My final night at the Marqueen Hotel. My coworkers are telling me the internet reviews say it’s haunted, but after indulging in morbid curiosity on my lunch break (“Why would you DO that??” one of my coworkers wants to know), I’ve failed to find any specific stories documenting actual hauntings, or a past historical event that might spur on such “spirited” activity.
At best, one of my coworkers found a review for someone who stayed in Room 304 and claimed it felt haunted. For lack of other descriptive terms, I am hesitant to put any stock in the story. All the same, it’s kind of boring here in the evenings, so I went up to the 3rd floor just to have a look.
I’ve seen no other guests since I’ve been here, I just want to say. I hear people in the hallways occasionally, either upstairs or on my level, but I haven’t seen anyone.
I’d be curious to know more about the history of this place, like the part between being an engineering school and a hotel. Time to head back to my room …
I spend a leisurely evening packing up my things, rolling my dreads, drinking tea. I take my sleeping pills, but they don’t seem to be working as they should, just making me groggy, not sleepy. That’s no good. I take more and make an attempt to go to bed, thinking I have a chance at a good 8 hours of sleep if I start now.
I can’t sleep. I get that creepy “presence” feeling again, lying on my side with my back to the doorway. I don’t want it to get the better of me, so I just cuddle up harder with my stuffed animal in my fortress of pillows. And that’s when I hear a weird *click*click*, like someone’s testing the doorknob on the room door. *Click*click*, quietly, a couple more times, shuffling like on the first night, *click*click* and *click*click* and *click* Oh SHIT!
I’m up and fumbling for the light. The doorknob sound stops. No one’s there.
I try lying down again, back to the door, light on this time. After a little while it starts up again — *click*click* — I sit up in bed, and it stops. I venture down my little hallway to check through the peephole on the door, but there’s nothing to see. The hallway is empty. Weird popping sounds come from behind the sealed door in the opposite wall that I expect houses the water heater. That’s distracting, but it’s not the same sound as the doorknob sound. I make sure the door to the walk-in closet is closed and go back to bed.
It’s fairly quiet in the room except various creaky old-building-settling sounds. I rebuild my pillow fort, climb under the covers, and turn out the light. Sure enough, it starts up again. If I lie still in the bed with my back to the doorway, *click*click* like a doorknob gently twisting back and forth, a feeling that someone is gliding through the room. AND I NEED TO TURN THE LIGHT ON.
I get up again, a little pissed this time. I have a full day of work tomorrow as well as an evening flight back to SF, so I need to be sleeping. Check outside the peephole again, and nothing. But the closet door has come open a crack. That’s too much for me.
I end up turning on both of the bedside lamps and turn the TV back on. Luckily there are nature programs playing all night long, the same ones repeating, one about sea life of the Deep, another about iguanas, and another about chimpanzees or something. I return to bed but keep the light and the TV on, keep myself facing the doorway. A sort of vigil.
More sleeping pills in my system, and I manage to nod off, but it’s a lot like my first night in the room. I wake up every 10 minutes or so, groggy and irritable and amazed at the lack of passage of time.
It’s funny how the only remedy for this kind of scenario would be for the sun to come up.