Lucas Hayes was no stranger to the road. As a travel journalist, he had spent years chasing stories in remote places, documenting forgotten legends. But nothing could have prepared him for the nightmare that awaited at the Seven-Day Inn.
It was a last-minute booking. A small, rustic inn on the outskirts of Ravenshire, a town barely visible on the map. The reviews were sparse but oddly consistent—guests praised its charm but never stayed more than a week.
“They call it the Seven-Day Inn for a reason,” the old gas station attendant had warned before Lucas arrived. “No one stays longer than that. Ever.”
The Arrival
Lucas pulled up to the inn just as the sun dipped below the treeline. The building was old but well-maintained, its wooden exterior illuminated by a warm golden glow. A woman stood on the porch, her face partially hidden by the shadows of the lanterns.
“Welcome, Mr. Hayes,” she said, her voice smooth yet distant. “I’m Eleanor, the caretaker. We’ve been expecting you.”
Lucas hesitated. “Expecting me? I only booked this morning.”
Eleanor smiled, but it never reached her eyes. “We always know when a guest is coming.”
The First Night
His room was simple but comfortable, furnished with antique decor. A grandfather clock stood in the corner, its pendulum swinging rhythmically. The bed was inviting, yet an unease settled in Lucas’s chest.
At exactly midnight, he awoke to a sound—footsteps in the hallway. Slow. Deliberate. They stopped right outside his door.
Holding his breath, Lucas listened. Silence. Then, a whisper.
“Seven days.”
When he yanked the door open, the hallway was empty.
The Unfolding Horror
Each day, the inn revealed something new. Guests appeared and disappeared without explanation. Shadows moved where they shouldn’t. The air carried a strange, metallic scent.
Lucas met another guest, a woman named Claire. She had been there for six days.
“You should leave before it’s too late,” she whispered. “Before the seventh night.”
“What happens on the seventh night?” Lucas pressed.
Claire’s hands trembled. “No one knows. No one who stays that long is ever seen again.”
The Investigation
Determined to uncover the truth, Lucas searched the inn’s archives. He found old newspaper clippings about unexplained disappearances spanning a century. Each story mentioned guests who stayed for exactly seven days.
One article stood out—a man named Victor Sallow, last seen at the inn in 1923. His final journal entry read: The shadows know my name. They wait for the seventh night.
Lucas also discovered something chilling—each missing person’s face had been scratched out from the records, as if they had never existed.
The Sixth Night
As the sixth night approached, Lucas noticed Claire growing more frantic. She packed her bags, her hands shaking.
“Come with me,” she pleaded. “We can leave together.”
Lucas hesitated. “The storm—”
“Screw the storm! If you stay, you’ll never leave!” Her voice cracked with desperation.
Before Lucas could answer, the lights flickered, and a deep, guttural groan echoed through the inn. The walls seemed to pulse, as if the building itself was alive.
Claire bolted for the front door, but Eleanor stood there, blocking her path. “Leaving already?” she asked, her voice eerily calm.
Claire let out a strangled cry as the shadows swallowed her whole. She vanished before Lucas’s eyes, as if she had never existed.
The Seventh Night
Lucas had planned to leave, but fate had other ideas. The storm raged, cutting off all roads. The power flickered, and an unnatural darkness filled the inn.
As the clock struck midnight, whispers filled the room. Figures emerged from the walls—faceless, writhing shadows. They reached for him, their voices a chorus of agony.
Eleanor stood in the doorway, her eyes black as coal. “You were warned.”
Lucas fought, ran, but the inn had already claimed him. The last thing he saw was his own reflection in the grandfather clock—warped, hollow, and no longer his own.
The Aftermath
Days later, a new guest arrived. The inn stood as it always had, waiting for its next occupant.
Eleanor greeted them with the same distant smile. “Welcome to the Seven-Day Inn. We’ve been expecting you.”
The End… or the Beginning?
