No Vacancy by Cecilia Kennedy

When the elevator doors slam open with a jarring jolt, you wonder if you should step inside, all alone. But then, you hear soft music and smell a perfume of roses and decide there’s nothing to fear. You push the button for the lower level, but you’re propelled up, up, up instead, and the music cuts out—and your heart beats faster. Whispers materialize in voices at different registers—but only between the floors you pass. And as you strain to listen, you realize those voices aren’t coming from the living of this era. Their speech is peppered with phrases like “the bee’s knees” and the “real McCoy.” Something cold like a bony hand runs the length of your spine, sending shivers, before the elevator plunges back down—but not to the lower level. Instead, it reaches an unmarked floor, the doors opening to an ornate room filled with lamps—and the lights are all on, dazzling and disorienting. You swear you see shadows wearing cocktail dresses and suits. They shift between the rays of light, and you want to step out, but something holds you back. It’s not your time, not your floor, so the elevator resumes its journey, and the music starts up again. You travel back down to the lower level, where you’ll exit and tell everyone you know about the voices and the room with the lamps at the Raden Hotel, so there will always be visitors—curiosities to entertain the guests who’ll never check out.