Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - I Took a Job at a Century-Old Hotel With a Strict List of Rules | Part 2

Episode Date: July 31, 2026

On his first night working alone at a historic hotel, Trevor is handed a list of bizarre rules he assumes are nothing more than new-guy hazing. Then one mistake turns the quiet building into something impossible, and the guests begin changing in terrifying ways. By midnight, Trevor realizes the rules were never meant to protect the hotel—they were meant to keep something from getting out. Listen to over 100 exclusive bonus stories with a 7-day FREE TRIAL of Dr. NoSleep Premium: ⁠⁠⁠⁠patreon.com/drnosleep⁠⁠⁠ – Cancel anytime. No commitment. Huge thanks to our sponsors: BetterHelp: Sign up now and get 10% off at⁠ ⁠⁠⁠betterhelp.com/dns⁠⁠. Shopify: You don’t need anyone’s approval to make a living. Build your own business with a free trial at ⁠shopify.com/dns⁠ Author:  Matt Doggett * * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 18. Listener discretion is advised.  #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #creepypasta #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Nicely. Davila rushed through the front doors, eyes darting around as if searching for threats. Her nostrils flared as she smelled something that didn't agree with her. What's wrong? She asked, walking toward the desk. I've been trying to call you back for the last 20 minutes. The lobby was empty, everything in its place. I smiled as Davila approached.

Sorry, I dropped my phone. It broke. I called the desk phone too, she said, coming around and yanking the receiver up, holding to her ear to check the dial tone. I shrugged. That's odd. I didn't hear it. I've been here the whole time. What's that smell? Dabula asked. Smells like overcooked barbecue. Two people appeared from a first floor hallway, fighting against their luggage as they walked with purpose toward the desk. It was the nice old couple I'd checked in around 10, Mr. and Mrs. Blanche. We're checking out, the man exclaimed. I'm sorry to hear that, Dabula said.

slipping into her managerial role despite wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. Is something wrong? The bed is uncomfortable. The man grumbled, setting his bag down with a thump as the two reached the desk. The air conditioner is noisy. The people upstairs won't shut up. The TV doesn't work. A better question to ask is, what is it wrong?

The woman said with a huff. Something about the woman bothered me. Flashes of frightening memories flared in the recesses of my mind. but not only those. Something about her demeanor reminded me of someone. I'm so sorry to hear that, I said. I'll get you checked out and issue a refund. Wait a second.

I'm sure we can fix this, Davila said. How about an upgrade? I think Mr. and Mrs. Blanche just want to check out, I said. No, it wasn't me. I didn't say it, although whatever was inside me was trying very hard to convince me that it and I were one in the the same. I'd been a passenger in my own body without even knowing it, but now, as I realized who the woman reminded me of, it all came flooding back. Grandma? I shrieked in my mind,

realizing I'd been clinging to some part of her, some memory or maybe even a spiritual residue left after her passing. Claws, sharp as sides, and made of darkness, plunged into my essence and ripped me from my mind. I fought against them, thrashing, trying to regain some little control so I could warn Davila. Don't let them check out! I tried to scream. Knowing that allowing anyone to check out of the hotel right now would be disastrous for our small town,

even if I didn't understand why. I managed to grab onto some dim internal ledge, looking out of my eyes as if through the wrong end of a telescope. My fingers clung as the claws tried to rip me away. Faintly, I could still hear Davila trying to convince the old couple to stay. Looking down the long tunnel, I realized I could see the couple's true faces again. Bits of bloody flesh hung from the woman's shredded cheeks.

The man's face was locked in a two-wide grin. Both pairs of eyes pulsed with swirling clouds of red and black. Whatever spell that was still cast on Davila no longer had any effect on me. Why? Because it's getting weaker. My sweet, tough grandma whispered in my ear. For a moment, I was sure I could smell her. a mixture of white linen perfume and winter green mouthwash.

I'm sorry, I said to her. My fingers losing their grip on whatever psychic irregularity I had managed to cling on to. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I should have been there for you. I should have visited more. I'm sorry. My grandmother raised me from the time I was three years old. According to my estranged mother,

my dad had disappeared immediately following conception. For her part, My mom thought having a kid would help her get sober. She was an addict and an alcoholic, although she managed to stay clean throughout the pregnancy. It took her three years of repeatedly falling off the wagon to realize she didn't like sobriety, or being a mother. She handed me off to my grandmother, who was all too happy to have me. Her husband, my mom's dad, had died of a heart attack in his early 50s.

Grandma never remarried. Not long after grandma became my legal guardian. My mom ended up in prison after stabbing a woman's eye out of her a $10 bag of meth. I saw her as an adult only once, at my grandma's insistence, when she got out of prison on parole. I didn't much care about the woman, and she didn't much care about me. I saw my mom again at my grandma's funeral, and she looked much better than the last time I'd seen her. Older, but not so strung out. She seemed to have gotten her shit together, but she was still more than a stranger to me.

When she tried to comfort me like an actual mom would, I jerked away, telling her to leave me the hell alone. I had been raised by only one person, and in the end, I'd treated that person like dirt. Up until a year before her death, I had visited my grandmother once a week without fail. But shortly after I turned 21, I stopped visiting so much, because I started drinking and frequenting bars while trying to get laid. I was taking for granted the time she had left and generally being a selfish asshole. When I went to her house and found her dead, I hadn't visited in well over a month. We had talked on the phone the week before she died. She asked me to come visit.

I said I would, but I never did. Not until it was too late. By then, she had been dead for six days. I'm sorry, Grandma. It's okay, she whispered. My fingers dug deeper and stopped slipping as her smell brought about a wave of comfort. I know you loved me. I know you still do. At the distant end of the tunnel, which didn't seem so far anymore, the man who'd thrown

himself into the fireplace came walking to the desk, also carrying his luggage. Judging by Davila's reaction, she couldn't see that he was a walking burn victim. Where his skin wasn't blackened and smoldering, it had sloughed off to reveal exposed muscle or bone. His lips and eyelids were little more than charred ridges. His eyes were like runny egg whites dripping from their sockets. As the man stopped behind the old couple, who were growing more upset with each moment, I wondered where the two giant commercial actors had gone, and whether Carla was still alive. More guilt racked me, and my fingers started to slip again. The claws digging into me redoubled their efforts to pull me into the abyss, where I knew I wouldn't

be able to observe the outside world any longer. Okay, I'll issue you a refund, Davila said, finally relenting. No! I screamed, but my mouth stayed shut, no noise escaping. The front doors opened, and Carla stepped into the hotel. The thing controlling my body directed my gaze to her, eyes widening. A tremor ran through whatever plane I was trapped in as the force controlling me reacted to Carla's sudden presence. At first, First, I didn't understand. It was the look on her face that did it.

Carla stopped short just inside the doors, gaze frozen to the three people gathered in front of the desk. Her face paled, brown skin losing some of its luster as her mouth dropped open and released a frightened noise somewhere between a gasp and a scream. She could see them. The force was too weak to trick both her and Davila. The realization hit me then. Carla hadn't been taken hostage earlier.

been a trick to lure me back into the hotel so I could check the guests out, letting them out of their prison. Padavula had arrived, unknowingly throwing a wrench into the works, and now Carla. The sudden epiphany that I wasn't responsible for Carla's capture zapped the guilt away. Hope flared bright in its sudden absence. Now, Grandma whispered in my ear. With newfound strength, I jerked myself away from those dark, sharp claws and propelled my essence back upward, fighting with everything I had to shatter the spell.

As I fought to regain control of my body, all hell broke loose. Davila screamed and threw herself away from the three people at the desk, finally seeing them as they truly were. The burned man darted toward the doors, taking hold of Carla before she could run out of the hotel. I expelled my rotting knot grandmother in a torrent of putrescent flesh that spewed from my mouth and nose. It felt at once relieving and revolting as the liquefied

flesh came out and splattered onto the carpet, dissipating as if it had never been there at all. But I knew she wasn't gone, not for good. Gasping, I came back to myself, leaning against the wall. The dead woman, Mrs. Blanche, lurched at Davila, while her husband clambered over the desk toward me, knocking the bell aside with a ding. Davila and I had the same idea, turning toward the back room. But before we could reach it, the door opened and the two giant TV actors crowded the doorway. They were still rotting away, their eyes swirling red and black like the others. This way! Davila screamed, grabbing my arm and yanking me toward the stairs. Mrs. Blanche grabbed hold of my other arm, sharp fingers piercing my skin. I yanked the appendage away,

gasping as the fingers ripped four deep gouges in my forearm. A muffled scream came from Carla. The burned man had her around the neck with one gruesome arm, his other hand over her mouth. I slowed, knowing I had to help her, but Davila pulled me along. As we ran to the second floor, Davila said, Please tell me you have a skeleton key on you. A few years ago, we decided to launch No Sleep Coffee. We already had the audience and the concept, but we needed an easy way for people to purchase our products.

That's why we went with Shopify. What surprised me the most was how straightforward it was to create the storefront and list our items. We got our coffee online in no time and could focus on what we love, dropping new blends, expanding the brand, and engaging with our customers.

And when a customer is ready to buy, the checkout process makes all the difference. Shopify's checkout is super seamless, and returning buyers can have their details saved for quick and effortless repeat orders. For us, that translated to spending less time stressing over the site, and more time growing the business

and connecting with even more customers. With Shopify, nothing stands between your idea and a real business. So go make it. one. Start your free trial at Shopify.com slash DNS. Start your free trial at Shopify.com slash DNS. If you're into horror with a heavy dose of sci-fi, classified experiments, and things humanity was never meant to understand, check out my other podcast, the SCP experience. Each episode pulls you into the hidden world of the SCP Foundation, where dangerous anomalies are studied,

contained and sometimes unleashed. These aren't just scary stories. They're classified nightmares. Click here to listen now or search for the SCP experience wherever you get your podcasts. I dug it out of my pocket and handed it to her.

The two giant actors chased us to room 217, where we stopped so Davila could unlock the door. I watched the two large entities closing in. Both of them hunched to fit in the hallway. Hurry! I said. Davila got the door open just to. time, pulling me in and slamming it. The two entities banged on the door, shrieking and waiting in

frustration. They can't get in, Davila said, gasping. What about Carla? I said, also catching my breath. Davila turned on the lights and moved to the dresser on which a flat screen TV sat. She opened the top drawer to reveal an array of items that only increased my confusion. What the hell is going on? I asked, staring at the items. You broke one of the rules, she said, selecting one of several cylindrical packages of salt from the drawer. I knew I shouldn't have trusted. You could have told me what would happen if I broke one.

Would you have believed me? I said nothing. She had a point. Besides, she continued. It doesn't matter. I've never seen it like this before. This is insane. But no matter what we do, we can't check them out.

Do you understand me? I nodded. What about Carla? What if they force her to check them out? Carla is housekeeping. She can't check guests out. Not these guests anyway. Take this. Davila shoved a bouquet of dried rosemary into my hand. I think they'll probably make an exception this time. I said, taking the bouquet. No, she can't. There are rules about this stuff. I thought you would have figured that out by now. They need one of us to check them out, so they'll use Carla as leverage.

She paused. The banging and shrieking from the door had just stopped. But other people were shouting, banging on their doors all along the hall. The other guests, Davila said. They must be trapped in their rooms. That's good. Why is that good? Because it means the spirits are too weak to use them against us.

They're stretched to their limits already. I shook my head. What the hell is this place? Not important. Here, take this too. She gave me an ornate hand mirror. What's important is. that we contain them once again.

What about the people? The Blanche's and Mr. Morrow. Will they go back to normal? Davila met my eyes and shook her head once. My legs weakened. I barely made it to the bed before collapsing. I killed them. All because I answered a phone call from the wrong room.

Dabula sighed. Listen, normally all that would happen? If you broke that rule would be relatively harmless. Maybe a guest or two would have seen something not so pleasant in their rooms. Something else is going on. I don't understand it. This isn't all on you. I should have known better. I should have stayed. But we need to fix this before anyone else gets hurt, okay? I stared at the carpet, sick with guilt. Okay? I swallowed loudly. Yeah. Good. We need to get to the basement, which means making a run for it. They're going to do whatever they can to stop us,

but throw salt on them. That should keep them off our backs until we can get downstairs to kitchen. When we get down there, we'll... Davila went on to explain what we would have to do in the basement to contain the spirits. It sounded ridiculous to me. Then again, so had the rules. I shoved the rosemary into one pocket and got a package of salt from the drawer. In my left hand, I held the mirror up. Apparently, silver-backed mirrors also repelled spirits. We paused at the door and looked at each other. Davila nodded once and then looked at through the peephole. Satisfied, she disengaged the dead vault and yanked the door open. The twisted version of my grandmother stood in front of the door, her body facing away from us,

but her head twisted around on a grotesquely broken neck. Before either of us could react, her bloody, grinning mouth opened and her tongue shot out. Only it wasn't a regular tongue. As it zipped toward Davila, it turned from a modeled, moldy muscle into a black chain with a metal arrowhead at the tip. The arrow impacted Davila in the middle of her face, obliterating her nose and everything behind it in a spray of gore. Once out the back of her skull, the arrowhead expanded, its wings locking out a moment before Grandma yanked the chain back into her mouth. The arrow's wings caught on the back of Davila's skull and yanked her toward not grandma, whose mouth expanded to accept Davila's head. Her now oversized teeth chomped

down on Davila's neck, severing her head with a crunch. Before my boss's body hit the floor, I was running, holding up the mirror in one hand and whipping the salt container in the other. Grandma seemed to hiss even as she chewed on Davyless skull like it was an ice cube. As I darted down the hall, doors on both sides flew open. Hotel guests creaned from inside the rooms to attack me, crazed grimaces on their faces, eyes swirling with black and red clouds. Propeled by sheer terror, I ducked and dodged and threw salt, which didn't seem to do much of anything. One guest lurched for me, grabbing my leg. I smacked his arm with the edge of the mirror, which caused him to let go but cracked the glass.

As another guest smashed me against the wall, I dropped the salt and punched her in the temple. She fell away. I sprinted down the stairs, cracked mirror in my hand, rosemary in my pocket, Davila's directions running through my mind. Carla stood behind the front desk, still held captive by Mr. Morrow. Her eyes pleaded with me as I turned, heading for the kitchen. but I let my gaze linger on her too long. I didn't see Mr. and Mrs. Blanche hiding nearby. They scuttled out from behind a couch like a couple of spiders

and launched themselves at me. Reacting instinctively, I lurched away and swung the mirror at the same time. The item smashed into Mr. Blanche's head. He shrieked and fell away, but Mrs. Blanche grabbed hold of my shirt at the collar. Her sharp black nails gouged grooves in the side of my neck and my trapezius muscle. As I continued jerking away, now swinging the mirror at her, the shirt ripped and she lost her grip. The mirror missed, but I was free. I sprint toward the dining room and for the kitchen beyond, realizing Davila hadn't given me a tour of the basement.

I only now became aware of the hairpin in my pocket, which had been warm the entire time. Was that why my grandmother was here trying to help me? I thought so. If I hadn't been carrying the pin around me, I'd probably be dead already. I dashed through the dark dining room and into the kitchen. The basement door, which Davila had to be. mentioned in passing during my tour was in a wall beyond an alcove used to store non-perishable food items. Closing in, the alcove coming up on my right, I knew something was wrong. The shadows shifted as two giant figures moved out of the storage area to block my path. The plastic-looking TV actors. And between them, Grandma, her head facing forward again,

her grinning mouth back to regular size, although blood coated her chin, neck, and the collar of her nightgown. I stopped. The sound of all the others approaching from behind hastened the unbearable sense of the defeat that assailed me like a thousand arrows sinking into my flesh. Davila was wrong. I realized as the others closed in behind me. If the spirits had been weak before, they had somehow gained more strength. Looking over my shoulder, I saw dozens of them. All the guests in the hotel, Carla, still held by Mr. Morrow, stood among them. Please, she said. Just check them out. They just want to leave. I smelled wintergreen and white linen perfume. The pin in my pocket flared with pleasant warmth.

No, I said to Carla. I can't do it. Then I'll make you. I faced forward to see not Grandma standing in front of me, her decaying face inches from mine, rotten dumpster breath wafting in my face. There was no hint of wintergreen in that myasma. I'm so sorry, I said, dropping the mirror, which shattered on the floor. I wrapped one arm around her in a hug while digging into my pocket with my free hand. I should have never left you alone for so long. I had my head positioned beside hers, our ears pressed together. As her head morphed, shifting and crawling to once again shove itself into my mouth and nose, I pulled the hairpin out of my pocket.

A shriek rose from the crowd when they saw what I was doing. But before Not Grandma could do anything about it, I jammed the twin silver prongs into her back. They punctured the rotting flesh with ease. Not Grandma writhed and screamed, trying to pull away. Her head had become solid again and was no longer attempting to. to invade me. As I pulled the hairpin out only to plunge it back in, I saw a flicker of my grandmother standing behind this rotten, evil version of her. She cinched her ghostly hands around not grandma's neck, throttling her. I stabbed again and again, my grandmother's spirit

flickering in and out of my vision as she also fought the entity. Not grandma's nails dug into my back, inflicting torturous pain as she shredded my flesh. But the pain was nothing compared to the guilt I'd been living with since grandma's death. I clenched my teeth and kept stabbing, stabbing and stabbing. I was vaguely aware of the pained whales erupting from all around. The two giant TV actors shrank down to normal size halfway through my frenzied stabbing. Then they continued to shrink until they disappeared altogether. I'm sorry, I said, as I continued to stab not grandma in the back. Tears streamed down my face. As the whales from all around lost intensity. Her attack also faded until her hands fell away from my back. The ghostly apparition

of my grandmother let go of her doppelganger's throat and stepped beside me. It's over, she said. It's okay. I let go of not, Grandma. Her body fell but disappeared before hitting the floor. Looking behind me, I saw Carla and the hotel guests arrayed around the dark kitchen. Those who had been possessed were alive, but bewildered. Carla was doing her best to comfort them. Mr. Morro's charred corpse lay unmoving on the floor, same with the bodies belonging to Mr. and Mrs. Blanche. Relief and exhaustion overtaking me. I dropped to my knees, still clutching the hairpin in my hand. I wasn't about to let go of it. My grandmother's spirit crouched beside me. She looked just as she had the last time I'd seen her alive.

I love you, Trevor, she said to me. I relished the smell of winter green mouthwash and white linen perfume. I love you too, Grandma. I know you do. You were always good to me. You have nothing to feel guilty about, but I need you to promise me one thing. I nodded, feeling lightheaded from blood loss. She leaned in closer and told me what she wanted. Okay, I said when she was done. I promise. My grandmother hugged me. I hugged her back. And then she was gone. If you're into horror with a heavy dose of sci-fi, classified experiments, and things humanity was never meant to understand, check out my other podcast, The SCP Experience. Each episode pulls you into the hidden world of the SCP Foundation, where dangerous anomalies are studied, contained, and sometimes unleashed. These aren't just scary stories. They're classified nightmares. Click here to listen now or search for the SCP experience wherever you get your podcasts. I eased out of my car, wincing as the skin on my back stretched with the movement.

I hoped the stitches were holding. Sunlight reflected off the modest homes windows. A sprinkler worked to water the postage-stamped lawn. It was a well-kept bungalow in a decent neighborhood. Flowers grew from pots along the porch railing. Ferns hung from hooks under the awning. As I started up the walkway, I thought about the detectives telling me not to leave town. there were still more questions than answers about the incident at the hotel.

Shortly after my grandmother hugged me and then disappeared, Carla ran down into the basement and performed the ritual Davila had described to me, just in case my dispatching of nut grandma hadn't done the trick. While she was gone, I passed out. I only talked to her later when she visited me in the hospital. We discussed everything. I apologized profusely. But Carla said it wasn't my fault.

No one could have known something like that would happen, she said. Still, I felt horrible. If I had only followed the rules, Carla said she had already talked to the cops. She had told the truth and suggested I'd do the same. I couldn't see any way around it. There was no way to pin the blame on any human. The media was already swarming our little town. It was a circus. But I had slipped away from the reporters so I could fulfill the promise I'd made to grandma. Walking onto the porch, I steadied my nerves and pushed back a lifetime of hard feelings. Then I knocked on the door. Moments later, it opened. I managed to smile. Hey mom. Thanks for tuning in. If you enjoyed the story, be sure to follow or subscribe and share the show with a fellow

horror fan. I'll see you in the next one.