November 23, 2024
It was the perfect storm for a ghost hunt. Cold, crisp Nevada air clung to the mountains like a ghost of its own, and the couple—Shelly and Craig—were giddy with anticipation. They’d talked about doing this for years, ever since they got hooked on all those paranormal reality shows. Every episode teased hidden truths, whispered voices, and shadowy figures. Virginia City had been featured on so many of those shows, and now they were here, standing at the doors of the Union Brewery.
They’d shelled out more money than they were comfortable admitting for the chance to stay overnight in the historic bar. “It’ll be worth it,” Craig had said, his hands trembling as he clicked the payment button online. “This place has everything—a haunted history, old tunnels, even deaths.”
The email confirmation had been terse. Your contact: John Morris. Arrive at 10:00 PM. Leave by 6:00 AM. Payment non-refundable.
John Morris wasn’t there to meet them when they arrived, just a handwritten note taped to the door. Key under the mat. Lock up when you leave.
They didn’t think much of it. Ghost hunts were often self-guided.
Inside, the bar smelled of stale beer, cedar, and mildew—a scent Shelly would later come to associate with dread. They set up their gear in the upstairs apartment: an EVP recorder, a ghost box, an Ovilus, and their phones for backup. The first few hours were disappointing, filled with awkward questions into the ether: “Is anyone here with us?”
Nothing.
Occasional creaks and the sound of shifting wood provided false hope, but the EVP recorder caught nothing, and the ghost box spat out garbled radio snippets that sounded like FM stations bleeding into one another. Craig’s enthusiasm turned to frustration.
“Maybe they’re shy,” Shelly offered.
“Or maybe this whole thing’s a scam.” Craig smacked the ghost box in irritation.
By 2:00 AM, they were in the basement. A black void stretched in front of them, lit only by the cold light of their flashlight beams. The basement walls, cracked and bowing inward, seemed to lean closer the longer they stared.
“This is where they’d hide,” Craig whispered, fiddling with the Ovilus.
“Who?” Shelly asked.
“Spirits. You know. Down where it’s dark and hidden. Come on.” He set the Ovilus down and bellowed, “Show yourselves!”
Silence.
“Don’t taunt them,” Shelly hissed, a shiver climbing her spine.
“Why not? It works on TV!” Craig shouted, louder this time. “Do something! Knock on a wall! Prove you’re real!”
Footsteps answered from above.
They ran upstairs, their hearts pounding, but found only empty barstools and the eerie glow of the beer taps. Craig grabbed the Ovilus, shaking it like it might wake up. “Who are you?” he demanded.
It stayed silent for so long Shelly began to doubt it even worked. Then, with a soft click, the screen lit up. One word appeared:
“Duty.”
Shelly’s breath caught. “What does that mean?”
“Maybe a soldier?” Craig said, his voice quivering with excitement. “Or a sheriff? Something official?”
Encouraged, they kept asking questions. Another word appeared.
“Fire.”
“Firefighter?” Shelly guessed. “Maybe they died in a fire.”
But no matter how hard they pressed, the Ovilus went quiet again. They spent the next hour chasing shadows that never appeared, whispering theories back and forth, the thrill slowly draining from their faces.
By 4:00 AM, frustration gave way to weariness. “Let’s just pack up,” Craig sighed.
But when they reached the front door, it was chained from the outside.
“That wasn’t part of the deal,” Shelly said, pulling uselessly at the heavy lock.
They went to the back door, descending into the pitch-black basement again. The smell of damp earth was stronger this time. The door was locked tight. No signal on their phones, either.
“It’s a liability thing, right?” Craig tried to sound calm. “They lock us in so no one breaks in.”
“Yeah,” Shelly murmured, but her voice was thin.
They climbed back upstairs, eyes darting toward every shadow. They smashed a second-floor window and climbed out onto the balcony, finally getting a signal to call John Morris.
“I’m coming,” John said, his voice tinny over the phone.
Back inside, they waited, but the footsteps came again—slow, deliberate, heavier than before. “John?” Craig called out, but no one answered.
The Ovilus buzzed to life.
“John.”
“Wait,” Shelly said, her throat tightening. “Is that you?”
Another word: “Morris.”
Craig’s hands shook. “Are you the one who rented us the bar?”
“Yes.”
They stared at each other, dread dawning.
“Are you a ghost?” Shelly asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you going to let us go?”
The Ovilus paused. Then:
“No.”
The footsteps charged up the stairs, faster and faster. Shelly screamed. They ran back to the apartment, toward the broken window—but froze.
Thirty figures stood in front of the window, their forms translucent and twisted. They stared with hollow eyes, their faces etched with silent terror.
“Did John Morris trap you here?” Craig choked out.
From the bar below, the Ovilus replied: “Yes.”
“Are we trapped too?”
The screen lit up one last time: “Forever.”
Footsteps thundered toward them, a blinding light exploded—and then, silence.
When Shelly and Craig opened their eyes, they were no longer holding their equipment. They stood over two crumpled bodies sprawled on the floor. Their bodies.
From the shadows, a woman stepped out of a hidden room, her face pale and gaunt.
Shelly tried to scream, but no sound came. The woman dragged their bodies down to the basement. They watched in horror as she methodically dug shallow graves in the dirt floor and buried them.
When the woman was done, she turned to the new ghosts. “Welcome,” she said, her voice a hollow rasp. “I have, and will always have, the most haunted hotel in all of Virginia City. And all due to the help of my friend.”
The door to the basement slammed shut. They tried to follow her, but an invisible barrier stopped them at the edge of the building. Outside, the first rays of dawn lit the street.
Inside, the air grew colder, and heavier. The thirty spirits stood around them, staring.
Trapped.
When they came to find their first ghosts, they never assumed that they’d be joining them.
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