The Haunted Elevator at the Nanjing River Hotel

The neon lights flickered above the grand entrance of the Nanjing River Hotel, casting a soft glow on the wet cobblestone street below. It was the dead of night, and the city was silent, save for the distant hum of traffic and the occasional honk of a passing car. The hotel stood as a majestic silhouette against the night sky, a beacon of elegance and luxury.

In the hotel's dimly lit lobby, a young woman named Emily stepped out of the taxi. She clutched her suitcase tightly, her heart pounding with excitement and a hint of trepidation. This was her first trip to Shanghai, and she was here to attend a conference that would change her life. The hotel had been recommended by a colleague, known for its impeccable service and luxurious accommodations.

As Emily approached the reception desk, she was greeted by a smiling concierge who handed her a key card. "Room 312," he said with a nod. "Enjoy your stay."

Emily's breath caught in her throat as she took the elevator to the third floor. The elevator was a small, cramped space, its walls lined with faded wallpaper and peeling paint. The doors closed with a metallic clink, and the elevator began its ascent. She could feel the cold air seeping through the door, making her shiver.

"Third floor," the intercom announced, and the doors opened. Emily stepped out, her eyes adjusting to the dim lighting of the hallway. She glanced around, searching for her room, when she noticed something odd. The elevator doors had begun to close, even though she was standing right in front of them.

"Wait," she called out, but the doors were already sliding shut. She reached out, grasping the door frame with both hands. The elevator doors gave way, but only slightly, leaving her trapped in the hallway. She pounded on the door, her voice echoing through the empty corridor.

"Please, someone help me!" she shouted, but there was no response. The elevator doors began to close again, and she was forced to retreat. She stumbled backwards, her fingers slipping from the cool metal frame. The elevator doors closed with a final, ominous thud.

Emily's heart raced as she made her way to room 312. The door opened with a click, and she stepped inside, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. The room was elegant, with a plush king-sized bed, a large window with a view of the bustling city, and a luxurious bathroom. But as she settled into the plush chair, her mind wandered back to the elevator.

That night, as she lay in bed, she could hear the faint sound of the elevator doors opening and closing. It was a rhythmic sound, almost soothing, but it was unsettling. She rolled over, trying to ignore the noise, but it grew louder, more insistent.

"Emily, you need to leave the hotel," a voice whispered in her ear. It was a man's voice, deep and gravelly. She sat up in bed, her heart pounding. "Who's there?" she called out, but there was no answer.

The next morning, Emily was determined to find the source of the mysterious sounds. She began by asking the concierge about the hotel's history. "We have an old elevator," he said with a shrug. "It's been around since the hotel opened, and it's always been a bit... peculiar."

Emily decided to investigate the elevator herself. She found it on the ground floor, its doors painted a faded shade of green. The elevator was even smaller than the one on the third floor, and the walls were adorned with rusted metal plates and old photographs.

As she stepped inside, she felt a cold breeze brush against her skin. The elevator descended with a jarring jolt, and the doors opened to reveal a dimly lit basement. She stepped out, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. The basement was filled with old furniture, dusty boxes, and cobwebs.

Emily began to explore, calling out as she went. "Is anyone here?" she shouted, but there was no response. She found a small office at the end of the basement, its door slightly ajar. She pushed it open and stepped inside.

The office was cluttered with old papers and photographs. As she sifted through the documents, she found a letter addressed to the hotel's manager. The letter spoke of a guest who had checked into room 312, only to vanish without a trace. The manager had sent a team to search for the guest, but they had found nothing.

Emily's heart raced as she read the letter. She had checked into room 312. Could this be the source of the elevator's eerie sounds? She continued to search the office, and eventually, she found a small, ornate box. Inside the box was a locket, its chain twisted and broken.

The locket contained a photograph of a young woman and a man. The woman was smiling, her eyes filled with joy. The man was older, his face etched with lines of sorrow. Emily recognized the woman from the photograph on the wall of the elevator. It was the spirit she had heard whispering to her.

Determined to uncover the truth, Emily returned to the elevator. She stepped inside, her heart pounding with fear. The elevator descended into the basement, and the doors opened to reveal the office again. She approached the locket, her fingers trembling as she opened it.

The photograph slipped out, and she saw the man's face more clearly. It was the same man she had seen in the elevator. He was looking at her, his eyes filled with pain and sorrow. Emily's heart broke as she realized that the man was the spirit she had encountered.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I didn't know."

The man's eyes softened, and he reached out to touch her face. She felt a surge of warmth, and the room began to spin. She opened her eyes to find herself back in her hotel room, the locket in her hand.

The elevator doors opened, and the man stepped out. "Thank you," he said, his voice soft and gentle. "You have brought peace to my rest."

Emily nodded, tears streaming down her face. She watched as the man disappeared through the door, and then she collapsed onto the bed, exhausted but at peace.

The next morning, Emily checked out of the hotel. She left the locket behind, hoping that it would bring comfort to the man's spirit. As she stepped into the taxi, she looked back at the hotel, its neon lights still flickering above the entrance.

She had spent a night in the haunted elevator, but she had also found a piece of peace. The man's story had haunted her, but it had also brought her closer to understanding the world around her. And as she drove away from the Nanjing River Hotel, she knew that she would never forget the night she had spent with the ghost of room 312.