The Blackwood Hotel

Mr. Marcus Hale returned home around one in the night. The house was silent, almost too quiet. He set down his bag, hat, and coat, each movement slow with exhaustion.

Walking to the window, he stopped and stared out. The pale moonlight spilled into the room, casting long shadows across the floor. His body was tired, but his mind refused to rest. Thoughts circled in his head as he gazed at the moon, as if searching for answers hidden in the night sky.

Detective Marcus Hale was known for solving even the hardest murder cases. At just thirty-five, he was sharp, determined, and always experimenting with new ways to uncover the truth.

That night, he stood by his window, lost in thought about an old case, the moonlight spilling across his desk. Suddenly, his phone rang, cutting through the silence.

He glanced at the screen. No name. An unknown number. With a frown, he picked it up. A woman’s voice came through the line—soft, shaky… and strangely haunting.

Women: (in a nervous voice) H……Hello!

Hale: Hello! Who are you talking to?

Women: Are you Mr. Marcus? I need your help.

Hale: Yes, of course, I am Mr. Hale, tell me what work you have?

Women: (speaking loudly) Someone is behind me. Please come and save me.

Hale: what? Where do you live? Tell me your name and address so I can find you.

Women: (shouting) Blackwood Hotel!!

The phone gets disconnected.

Hale: Hello! Hello! Ma'am can you hear me?

Hale looks at the phone and sees that the call has been disconnected. He tries to call again but for some reason the ring doesn't ring. Hale is unable to understand what is happening to him. Hale takes him to his bed to relax.

Hale: (Isn't anyone making fun of me? Who was that girl? And why was she so nervous? What was she asking me for help about? If she wanted help, why did she hang up my phone? And then she didn't pick up the phone again? Is there some problem? And this Blackwood Hotel? Where is it? I have never heard about it before)

Mr. Hale didn’t even realize when sleep finally pulled him under. By morning, the first thing he does is grab his phone. He dials that strange number again—silence. No answer. A nervous thought creeps in: Maybe someone is just playing a cruel joke on me.

Trying to push it aside, he sits at the dining table, forcing himself to eat breakfast. The food tastes like nothing. To clear his head, he switches on the TV.

The news anchor’s voice cuts through the quiet room.

“Breaking news: a guest was found dead last night at the Blackwood Hotel. Officials are calling it a suicide.”

The words freeze Hale in place. His spoon slips from his hand. The hotel. The same hotel that has been haunting his thoughts.

The moment Mr. Hale hears the news, his chest tightens. Could that strange call from last night be connected? The thought won’t leave him. He pulls out his phone and quickly types a message to his closest ally and partner, Adrian Cross:

“Meet me at the café tonight. It’s important.”

That evening, Hale pushes open the café door. The warm lights do little to calm the storm in his mind. At a corner table, Adrian is already waiting, his sharp eyes fixed on the entrance. Hale walks over and takes a seat across from him, the weight of the day heavy on his shoulders.

Hale: How are you?

Cross: You have come. I am ordering coffee. Waiter!

The Waiter comes towards him: Yes sir! Tell me your order.

Cross: Bring two cups of coffee and some cookies with it, and put less sugar.

Waiter: ok sir! Please wait for 5 minutes. Thank you.

Saying this he leaves.

Cross: yes tell me what important thing you wanted to tell me?

Hale: did you see the news on TV this morning?

Cross: News about a girl committing suicide? Yes, I saw it.

Hale: Do you know where this Blackwood Hotel is?

Cross: Are you thinking of going there? The police completed the investigation this morning. I found out. That girl wanted to commit suicide, so she did it. What did this do to you?

Hale: If that girl wanted to do it herself, why did she call me?

Cross: What did you say??? One minute.

The waiter comes there with two cups of coffee: Take your order sir.

Cross: Thank you!

Waiter: (leaving) If you need anything else, please tell me sir.

Hale: I am telling you the truth. I got a call from a girl last night from Blackwood Hotel. She knew me and was asking for help, she was very scared. But her phone got disconnected suddenly and she never called again.

Cross: Do you think she is the same girl who committed suicide?

Hale: I'm suspicious.

Hale and Cross both go into thinking and start drinking coffee together.

Hale: (putting the cup down) will you come with me to the Blackwood Hotel?

Cross: (a mouthful of coffee pours out of it) are you in the right mind?

Hale: What happened?

Cross: That is Blackwood Hotel. It is not a common hotel like other hotels. Do you know where it is?

Hale: Whatever you know about that hotel, please tell me.

Cross (setting his cup down, his voice low): “Listen, Hale. That hotel isn’t like the others. It’s far from the city, hidden deep in the jungle. Old—too old. It was built years ago for travelers and workers who had no choice but to stay there, because there’s nothing else for miles. No other inn. No village. Nothing.”

He leans closer, his eyes narrowing.

“And that’s not all. The place is deserted most of the time… and I’ve heard whispers. Guests talk about a shadow that moves through the halls at night. A shadow that doesn’t belong to anyone… but it never lets people sleep in peace.”

Hale: Don't talk about the shadow, it only happens in stories.

Cross: I am telling you the truth. If you don't believe me, ask someone else.

Hale: I am not needed. Tell me how we can reach there?

Cross: If we leave from here in the morning, we will reach there within two to three days. The manager of that hotel used to be my friend. If you are sure, talk to him?

Hale: Yes, that's okay. You tell her that we will reach there within two days, so you make arrangements for our stay.

Cross: That's okay, I will message him.

Hale: I think that girl did not commit suicide but was killed.

Cross: (messaging on the phone) We will find out only after we go there. Anyway, when will we leave from here?

Hale: now.

Cross: now?? Are you serious?

Hale: yes. Go home and start packing. (checking the time on his watch) It's 8:00 now, we will leave from here at 12:00. I'll call you next and book a taxi.

Cross: okay. And when will we return?

Hale (firmly): “We’ll return only after we uncover the truth. No turning back.”

Cross (nodding, his tone serious): “Alright. I’ll head home now and get everything ready for the trip.”

Hale pushes back his chair and stands, his eyes still heavy with thought. “Then I’ll leave too. Take care, Cross… this won’t be easy.”

Cross gives a faint smile, though there’s tension in his voice. “I know. Goodbye, Hale. We’ll meet again.