My name is Christian and I currently work at the Comfort Inn & Suites in the city of Long Beach, CA. This is my second story about Old friends from my hotel childhood.
Deborah (Room 126)
The Old Lady in the Cafeteria (Room 126)
Mornings have always possessed a bright light of life at the Comfort Inn & Suites of Long Beach. Travelers from different parts of the world seem to enjoy each others company in our dining room. Guests and their families would trudge out of bed early from their moments of rest for only one reason... Free Breakfast. We serve a decent Continental Deluxe Hot Breakfast in the morning hours from 6:30am to 9:30am in our cafeteria now. It has proven to be my favorite renovation here at the Inn. Plenty of guests enjoy the variety on our menu and more grow surprised to the unexpected amount of people that they get to share the food with. The three hours of breakfast have proven to be a natural ice-breaker amongst strangers. But to the front desk agents like me, the happy breakfast room changes it's mood in the midnight hours.
It seems that we employees have all had unexplained experiences that left us hesitant to enter the dining room. Accounts of moving of furniture, dropping of table items, rattling of kitchen equipment, knocking and hissing have all been recorded.
During my first Fall season of work here, I had sighted a head and half torso apparition. It was a white figure walking inside the cafeteria past the glass sliding doors. I believed it to be the image of an old woman. It could possibly have been a reflection of a pedestrian walking outside the lobby walkway, so I double checked the security camera capturing the face of the lobby. To my confusion, the cameras didn't catch anyone or anything out there. I excused the illusion as a glare from headlights of a passing car shining upon the surface of the glass doors. I can usually tell when someone is approaching the front door by viewing the reflection off of the cafeteria's glass panels.
So I went on to my usual graveyard routine and finished my reports before lunchtime. At around three in the morning I then slid one cafeteria door wide open so that I can access the vending machine and purchased some Doritos and a Snicker bar. I left that very door open through the whole time following.
"Deisel," my older brother, was the security guard on duty during that time and it was a slow November for us. Because of the night's pace, I let him rest on the couch lobby. (Well, I didn't really permit him to lay down on the lobby couch, he just did it regardless and fell asleep after a few minutes.) As a younger brother would do, I tried to ignore him and his extreme snoring the rest of the night. I was watching music videos on my laptop behind the counter when another light was seen in the cafeteria. The woman stood further into the room this time but stared at me before drifting out of view through the doorway. The seven seconds of vision felt like a lifetime of description. She was such a frightening image. Her eyes were empty black holes. Her face looked fair but her eyes would not leave my focus. The lady was a faint holographic mist material from what I could guess in the shadow. I stood up shaken from her image and did not move for a minute or so. My music faded into the background and I could only hear my heartbeat. I then slowly came around the counter to wake Deisel up from his snorlax-esk slumber when he said in his sleep, " ell the old lady to leave..." (my brother's exact words). I then slapped my brother's face in reaction to his horrifying statement. Never could I imagine this event the way it has played out. He got up angry and before he could wail out, I demanded an explanation of what old lady he was referring to. I stood in complete denial at what had just happened between my brother and I. I then told him what I had seen. He first sat up irritated but the more I spoke, he finally woke in fear as he was able to gather the pieces of the lady he was dreaming about. He dreamed of the old woman from 126 that died in her bed in 2005. "Deborah" (room 126) lived here with her son who currently lives out on the streets. "Patrick" (son of Deborah) had spent all of his mother's remaining savings on drugs and other expenses after her passing. Some mornings you can find him at the local McDonald's entrance asking for spare dollars or change.
Deisel said that Deborah was pacing towards him in his nightmare and he couldn't get away from her. He was in a dark endless corridor and the dead figure stood before him. The more he would run from her, the woman would chase nearer to him. He would even be at full sprint and yet, stepping slowly, she would be right on his tail. Before she could grab him, I had awakened him from his sleep. He explained to me what she looked like and it matched my description of the breakfast room entity. He also said a bit about his friends at a beach and a cat but I don't believe it had any significance to the spirit.
We still hear things in there on a nightly basis and only one other agent has seen the woman at the same spot that I had. For my benefit, I do not tell any new agents any of the "Old Lady" stories for it makes scheduling very difficult. Gladly, I haven't worked a nightshift in 7 months.
Fact: the old rooms 126 and 128 where taken down and converted to a giant room. Today of which is now the breakfast room of our property. The hotel I once lived in has undergone many renovations to make it what it is today. As a kid, the woman from 126 wouldn't like us running across her door and would complain about the noise of the neighboring children to the front desk. I remember that when she couldn't get any assistance to silence us, she would stand under her heavy curtains in front of her glass sliding door and give us a very mean stare. So we kids just ran to the other side of the pool to play so we couldn't see her.
Today we still get an anonymous interior phone call with a strange 5 digit number. The caller never says anything back besides a negative static washing sound that constantly shrieks through the receiver.
Personal Note: As a younger brother I could not help but find the expression on my older brother's face more than funny: withdrawing my hand from his left cheek. Yeah, perhaps THE best part of this particular story was that reaction of victory following my fearful panic.