, one bottle was empty. Wet footprints stood beside my slippers. I called the front desk. ‘I think someone else is here.’ The clerk fell silent, then asked softly, ‘Which bed are you using?’ There was only one bed. When I told him, he spoke to someone beyond the phone: ‘This one noticed early too.’ From the locked bathroom came my own voice, repeating the words from check-in: ‘Two guests, then.’