The Echoes of Room 313
Page 1
Rain hammered the roof of the dilapidated Hillside Inn as Claire stepped through the creaking doors, dragging her suitcase behind. The receptionist, an elderly man with cloudy eyes, didn't greet her — he simply slid the key across the counter. The tag read Room 313.
"Only room we got," he muttered, eyes not meeting hers.
Claire didn’t care. She was soaked, exhausted, and desperate for sleep. The place was cheap and far from the city — perfect for escaping the noise after her recent breakup. But as she trudged up the winding staircase, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the place didn’t want her there.
Page 2
The hallway leading to Room 313 was dim, the overhead bulbs flickering like they were struggling to stay awake. The door to her room stood at the very end of the hall, oddly pristine compared to the others.
Inside, the room smelled faintly of mildew and something metallic. The wallpaper peeled at the edges, and a dusty mirror faced the bed. Claire noticed a strange hum, low and rhythmic, like breathing. She assumed it was the pipes.
She dropped her suitcase, locked the door, and collapsed onto the bed. As she drifted off, she thought she heard a faint whisper:
"Help me."
She jolted upright. Silence.
Page 3
At midnight, Claire awoke to the sound of shuffling — inside her room. Her heart thudded. She turned on the bedside lamp. Nothing. Her suitcase was closed, the mirror untouched. But the window was slightly open.
She got up to close it, but paused — the reflection in the mirror wasn’t matching her movements. It stood still as she reached for the window latch.
Then, it smiled.
Claire screamed and fell backward. When she looked again, the mirror was normal. Her reflection stared back, pale and frightened.
She tried to leave, but the door wouldn’t open. The lock twisted and jammed, as if something on the other side was holding it shut.
Page 4
Her phone had no signal. She banged on the door, shouted for help, but no one came.
Then she saw it.
A figure in the mirror. Tall, gaunt, its eyes hollow. It stood behind her — but when she turned, nothing was there.
It moved only in reflections.
Claire ripped the mirror off the wall, smashing it to the floor. The room shook. A loud, distorted voice echoed:
"You broke the window."
"Now I can come through."
A gust of freezing air whooshed through the room as the shards of the mirror vibrated and floated upward. The pieces began to reassemble — not as a reflection, but as a portal.
And the thing stepped out.
Page 5
Claire backed into the corner as the creature emerged — all bone and shadow, stitched with screams. Its mouth hung open like a bottomless pit, and from it came the whispers of others who had stayed in Room 313.
She tried to scream, but no sound came. Her body refused to move.
The last thing she saw before darkness took her was its hand reaching into her chest — not tearing, not breaking — just sinking in, and pulling her soul from her skin.
The next morning, a maid opened Room 313 and found the room spotless.
No luggage. No signs of a guest.
But in the mirror, behind her own reflection, Claire stood. Silently screaming.
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