Short Horror Stories

The Inn

Jessica and Samantha were driving up to Scotland when Jessica's car suddenly sputtered and died. Darkness was quickly falling, and an unsettling cold settled in. Desperate, they called an Uber, which surprisingly had service in such a remote area. They requested to be taken to the nearest inn to rest for the night and figure out their car situation in the morning.

The inn they arrived at looked like a relic from another era - an old Victorian manor with gothic arches and shadowy alcoves. The place felt eerily still, with a heavy atmosphere that weighed on their shoulders.

Upon entering, an old man who appeared to be in his 90s greeted them. His face was deeply wrinkled, and he wore a smart suit, straight out of the 19th century. To their left, a bartender polished glasses, his attire equally outdated.

Jessica whispered to Samantha, "Is there some historical reenactment going on?"

"I don't know, but it's creepy," Samantha replied, her eyes darting around.

Pushing their unease aside, they approached the old man at the reception. "We need a room for the night," Jessica said.

The old man fixed them with a piercing gaze, then handed them an antique-looking key. "Room 13," he intoned.

The girls exchanged glances. "Isn't the number 13 supposed to be unlucky?" Samantha whispered.

"Superstitious much?" Jessica chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

They made their way to their room. The corridors were dimly lit with flickering candlelight. Portraits of stern-looking ancestors lined the walls, their eyes seeming to follow the two.

As they settled in, Jessica noticed an old portrait in their room. It depicted a beautiful woman, dressed similarly to the inn's staff. Her expression was sorrowful, and her eyes seemed to shimmer with real tears.

Suddenly, a chilling gust of wind blew through the room, extinguishing the candles. Samantha screamed, "Did you feel that?"

Jessica, trying to calm her friend, replied, "It's just the wind. This is an old building."

The night grew darker and colder. Jessica was woken up by a soft singing. The mournful melody floated through the air, echoing through the corridors.

"Samantha, do you hear that?" Jessica whispered. But Samantha was fast asleep.

The singing grew louder, drawing Jessica into the hallway. She felt an irresistible urge to follow the voice. It led her to a grand ballroom. Inside, couples dressed in 19th-century attire danced gracefully. At the center was the woman from the portrait, her eyes still filled with sorrow.

Suddenly, the room went silent. All eyes turned to Jessica. The woman from the portrait spoke, "You shouldn't be here."

A rush of memories flooded Jessica's mind. Scenes from a past life, where she and the woman were friends, played out. The woman's name was Eleanor, and she had died tragically in the inn. Eleanor's spirit, trapped in the manor, was desperate for company. She had drawn Jessica to the ballroom to keep her there forever.

Jessica tried to flee, but invisible hands held her back. She screamed, waking Samantha.

Rushing to the ballroom, Samantha found Jessica frozen, her eyes vacant. Samantha grabbed her friend, pulling her out. The ghosts of the inn, angered at the disturbance, swirled around them. Objects flew, doors slammed, and the entire inn shook.

Thinking fast, Samantha remembered a ritual her grandmother had taught her to dispel restless spirits. She began chanting, the power of her voice echoing throughout the inn.

The ghosts paused, disoriented. Seizing the moment, Samantha dragged Jessica outside. As they fled, the inn seemed to age rapidly, crumbling to dust before their eyes.

Once safe, Samantha performed another ritual to break Eleanor's hold on Jessica.

Jessica, now back to herself, hugged her friend tightly. "Thank you," she whispered.

The two returned to their broken car, determined to put the night's horrors behind them. But as they drove away, they couldn't help but glance back at the ruins of the old Victorian manor, a chilling reminder of the world beyond the living.