A dimly lit hotel corridor at night, with a door labeled Room 17 slightly open. A faint shadowy figure with glowing eyes stands inside the doorway. The hallway lights flicker. On the floor, an old key lies abandoned. Outside the window at the end of the corridor, a full moon casts an eerie glow, and a dark owl perches silently.
At night, I arrived at the airport. There was no sign of any cars anywhere. It was already quite late, and I wanted to spend the night in a good hotel in the city. Suddenly, a big car came and stopped near me. The driver rolled down the window, stuck his head out, and asked me, ‘Where do you want to go?
“I want to go to a good hotel,” I said.
“I’ll take you to a nice one where the fare is also reasonable,” the driver replied, and gestured for me to get into the car.
After driving through a few winding streets, the car finally stopped in front of a large building.
“Is this the hotel?” I asked.
“Yes, this is the one,” he answered.
I handed him the fare from my pocket.
“I’ll wait here for a while, then leave,” the driver added.
“You’ll wait?” I asked, surprised.
“Yes,” he replied with a calm and thoughtful tone. “If you don’t like the hotel or if there’s no room available, I’ll take you to another one.”
“Alright,” I said and walked into the hotel.
It was an old building, but with recent renovations, it no longer looked too aged. I was going to stay in the city for two weeks, visiting on behalf of my company for some work. I wouldn’t leave until the assignment was completed.
I was given room number 17 on the second floor. The room was spacious, with windows that opened toward the market. I was extremely tired, so the moment I lay down on the bed, I fell into a deep sleep.The next morning, after waking up, I went down to the lobby for breakfast. There, I met an elderly man,name jelani. When he learned that I was staying in room number 17, he looked at me with great surprise.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
“Yes, I was extremely tired, so the moment I lay down, I fell into a deep sleep,” I replied.
“So that means you slept peacefully?” he asked again.
His question felt strange to me. Why wouldn’t someone sleep well in a hotel? Every time I’ve stayed in a hotel before, I’ve always had a good night’s sleep.
“Didn’t you sleep well?” I asked him in return.
“I’ve got a comfortable room, and I sleep peacefully every night. I’ve been staying at this hotel for two months now. Every time I visit this city, I stay here,” he said.
“But it seems you’re surprised that I had a peaceful night,” I pointed out.
“Yes, because most people who stay in room number 17 don’t get a good night’s sleep. They usually check out the very next day or ask to be moved to another floor,” he said, lowering his voice slightly.
“Why?” I asked, now alert.
“There’s something in that room that disturbs the guests. It keeps them from sleeping soundly. Many have experienced things that are hard to explain — events that go beyond logic or reason.”
“If that’s true, then why does the hotel management still assign that room to guests?” I asked.
“At first, they try to discourage the guest. But if someone insists, they hand over room number 17.”
“Did the manager try to stop you before giving you that room?” he asked.
“Yes, he did. But I liked the room and insisted on taking it,” I replied.
Something about this man, Jelani, felt mysterious. Maybe he was lying — just trying to scare me for some reason. But why would he want to scare me? What could he possibly gain from it? I couldn’t make sense of it.
After breakfast, I left the hotel to attend to my work. I spent the entire day away. When I returned and entered my room, Jelani’s words came back to me. I carefully examined the room, looking for anything strange — but there was nothing unusual, nothing that could possibly cause fear or anxiety.
I walked over to the window and looked outside. The market, now veiled in night, had lost all its liveliness. It was quiet, almost eerily so. Occasionally, a car would pass by, and then silence would fall again. No pedestrians, no sounds — just a strange, heavy stillness. The darkness made it hard to see anything clearly. The view outside felt dull and lifeless, so I stepped away from the window.
Lying on the bed, I thought again about Jelani’s warning. It all seemed like nonsense. There was nothing frightening about this room. I didn’t even realize when I drifted off to sleep.
But in the middle of the night, a loud sound startled me awake. It was music — a song playing at a high volume, and the sound was coming from inside the room. I sat up, confused, and looked around. The sound was coming from within the wall opposite me.
When I checked the clock, it was 2 a.m.
Annoyed, I thought about the guest in the next room. What kind of person plays music this loud at such an hour? Angry, I walked toward the door to confront him — but before I could open it, there was a sudden knock.
I opened the door and saw an older man standing there, visibly upset.
“What kind of time is this to be blasting music?” he snapped.
“I don’t even like listening to music,” I replied quickly.
“Then why is it coming from your room?” he asked.
“It’s not from my room,” I said, pointing toward the adjacent one. “It’s coming from there.”
“But that’s my room,” he said, frowning.
At my request, he led me into his room — but it was empty. Nothing unusual. To prove my point, I invited him into my room. He looked around as the music still played loudly.
Then he walked over to the wall of his own room — the same one connecting to mine.
“You’re right… the sound is coming from my room,” he said. “But you just saw it yourself — there’s nothing there.”
“Yes… I’m confused too,” I said. “Something strange is definitely going on.”
Then I remembered. “Earlier today, I met an old man named Jelani.”
“Jelani?” he reacted, his expression suddenly tense.
“Do you know him?” I asked.
“Jelani — the man with a short white beard, who walks with a limp?”
“Yes, that’s the one I was talking about,” I said.
He looked at me with deep concern. “He’s a mysterious man. Some people say they still see him from time to time… You should stay away from him.”
“Why stay away?” I asked, confused.
“Because he’s the same man whose body was found in room number 17.”
“Body?” I gasped, completely shocked.
“Yes. He died under strange circumstances. Room 17 was locked from the inside. No one knows who killed him, or how. After his burial, people still claim to see him — roaming around the hotel.”
“But… how is that possible?” I stammered. “If he’s dead, how can people still see him?”
“That’s the mystery,” he said with a grim expression. “No one can explain it. But everyone who’s seen him says the same thing — it’s Jelani. Even after death, he appears. And always near room 17.”
The next morning, I stepped out for work. A short distance from the hotel, I saw Jelani. He spotted me too — and smiled. But his smile felt strange, unsettling.
I quickened my pace and headed toward him. Seeing me approach, Jelani turned into a narrow alley. I followed closely — but when I entered the alley, I was stunned. Jelani was gone. The alley was a dead end. There were no houses, no doors — just bare walls. Silently, I turned back.
That night, as I returned to my room, an uneasy feeling crept over me. Jelani was supposed to be dead. But his spirit — it still roamed this place. What did it want from the people here? Why wouldn’t it leave?
Lost in those thoughts, I eventually fell asleep — not knowing when exactly I drifted off.
But then, something horrifying happened.
In my sleep, I suddenly felt hands tightening around my neck. I couldn’t breathe. My eyes bulged. I struggled, barely managing to free myself. When I opened my eyes, what I saw filled me with terror.
It was Jelani — standing at a distance, watching me… and smiling.
“How did you get into my room?” I asked.
“Death…” he said in a chilling tone, “…I am death. And death can enter anywhere. No one can stop it. I won’t let you go.”
“But you’re already dead!” I shouted. “How can someone be killed again if they’re already gone?”
He laughed loudly — a sound that echoed in the room.
“I want to kill you,” he said.
“Why?” I asked, desperate.
“I was murdered in this room. Now, whenever someone stays here, I try to scare them away. If they don’t leave… I kill them. Tonight, it’s your turn. Get ready to die.”
In a panic, I ran toward the door and tried to open it. Suddenly, a bird — or something like one — clawed at my back. The pain made me scream.
As the door burst open, I turned back.
Jelani was gone.
In his place stood a terrifying owl, licking the blood from its razor-sharp talons. Its glowing eyes were fixed directly on me.
My scream had been so loud that people in neighboring rooms heard it. Several guests came running. The owl flew out the window and disappeared into the night.
Everyone wanted to know what had happened. I told them the entire story.
“You shouldn’t have stayed in that room,” a young man said. “Jelani’s spirit can harm you.”
Everyone agreed with him. Fortunately, a room had just become vacant, so I shifted there that night. Still, I couldn’t sleep. Fear kept me awake until dawn.
Over the next two weeks, I finished my business assignments. During that time, Jelani never appeared again. When my work was done, I packed up and returned to my city.
Though I’ve visited that town many times since, I never stayed at that hotel again. I always chose a different one.
Years have passed now — but even today, whenever someone mentions Room 17, a chill runs down my spine.