It was about 1997 when my family and I vacationed in Mount Washington. To this day one of the most beautiful hotels in New Hampshire sitting right alongside a river in the middle of the mountain.
“There was a big fire here in the early 90s,” the concierge told us.
“Did everyone survive?”
“No,” he replied. “We get a lot of reports that ghosts still walking around this hotel haunting the place. I wouldn’t go up to room 314 after dark if I were you.”
I walked away asking my dad about it. You tell a nine-year-old something and they believe it.
“He’s just trying to scare you.”
“Well, I don’t believe in ghosts,” I replied.
But for that week it sat in the back of my head. What was in that room after it got dark? Probably nothing I thought. Another ghost story.
Days later, I entered the main elevator and a man I hadn’t seen all week was working it.
“The Second floor please.”
“Yes ma’am,” he replied.
“You know the man working told me there were ghosts in room 314 that came after it got dark is that true?”
“Only one way to find out isn’t there?”
I nodded. “I’m Kirsten.”
“I’m George, nice to meet you.”
I exited to my floor. And thought about what he said.
The next night before dinner, I looked twice at the hotel’s old elevator not many people used. I thought for a minute about using the main one but instead, I used that one. A couple exited and I stepped on alone pushing three.
Level Two.
Level Three
And just as I approached the third floor the lights went out and the elevator stopped. Lights flickering on and off I continued to push the lobby button but it was stuck. Then I started to cry, reaching for the red phone.
“I’m in the elevator,” I said screaming into the phone. The woman on the other end told me to remain calm and it would be okay.
Moments later the lights went back on and instead of going to the third floor like originally planned, I got redirected to the lobby.
Walking off the old elevator in tears, I ran to the main lobby towards the elevator, where I had once met George, only he wasn’t there.
I then went to the receptionist.“Excuse me, do you know where the man who works the elevator is?”
She looked at me puzzled.
“Sweetie, no one has worked in that elevator since the early 90s. Is everything okay? You looked like you saw a ghost.”
I walked away heading to dinner, believing every ghost story I ever heard from that day on.
