Haunting of the Holmes' Hotel

“Did you hear that?” Barbara Jones looked to her coworker, Mary, for confirmation of the noise she had heard. “It was a scream, wasn’t it? Didn’t you hear it?” 

“No, Barb,” Mary shook her head. “Then again, I can’t hear a thing over all these customers,” she said dull and sarcastic, looking around the barren shop. Barbara Jones had recently begun working at a post office on 63rd Street in Chicago, Illinois. Every now and then, she got a strange feeling about the place. Barb was always on edge, and since starting her job at the post office, she had been hearing screams, voices, and odd sounds that no one else heard. People thought she was absolutely insane. She was a hard worker to make money for her daughter, so her boss couldn’t bring himself to fire her. Her husband and son died in a fire ten years prior, so she was the only one providing for her teen daughter, Darcy. 

“Are you sure you didn’t hear it?” Barb asked again. 

“I heard nothing.”

“But it sounded like it came from the back storage room. You think Mr. Mark is ok?” Barb turned to face the door leading to the back room. 

“If you really think you heard something, why don’t you go check it out? The boss always loves to see you,” Mary rolled her eyes. 

Barb slowly walked to the door. When she reached for the knob, she got that odd feeling of being lost, or trapped. She closed her eyes and breathed in. Oddly, the room smelled dusty, dustier than it should have for only being built six years earlier in 1938. She opened her eyes and exhaled. Barb opened the door and walked down the short hallway to her boss’s office. She knocked twice and waited for an answer. Footsteps quickly emerged from the other side of the door. After only five seconds, the door opened. 

“Hello, sir. Did you happen to hear a scream recently-” Barb was cut off when Mr. Mark grabbed her gently by the arm and pulled her into his office. 

“No, I did not, but I’m glad you’re here,” her boss didn’t let go of her arm, only dragged his hand down to her’s. “I’ve really been meaning to ask you something,” he said as he looked at his feet. 

“Yes, sir?” Barb asked, expecting the worst. 

“If you’re not busy tonight,” Mark started slowly, but his next words were distorted and distant, in a different voice and tone, “do you want a stay at my hotel?” He smiled at Barb like a psychopath.

“What was that, sir?” Barb asked, afraid and unsure if she was finally losing her mind. 

“I said, do you want to go to dinner with me?” Mark’s voice and smile returned to his known friendly self. 

“Oh, no, I really don’t know if I can… my daughter, you see, she’s all alone…” Barb trailed off as the man looked her in the eyes. His irises danced with flecks of gold, his shining blue eyes were captivating. He ran one hand through his hair while the other stayed put on Barb’s hand. He looked down in defeat. “Ok, yes, I’d love to,” Barb finally said. 

Mark’s eyes lit up. “Wonderful!” He explained. “We can go straight from here to that restaurant down the street.”

“That sounds great,” Barb said with a nod. “I’ll see you soon,” she said before taking her hand back and walking to the door. She opened it slightly, then turned back to Mark to smile once more before walking into the hallway. When she shut the door behind her and the light from the office was gone, she realized the hallway was dark and unfurnished. Barb hadn’t noticed before, being blinded by the thought of her date that evening. She continued to walk forwards and felt for the door back into the storefront. When she reached the wall, she put her arms in front of her and felt for the familiar knob, but she felt nothing. She turned around, looking back. She must have gotten turned around in the darkness. There was a door behind her, so she walked towards it, opening it upon arriving in front of it. Suddenly, light filled the hallway, and she was stepping back into her boss’s office. 

“Oh! You’re back?” Mark said, looking up from the papers on his desk. When he saw her expression, he asked, “Is everything ok, Barb?” 

“Yes,” Barb shook her head and her lost, distraught expression fell with it. “Just wanted to say thank you.”

“Of course!” Mark stood and walked towards her. “You should probably get back to work, wouldn’t want to fire you before our dinner tonight,” he laughed. Barb said her thanks and walked back out of the boss’s door. She walked through the white-walled hallway and back into the storefront. 

“You were gone a while, what was that about?” Mary shot at Barb as soon as she walked up to the counter. 

“Oh, nothing much,” Barb flushed. “I need to freshen myself up,” she added before leaving her desk again. In the restroom, Barb looked herself in the mirror. She smoothed her hair into place, even though it was still pristine and untouched. She smiled and looked at her feet, recollecting her conversation with Mark. She spent a few minutes observing herself before swiftly exiting the room. 

As quickly as she walked through the threshold, she was rapidly falling through the floor, through layers of the building she had never seen before, and into a dark room. The only light source was a smoldering candle near a trapdoor close to the ground on the right side of the room. The flame flickered, asking for Barb to draw near the small door. She complied, slowly crawling towards the candle. Her whole body was in shock from the fall. She had tried to look above her, but there appeared to be no wound in the ceiling, indicating no one had taken such measures to enter the room. Barb, however, felt otherwise. Her wrists, elbows, and knees ached from the contact with the hardwood floor. Her heartbeat pulsed through her chest and could be felt throughout her body. Her head and back throbbed from impact. Nevertheless, she pursued crawling towards the candlelight. 

Barb placed her hand above the candle, feeling the comforting warmth of the flame. That was, until a gust of wind blew through the room, chilling Barb. She covered the candle, barely preserving the flame. She took this as a sign to keep moving. Barb took the candle and candlestick, and opened the trapdoor. She crouched to see inside, but she only saw darkness. Placing the candle through the small opening, she began to crawl through herself. 

Barb pushed herself up and stood in the second room. The trapdoor slammed shut behind her, startling her. She brushed the dust from her stomach, knees, and forearms. She looked around and found another larger candle, and lit it. The room was filled with a brighter glow. In the room, Barb found a bed and a wooden desk. She ran a finger down the surface of the desk, but no dust appeared on her finger. When she sat on the bed, the linens smelled fresh, and felt as soft as her own did. Directly in front of her was a door. A wooden door, like the floors and the walls. She stood slowly and approached the door. Had it been there when she entered the room? 

Barb twisted the knob, and the door opened. She pulled it towards herself slowly, but could again only see darkness from the small opening. In a burst of confidence, she whipped the door open. Barb was faced only with a brick wall. Again she got that feeling of being trapped and lost. “I fell through the floor and now I’m in some strange bedroom with no way out,” Barb said to herself. “I fell through the floor and now I’m in some strange bedroom with no way out,” she said again, quietly, falling back onto the bed, sitting, and gripping the edge of the mattress. “I fell through the floor and now I’m in some strange bedroom with no way out!” Barb was nearly yelling, dragging her hands down her face. 

Suddenly, the quiet hum of air filled the silence of the room. Barb looked up. She looked around, but saw no way for any breeze to enter the room. She stood once more, and walked to the desk. Above the desk, attached to the wall, Barb noticed a pipe painted the same color as the wall. She ran her hand down it and felt a small gush of air exiting from a pinhole. She leaned forwards, but was hit in the face with a greater burst of air. It smelled strange, sort of like rotten eggs. “What is that?” Barb asked herself. “Where is it coming from?” 

Asking this made her situation no better, as the gas seemed to come from pipes all over the room. The stench got worse. Barb began coughing, and soon she got lightheaded. It must be a poisonous gas, she thought, searching the room for another way out. She pushed on the trapdoor, willing it to open again, but it didn’t budge. She even tried kicking it, but the little wooden door wouldn’t give in. The room had no windows, only the bed and desk, so she tried the door previously blocked by a wall again. To her surprise, the door opened easily and a hallway appeared in front of her. She sprinted down the hallway at full speed, only stopping when she reached the end, and could catch her breath. 

Barb noticed a staircase to her right and a door to her left. She tried the door first, but it was locked, so she began ascending the staircase. She walked up two flights of stairs, only to be met with a dead end. The stairs had led her to another brick wall. Barb turned and walked back down the stairs. She noticed a door that she hadn’t seen on the way up, and decided to open it. She walked inside and found nothing but a broom closet. The dark space was dusty and displayed only a few mops, brooms, and buckets, each of which was respectively covered in its fair share of spider webs. 

Suddenly, the door to the closet swung shut behind her, leaving Barb in pitch darkness. Of course, she attempted to reopen the door, but had no luck. In the lightless room, she decided to persist and began feeling around for any other way out. Barb had no wish to touch the dust drenched webs, so she felt around with her feet. She slid her foot across the floor, knocking over a broom and startling herself. However, in the far left of the room, she felt a protrusion on the floor. It was square and barely taller than the floorboards- another trapdoor. Barb immediately got to her hands and knees and felt for a latch. A handle sat atop the door, but a latch was bolted together with a hefty lock. 

Barb pulled a bobby pin from her hair, slightly dismantling her pristine hairstyle, and pushed one prong into the hole of the lock. She twisted and pushed until the lock popped open. She pulled hard on the latch and the door released from its entrapments. Barb was met with warm glowing light. She opened the hatch completely and began her descent down the rusty ladder below. 

Barb reached the bottom of the ladder, jumped down to the floor, and brushed her hands off. She began walking towards the light, her footsteps clinked against the concrete floor. As she walked, she felt warmer. The light must have been from a fire somewhere. Barb heard the scurry of small feet and stopped in her tracks. It’s only mice, she told herself, and she continued walking every so slowly towards the source of the light. 

Barb turned to her left at the end of the hall-like room. Before her lay a crematorium. A complete crematorium in what seemed to be like a basement. “Seems you found my secret room,” a raspy, distorted voice said behind Barb. Barb screamed, then covered her mouth and turned around. 

“I’m sorry, you startled me,” Barb said to the voice of a man in the shadows.

“All good reason to be,” he said back, slowly a silhouette emerging from the dark. Barb stood in place and watched the man. When he was finally visible, Barb could see that he was ghostly pale with sunken but captivating eyes. He had a mustache and wore a battered hat. His attire was from the 1890’s. 

“Excuse me, who are you?” Barb was shaking, but tried to act confident. The closer the man got, the less alive he looked. He continued walking ominously towards Barb. “Hello?” His footsteps clinked rhythmically against the floor. 

“You’re in my hotel,” he said. “People now call it a ‘murder castle’, but really it’s a hotel.” The man broke into a grin, one that kept creeping up towards his ears, too wide for his face. 

“This is your place? You have some strange staircases and doors, you may want to have that looked at,” Barb replied. The person was closer now. Barb took a step back and felt the warmth of the fire on her back. 

“You’re not the first person to suggest my insanity,” he said before instantaneously bursting into a full sprint towards Barb. She stumbled a few steps backwards, and the man stopped right before her. They stood face to face. He reeked of rotting flesh and blood. “You can call me Holmes,” the ghost said, then firmly pushed Barb backwards into a pit of fire.

It didn’t take long for the flames to engulf her body.

Barbara Jones went missing May 7, sharing the death day of one of America’s first serial killers. She was last seen in the post office built in place of the H. H. Holmes Murder Castle.