Room 666

Jack was a traveler. For months, he moved from town to town, carrying only a small bag with his few belongings. He didn’t have a home — or maybe, he didn’t want one. His life was a search for something he couldn’t name. That evening, the sky was heavy with rain. The sun had set hours ago, and darkness swallowed the little town of Hillview. Jack walked down the empty street, hoping to find a place to stay.

After a long search, he saw a large building at the edge of town — an old hotel. Its windows were dimly lit, and the sign above the door swung in the wind. It read “Hillview Hotel.” Jack felt relief. He pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The hotel lobby was quiet and smelled of dust and old wood. The floor creaked under Jack’s boots. A woman sat behind the reception desk, reading a worn book. “Hello,” Jack said. The woman looked up. “Hello. Are you looking for a room?” “Yes. For the night.” She hesitated. “We have only one room left.” Jack’s heart sank. “Which one?” She whispered, “Room 666.” Jack smiled nervously. “Room 666? Isn’t that the devil’s number?” She shrugged. “Some people believe it is. Some say the room is cursed. But it’s just a room.” Jack needed sleep more than stories. “I’ll take it.”

The receptionist gave Jack an old brass key. “Be careful,” she said. “If you hear anything… don’t listen.” Jack laughed. “I’m not afraid.” He stepped into the elevator. The metal cage rattled as it climbed to the sixth floor. When the doors opened, the hallway was dark and cold. The walls were cracked, and the paint peeled. Jack’s breath came out in little clouds. At the end of the hall was Room 666. The door was scratched and the red numbers looked like fresh blood. Jack’s heart pounded, but he unlocked the door and stepped inside.