Years ago my mother had a conference to attend in Washington, D.C. My sister and I got to go with her to some of her conferences if it meant educational stuff - and of course, who could pass up D.C.? It was a really fun trip, mostly because getting lost in the Natural History section of the Smithsonian made up for the shitty weather.
We stayed in this old-ass hotel in the city, five floors, had been added onto over the decades so some of the floors rose and fell as you walked through the hallways. It had the slowest elevator ever. The place smelled old, looked old, the whole bit. It even had the crazy fisheye peepholes on the doors that moved so you could look up and down the hallway from inside the room - I'd never seen those before. We had a suite (which I'd never experienced in our travels - it was always a single room), so having a kitchen and living room and not having to be kept awake by my mother's late-night work was excellent.
The first night, sis and I passed out early in the master bedroom. Mom took the foldout couch in the living room of the suite. She was up late working on her laptop so sis and I had the door closed to the bedroom - my mom is the loudest typist I've ever known in my life. All night I heard clicking and thumping from the wall - the wall that the hallway was up against outside the suites. I was creeped the hell out and didn't sleep well at all. There's also this weird smell sometimes, like burnt toast. All in all, a rough first night.
Morning came, Mom asks how we slept, and mentions that she was up late and didn't sleep well either. Sis and I mention that weird noises kept us up all night, and Mom says it was probably the elevator motor. Sis and I aren't buying it (typical skeptical pre-teens who love ghost stories). Anyway, coffee is made, we decide to check out some of what the Smithsonian has to offer that day. I think it was the Air and Space Museum.
Fast forward to the next morning. Thumps, creaks, and groans all night from the other side of the wall, and I've managed to convince myself that it's the elevator. When we wake up, we've decided we're going to go visit the national monuments on the Mall, and start making plans. Mom asks if we heard the kid last night.
'Huh? No, we didn't hear the kid. Hey, thanks for making toast!' we say as we wander towards the kitchen. Mom gives us a weird look, and asks if we've been smelling it too. Three glances between all of us and we all start to check around the suite for anything that could be burning - Mom mentions she hadn't bought food yet, so nothing was available except for coffee in the morning. It wasn't in the kitchen, though, the smell was always right at the doorway between the living room and bedroom. We write it off as drafts from next door.
We were in D.C. for ten days; mainly I remember it being rainy and hating being in that hotel suite. I never saw any other guests, so it was your typical Old Scary Upscale Hotel the whole time. On our last night there, Mom plops down on the bed where sister and I are sitting. She then proceeds to tell us that every night we've been there, late at night, she's been hearing this kid running up and down the hallway. Little footsteps, fast, really late at night.
She'd hung the "Do Not Disturb" placard on the doorknob when we first checked in, and when she'd hear the footsteps stop at the door she could hear the placard being spun around and around the doorknob. She thought it was a kid playing, but it was happening after midnight, and she eventually got annoyed. Each time she got up to check and see if this little kid was out there, the noise would stop just as she got to the door. She opened the door a couple of times, but there was nobody in the hallway - and this was a looooong hallway; it ran the length of the building. So finally, she decides to wait it out and use the fisheye-mobile-peephole to catch the kid in the act.
She stands there and waits, and waits some more. Finally, no footsteps but she hears the placard start spinning. She thought the kid had hidden in the elevator. She's already got the peephole pointed down, so all she does is put her eye up to it to look and see whose kid has been messing with our door all night.
Nobody there. Placard spinning around on its own, like it's being twirled on the doorknob. Still not sure how my mom managed not to pee herself and sleep the rest of our stay in that fucking hotel."
(once again i got this from the same site as the first one, i'm not taking credit)