The Stanley Hotel – Story by James A.

The Stanley Hotel

We stayed in Room 217 at The Stanley mostly because it seemed like the thing to do if you’re staying there. Everybody knows the history, the Stephen King connection, the reputation. I wasn’t expecting anything weird. Honestly, I thought it would just be a cool old hotel experience.

The room itself was nice. Historic, but comfortable. That slightly creaky, old-building feel but nothing dramatic. Before bed I grabbed a couple things out of my suitcase, then zipped it back up and left it on the luggage rack near the closet. I actually remember zipping it because I joked to my wife that I didn’t want “the ghost” going through my clothes. Typical tourist joke.

At some point during the night I woke up briefly. No reason I can point to. Didn’t hear anything, didn’t see anything. Just one of those random wake-ups you get in hotels sometimes. I went back to sleep pretty quickly.

Morning was when I noticed something was off.

My suitcase was unzipped. Not wide open, just… open enough that you could tell it hadn’t stayed closed. At first I assumed I must not have zipped it properly the night before. But then I saw a couple things were out that I definitely hadn’t taken out.

A sweater I’d packed was folded on the floor next to the rack. My shaving kit was sitting beside it. That was it. Nothing dramatic. Most of my stuff was still in the suitcase.

But I knew I hadn’t put those things there.

I asked my wife if she’d gotten up during the night and grabbed something from my bag. She said no immediately, and when she saw it she looked just as confused as I felt.

So I called the front desk. I didn’t mention ghosts or anything. I just asked if housekeeping ever comes into rooms overnight.

There was a short pause before the woman said no, housekeeping finishes in the evening and no one would have entered unless we’d requested it. She was polite about it, but it didn’t feel like a totally new question to her either.

Nothing else strange happened. No sounds, no cold spots, no doors opening. And honestly, I never felt scared. It was more that quiet “huh… that’s odd” feeling you can’t quite shake.

When we checked out, I mentioned it casually to the desk clerk. She kind of smiled and said, “Some guests in 217 think the housekeeper still checks on the room.” Then she moved right along like it was just part of the place.

I’m not jumping to paranormal conclusions. Maybe I didn’t zip the suitcase as well as I thought. Maybe I moved those things half asleep and don’t remember.

Still… I double-checked the zipper before we left.

And I definitely kept my suitcase on my side of the room the rest of the stay.