It used to be easy, going into so called "Haunted Houses." I've always believed in something, though I'm not quite sure what. A "higher power" would be the wrong words. I guess you could say I believed in whatever I could see. I've never really believed in ghosts, but the last place I went to changed my mind for sure.
I had gone down to the Dolphin Hotel. They had a mysterious room there that was said to kill whoever goes in it. It seemed easy enough. Go in, write down the creepy stuff, get a good night's sleep, and go home and print it out for my next book. But it didn't happen like that. That room, 1408, was evil.
I can't even begin to explain the horrible things that went on in that room, but let me just say one thing: If you're looking for thrills, I'd suggest sky-diving before you go to the Dolphin Hotel.
After my daughter spoke to me from beyond the grave, as they say, I was weirded out, to say the least. I mean, she was dead. Yet here she was, her weak, helpless voice recorded onto my little tape recorder for all to hear. My wife, Lily, she almost passed out after I convinced her it wasn't a joke. Once she calmed down enough, we got into a fight about what to do with the recording. I wanted to keep it, to remember Katie's voice, to picture her in my arms again. Lily wanted to destroy it because it was "from the devil." Well, just because I had almost died, doesn't mean she had any more feeling for me, or I for her, for that matter. I went my own way to an apartment not far from the infamous hotel, determined to stick it out and discover the room's evil secret. How did my daughter come from beyond the grave? Was it really her, or was it a trick, a halucination? But, if it was just a trick, how did my daugher's voice end up recorded on my tape recorder? Was that just the room trying to fuck with me? I couldn't just run away like Lily. I had to find out. I had to.