This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/SSBSSHankHill on 2024-10-26 06:01:52+00:00.
I only took the job at the Solvane Hotel because I needed the money. Mostly, I’d just stand behind the counter all night, read my book, and make sure nobody was loitering.
Thing is, from the very first night, I noticed something strange about Room 219.
Nobody told me outright, but I figured it out fast enough—it’s the only room they didn’t book out. And if guests asked, management would say it was under renovation or reserved indefinitely. But I knew better. The first time I walked past, the door creaked, just slightly, and I could feel this cold, damp air leaking out from the crack beneath it, like the room was breathing.
But what really got me was the mirror.
Directly across from Room 219, the hotel had this full-length mirror mounted on the wall. The kind of thing you’d see in any hotel hallway, so guests could do a last-minute check. But this one was strange. When I walked past it, my reflection looked off—like it was slightly out of sync with my movements. The lights in the reflection looked dimmer. And I swear I saw a shadow flitting just behind me.
The second night, the mirror gave me the creeps again. I wasn’t tired, I’d just started my shift, but as I passed Room 219, I saw a flash of something in the glass. A figure, I think. Standing back, like it didn’t want me to see it too clearly. I stopped dead, staring into the glass, waiting for my reflection to settle back to normal.
It didn’t.
Instead, the lights in the mirror dimmed, as if someone was slowly turning down the power on the whole hallway. And in that dim, hazy reflection, I could make out the faint shape of… another hallway. Only this one was grimy, with peeling wallpaper and dark stains running down the walls.
I took a step back, but my reflection stayed put. It was like looking into a photograph, and the other version of me didn’t move with me. And then, in the corner of the glass, I saw him—the man I’d seen before, or thought I’d seen. He was closer this time, standing just inside the door of Room 219, in that grimy, decayed version of the hall.
He was looking right at me, hollow eyes glinting in the faint light.
I blinked, and everything snapped back to normal—the mirror was just a mirror, the hall was empty. My own face stared back, pale and confused. I kept moving after that. Finished my shift, kept my head down, and didn’t look into that mirror again.
The next few nights, things got worse.
I’d see him every time I passed 219. In the corner of my eye, in the dim light of the reflection, always watching from just inside the door. I thought I was losing my mind. But on Friday night, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to know what was inside Room 219. What I’d seen in that mirror.
The key felt heavy in my hand. I hesitated for a second, my heart pounding. I clicked open the lock and pushed the door.
Room 219 smelled like mildew, like something wet had been left to rot. The air was thick and stale, and the light flickered, dim and sallow, illuminating only the bed and a narrow patch of carpet. But there, across from the bed, was another mirror.
And in that mirror, I saw the man.
He was close this time, his face blurry and twisted. The reflection was so dim I could barely see him, but his hollow eyes locked onto mine. He reached out, his hand like a claw, and pointed straight at me.
I stumbled back, slamming into the wall, my breath coming in shallow gasps. But I couldn’t look away. And then, I felt the room grow colder, like the walls were pressing in. The man took a step closer, his eyes never leaving mine.
I don’t know how I got out. I remember running, the sound of my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. I don’t even remember locking the door behind me, but when I looked back, Room 219 was dark, and the hallway was empty.
I quit that night. Left the hotel, didn’t even bother grabbing my paycheck. But every so often, I’ll catch myself looking into a mirror, half-expecting to see that hallway reflected back at me—the peeling wallpaper, the dim lights, and a figure standing there, watching me from the shadows.