Shadows in the Inverted: The Lament of the Head-Down Guest

The sun had barely dipped below the horizon, casting an eerie glow over the old, decrepit hotel that stood on the edge of a quiet town. The Hotel Inverted Dreams was a place of whispers and shadows, its reputation as a sanctuary for the weary and the lost well-earned. But none of its guests were as unforgettable as the one who checked in that fateful night.

Her name was Eliza, and she had a secret that only the hotel's haunted halls knew. She was a traveler with a heavy heart, her eyes clouded by sorrow and a past that she wished to leave behind. The hotel, with its creaking floors and peeling wallpaper, seemed the perfect place to lay low and let the memories fade.

As Eliza settled into her room, she felt the weight of the night pressing down on her, an unseen force that whispered secrets in her ear. She had chosen Room 17, the room with the most haunted history, for she was a woman of fate, or so she believed.

That night, as the moon hung low in the sky, Eliza's sleep was restless. She felt the bed dip, as if someone else was sharing her bed. Her eyes flickered open, but the room was dark and silent. She must have imagined it, she thought, and drifted back to sleep.

The next thing she knew, she was standing in the room's bathroom, her face in the mirror, her hair tousled, and her eyes wide with fear. She turned, and there was no one else in the room. But the mirror showed her reflection, only inverted, as if looking through a funhouse mirror.

Panic set in. She ran to the window, but it was locked. She screamed, her voice echoing through the empty halls. The sound was not hers; it was a woman's, older, anguished, and it seemed to come from everywhere at once.

Eliza stumbled to the door, but it wouldn't budge. She pounded on it, her voice raw with fear. "Let me out!" she cried. No one answered. She pounded harder, the door shaking, but it remained steadfast.

She collapsed to the floor, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The walls seemed to close in around her, and the darkness pressed against her skin. The sound of the woman's voice grew louder, more insistent. "Help me, please," it seemed to say.

Eliza's mind raced. There had to be a way out. She remembered seeing a window in the bathroom, but she couldn't reach it. She tried to pull herself up, but her strength was failing. She was trapped, locked in a room with the ghost of a woman who had once been there, just as she was now.

Her breath grew ragged. She felt the presence of the woman closer, as if she were standing right next to her. Eliza's eyes shot open, and she saw the woman's reflection in the mirror. She was head-down, her hair matted with sweat and her eyes wide with terror.

The woman's voice was louder now. "Help me, Eliza," it echoed in her mind. "Break the mirror, escape the room, but do it now."

Eliza's fingers trembled as she reached out, her hand shaking, her heart pounding. She felt the cool glass under her fingertips. With all her remaining strength, she slammed her hand against the mirror, shattering it into a thousand pieces.

The room filled with light, blinding Eliza as it flooded in. She stumbled back, the shards of glass cutting her hands, but she didn't feel the pain. The woman's voice grew fainter, until it was gone, and the room was still and silent.

Eliza stumbled to the window, her fingers finding the lock and sliding it open. She leaned out, her breath catching in her throat as she looked down into the darkness. There was no one to see her, but she didn't care. She would take her chances.

With a deep breath, she jumped out, her body hurtling through the air, the ground coming up to meet her with a jarring impact. She lay on the ground, breathing heavily, her body aching, but she was free.

She ran, her heart pounding in her chest, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the empty streets. She didn't stop until she reached the town's outskirts, where the houses were few and far between, and she could finally rest.

The sun had risen by the time she found a bench to sit on. She looked back at the hotel, its dark windows and shadowy figure, and she knew she had escaped a nightmarish fate. But the hotel's head-down guest had not been so lucky.

Eliza never returned to the Hotel Inverted Dreams. She moved on, her past a heavy burden that she hoped to leave behind forever. But the story of the head-down guest had spread, and those who dared to venture into the hotel were often heard whispering about the woman's ghost, trapped forever, head-down, in Room 17.