The Haunted Hotel

Chapter 1

“Claire, I need your help.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Sean. He didn’t come home last night.”

“He’s twenty-one now, you’ve got to expect that.”

“I think he’s in trouble.”

“Why?”

“It’s that crazy story Lydia told at his birthday party.” 

“The one where guests check-in to the hotel

but never check out?”

“Yeah. Sean and some of his buddies 

challenged her but she wouldn’t back down. 

So they went out to Noglaes to prove it was a hoax 

They left  a week ago. They were supposed to be 

back yesterday.”

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”

“Maybe, but last night I had a horrible dream. 

I could see Sean in an abandoned building 

running from room to room. He was screaming 

for help and couldn’t find his way out.  I’ve called 

the hotel, his cell phone and his friends but 

I can’t reach anyone.”

“What do you need?”

“I need you to find him.”

Within an hour Claire Nelson was on her way to the 

Mexican border town looking for the only child of her 

older sister. She hated the fact she couldn’t say 

no to Debra, even though she hated driving through 

the desert in her little Toyota Corolla. She had 

plenty of water and air conditioning but still felt like 

all the fluids were being sucked from her body.  

After exiting the freeway she took a long drink 

of water and waited at the stoplight. She had 

to stand up to her sister soon or she 

would continue to find herself in obscure towns 

chasing bad dreams and irrational fears. 

When Clayton was killed in that awful car wreck 

Debra’s saw her as her go-to-person. Instead of 

helping Debra become independent Claire 

responded to every new crisis with the same 

urgency as the first one.

She looked at her map and then pulled on to the 

main highway. As much as Claire resented the 

intrusion she knew her job as an investigative 

reporter gave her the skills and time to respond 

to her sister’s misfortunes.  Maybe when this 

adventure was done she would at least have a 

marketable article but right now the calamity 

seemed insignificant and her response premature.

“The Phantasmic Hotel of Nogales, Arizona,” 

Claire laughed at the name of the two-story building 

she saw it from the roadway. She thought the 

owners must have left the hotel in such disrepair 

to titillate the guests who were searching for ghosts. 

She had to admit the broken shingles on the roof 

and the precariously hanging shutters added 

an eerie charm. 

She pulled into the parking lot and reached for her 

camera. She got out to take pictures of the exterior 

especially the cobwebs draped from the arches 

of the front porch and the dead crow lying sprawled 

out on the walkway. They certainly made spooky 

warnings to anyone daring to enter this ghostly inn.

She noticed a young man watching her from a 

bedroom window. She waved to him, thinking it 

might be Sean but he disappeared from view. 

She continued to take pictures then climbed the 

path and pulled opened the large wooden

door. Peering into the dark interior she called 

out, “Hello, is anyone there?”

Claire hesitated in the entryway and waited until 

her eyes adjusted to the cool darkness. Her chest 

constricted with the musty smell of bad plumbing 

and rotting wood. She looked toward one of the 

sources of light in the room and saw a large stained 

glass window in the center of the far wall. From its 

filtered light she could see an angel in green robes 

captured in the leaded glass. He seemed to scrutinize 

her with his eyes. He held a flaming red sword in his 

right hand and the scales of justice in his left. Claire 

felt the guilt of her sins being weighed in the balance 

and she broke away from the intense look of his 

illuminated eyes and called out once more, “Hello. 

Can anyone help me out here?”

Again, there was no response. She walked into the 

lobby where the guest rooms were arranged evenly 

along one side of the building with conference rooms, 

kitchen, dinning area and a small gift shop on the 

opposing side. The central area where she stood 

was spacious with high cathedral ceilings. 

She heard the swish, swish, swish of a straw broom 

on the walkway outside the large patio door. Claire 

saw an old woman, dressed in black, sweeping the 

cobblestones. Her long white hair cascaded over 

her bony shoulders. The woman stooped down to gather 

shards of broken pottery and placed them carefully 

into a worn wicker basket.

Claire took a step outside to speak to the woman 

but was distracted when she heard someone 

behind the counter. Turning around she expected 

to see the desk clerk but no one was there. 

Instead a leather-bound registry lay open on top of 

the desk. Confused Claire looked back for the old 

woman but now she was gone.

“Someone’s playing tricks in here,” she said 

glancing around the room. “If you’re trying to scare 

me it’s working.”

No one answered.

She moved to the desk and examined the registry. 
There on November 13th, was his name, Sean Taylor - 

room #13. Also listed in the same room were the names 

of his three friends, Chris Ruiz, Chuck Steiner, and 

Michael Lee. “You guys were here eight days ago,” 

she said drumming her fingers on the counter top. 

“Where are you now? “