Evelyn Carter, a weary traveler in her late twenties, drags her suitcase to the door of room 206. She hesitates, eyeing the oddly cold doorknob, before sliding her key into the lock. The silence is deep, punctuated only by the distant rumble of thunder outside.
"Just one night," she murmurs, trying to reassure herself as she enters.
Evelyn sets her things down and shivers, rubbing her arms. She notices a faint, sweet perfume lingering in the air, an aroma that seems out of place in the musty room. Her phone buzzes, but the screen flickers and dies, leaving her alone with the oppressive quiet.
Evelyn sits bolt upright, her breath catching in her throat. The figure’s long hair cascades over her shoulders, and her hands are clasped as if in prayer. The perfume grows stronger, mingling with a sudden scent of lilies and sorrow.
"Who are you?" Evelyn whispers, her voice trembling.
The apparition’s voice is a soft, echoing whisper, barely more than a breath. The White Lady, with eyes full of longing, finally meets Evelyn’s gaze.
"Help me find peace. Tell them the truth," she pleads, her voice carrying the weight of decades of loneliness.
Lydia Marrow[/@ch_2], betrayed and silenced a century ago.]
Evelyn reads the final entry, her heart aching for the lost soul. Determined, she gathers the diary and descends to the lobby, where the hotel’s night clerk eyes her curiously.
"I think it’s time people knew what happened in room 206," Evelyn says, her voice steady.
The White Lady appears in the doorway, her expression serene. She smiles at Evelyn, her form growing fainter with each heartbeat.
"Thank you," she whispers, and with that final blessing, she is gone, leaving only hope and sunlight in her wake.