Eternal Love

The Royale

Valerie pulled her car into the gravel parking lot of The Royale Hotel, a stately old building perched on a cliff overlooking the ocean. As she stepped out into the bracing sea air, she shivered slightly, and it wasn't just from the chill. Ever since she was a little girl, Valerie had been fascinated by ghost stories and tales of the paranormal. Now in her mid-twenties, she investigated haunted locales as a hobby, hoping to capture evidence of the unexplained.

The Royale was rumored to be haunted by the ghosts of a bride and groom who had been murdered on their wedding night decades ago. Some said the spirits were doomed to wander the halls eternally, searching for the love and happiness that had been so cruelly ripped away from them. Valerie didn't necessarily believe every ghost story she heard, but she couldn't resist the chance to explore the historic hotel and see if she could contact the resident specters.

After checking in at the front desk, Valerie made her way to the honeymoon suite where the newlyweds had supposedly been killed. She set her overnight bag on the bed and looked around the room. With heavy antique furnishings, ornate wallpaper, and a crackling fireplace, the decor was old-fashioned but well-kept, showing the hotel's long history.

Valerie spent the first few hours acquainting herself with the layout of the suite and unpacking her ghost-hunting equipment - cameras, EMF readers, and recorders. She took baseline readings of the electromagnetic fields and temperature. So far everything seemed normal, with no flickering lights or unexplained cold spots.

Were the ghosts hiding?

As darkness fell, Valerie climbed into the big mahogany bed, knowing she would need to be rested for a long night of investigating. She was just drifting off to sleep when she heard a faint thump from the wardrobe in the corner. Bolting upright, she scanned the room with her flashlight but saw nothing amiss. The wardrobe doors stood ajar. Valerie cautiously approached and swung them open the rest of the way, heart pounding. Inside hung nothing but empty wire hangers.

Letting out a shaky laugh, Valerie chided herself for being so easily spooked. This place had her imagination in overdrive. She turned to go back to bed and paused. There, on the wardrobe floor, lay a dusty old shoebox. Kneeling, Valerie lifted the lid. Inside were aged letters, postmarked decades ago.

Why had these been hidden away?

Unable to resist a mystery, she carried the box to the bed to read by flashlight.

The letters were passionate, if poorly written. They were love notes between the groom and a mystery woman, evidently carrying on an affair behind the bride's back. As Valerie read on in fascination, a chilling picture emerged - the groom had fallen madly in love with this other woman and regretted his engagement. On his wedding night, he murdered his new wife in a fit of rage and despair. But the story didn't end there. In a final letter, the other woman broke things off with him, horrified by his crime of passion. It seemed the groom had condemned himself to a lifetime alone.

Valerie sat staring at the faded pages. This was the missing piece of the puzzle, the clue to the tragic history that still haunted The Royale. Suddenly, the temperature of the room plummeted. Valerie's breath came out in icy puffs as she scrambled to gather the letters and switch her camera back on.

"Are you here?" she called out softly.

"Can you give me a sign?"

A rich aroma of freesia filled the air- the bride's wedding bouquet, Valerie thought. She felt an icy tingle flow through her body. Then came a whisper, so close it was as if the voice spoke inside her own head.

"Let me in. I must find him!"

Valerie's limbs went rigid, her hands clenching. She tried to cry out but could not make a sound. It was clear she was no longer alone in her body. The spirit of the murdered bride had possessed her.

Valerie watched helplessly as her possessed body moved across the room, her steps stiff and unnatural. She felt herself being drawn toward the door by some otherworldly force. The ghost was propelling her to search the hotel, using her body to continue its endless quest to reunite with its tragic groom.

Down the hallway and grand staircase glided Valerie's body, floating silently like a haunted marionette. Through parlors, libraries, and the soaring ballroom she wandered, seeing no sign of her spirit captor's lost love. In the darkness, she heard faint sobs and murmurs all around her, echoes of the pain and heartbreak that permeated The Royale's very walls.

At last, Valerie found herself being guided out onto the windswept cliffside overlooking the sea. The crashing of the waves hundreds of feet below reverberated like thunder. Valerie's hands clung desperately to the railing, her body leaning out precariously over the abyss.

"Please, stop!" she begged silently.

"I want to help you, but not like this!"

The presence released its hold, and Valerie collapsed to her knees, weeping with relief. The night was cold, but she had never felt such warmth at being alone in her body.

Yet now she understood the bride's unrest. Doomed by love and betrayal, the ghost was compelled to roam endlessly, seeking the only one who could make her spirit whole. Though their passion had led to tragedy, Valerie knew that sometimes the greatest mistakes are made in pursuit of what the heart wants most.

As the first rays of dawn lit the cliffs, Valerie made her way back inside, now seeing The Royale through wiser, more sympathetic eyes. She packed up her equipment quietly, knowing she had found all the answers this sad place could provide.

Valerie paused at the door before walking away down the hallway, leaving the tragic hotel behind. Though she would forever be marked by her paranormal encounter, she hoped the spirits would find some measure of peace.