HALLOWEEN HAUNTS: Things That Go Bump in the Night by Paul Carro
Write what you know. We have all heard that before. It is a common saying in certain professions of ill repute. As horror authors, it can be difficult to possess first-hand knowledge relevant to our genre. The ins and outs of decapitation, shredding skin with a cheese grater, and gutting a camp full of teenagers are best left to those safely behind bars.
It can be difficult to translate one’s knowledge in any meaningful way to the topics that horror authors write about. Unless, like me, you know ghosts. I don’t mean regret, or the person you never text back, I mean actual spooky season ghosts.
Funny thing about ghosts though, they are not considerate enough to limit their presence to October of every year. I sometimes wonder if that lack of common decency was symptomatic of their personalities when they were alive and kicking. Or maybe those of us still above ground are the inconsiderate ones for disturbing them at any given time of year.
I said I know ghosts, and it is spooky season, so buckle up buttercups. To the believers and non-believers, in the spirit of the season, I want to share a true Hollywood horror story. This one takes place in the aughts. I was a fledgling screenwriter, making the rounds around town, loving my move to LA straight from King country in Maine.
I met a friend in college who we will call Sam. Sam and I reconnected in Los Angeles after college in Amherst. We became writing partners here in LA at a time when there were many pitch fests around town. One such pitch fest was taking place at the Roosevelt Hotel in Hollywood.
Though we were locals, the price was almost the same with a room as it was without, so we splurged and booked a room for the weekend. Two things to know. I had a couple of experiences in my younger years related to the supernatural, but I knew nothing about the Roosevelt’s history. And as for Sam, he was a teetotaling skeptic of the highest order. This comes into play as the events unfold.
For those not old enough to remember, back in the day basic PC laptops were pricey, in the range of Macs today. I had just splurged on a new laptop and was very protective of the device. When we checked into our room, I immediately looked out the window to check our view. It was an unspectacular view of the roof.
The building had a multi-tiered rooftop and our room faced out onto a section of roof that was only a foot below our window. Anyone on that roof would have easy access to the room if we left the window open. This too will come into play.
The first day of the festival went great, and we went out and explored Hollywood at night until very late. When we returned, we were ready for bed. The layout to this spooky tale is important. The entrance to the room opened into a long hallway that had the bathroom midway down the hall. The room itself was sizeable with two king beds. My bed was by the window while Sam’s was closer to the hallway. At the end of Sam’s bed was a dresser with a TV sitting on it. At the end of my bed was an elegant velvet cushioned chair facing the bed. The room had blackout curtains as well, which is important to note.
At 3 a.m. I awoke to the feeling of being watched. Because of the curtains and the hour, it was pitch black in the room, making it impossible to see anything. We had left the light on in the bathroom in case one of us had to use the restroom in the middle of the night. That left a slash of light across the middle of the hallway leading out of the room but it was far enough away that it did not bleed into the room itself.
We all know the feeling of being watched. This was different. I was sleeping on my back and I felt as if I was being watched from an inch away, as if someone was bent over the bed and had their face pressed almost to mine. It was too dark to see, but I sensed someone that close, almost on top of me.
It took me a moment, but suddenly my thoughts went to that roof outside and my laptop. I believed fully in that second that someone had broken in and taken my laptop. Just as I sensed someone leaning over to me, I suddenly sensed movement, like they were aware I was aware. I leaped out of bed and then saw a shadow darker than the night move toward the exit.
I gave chase, trying to get my laptop back. What I saw clearly was a shadow moving past the slash of light in the hallway. Someone had run past the bathroom for certain. I kept going until I ran into the door and noticed the chain was still locked from the inside!
I turned around. It meant they were in the bathroom. It was the only thing that made sense. Cautiously, I approached, stepped inside and yanked the curtain open like Anthony Perkins in Psycho. Nothing. Through it all, Sam remained blissfully asleep and it never occurred to me to wake him.
Creepy? Or just the overactive imagination of a horror author who had deep-seated worries about his laptop that he could not afford? Well, the story is not over folks. Here we go for round two.
The next day, Sam and I had a great time at the event and got a screenplay optioned and made some good connections. When the day was finally over and we had checked out of the room, we went to the bar before leaving. Sam did not drink, but I did at the time and wanted to have an old Hollywood bar experience before leaving. (We had explored Hollywood itself the whole weekend rather than exploring the hotel.)
It was there at the bar that I finally shared what had happened the night before. Sam then hit me with his own experience. Sam woke up somewhere around the same time and sensed someone in the room. He looked up and saw a blonde woman sitting in the chair at the end of my bed. She was looking at me as I slept. She eventually noticed him watching and then simply faded.
Sam assumed he was dreaming and went back to bed. He does not believe in ghosts even to this day. (We have not seen each other in decades, since he left LA, but we have talked about this night since, and he stands by what he saw.) Neither of us could explain why we did not wake the other, so we chalked it up to the influence of non-alcoholic spirits.
The bartender overheard our conversation and explained that the Roosevelt Hotel is haunted. Many say that Marilyn Monroe herself haunts the halls and a specific mirror located somewhere in the hotel. The woman at the foot of my bed was blonde… Who knows?
I have wanted to go back ever since but simply have not done it yet. I have stayed at the Queen Mary plenty and never had an encounter there. But what of the Roosevelt Hotel? If one night came with additional guests in my room, would another stay repeat? Maybe I will try it again one day, but if you stay there before me, please let me know if anyone sits at the foot of your bed staring at you.
I am Paul Carro, a horror author, and I write what I know. It just happens to be ghosts. Happy Halloween everyone!
Paul Carro is an HWA author and screenwriter based in Los Angeles, California. His debut horror novel The House was listed in Comic Book Resources top ten horror novels list. His has released several more novels since including Abject Fear, and The Salem Legacy.
His short stories have appeared in multiple anthologies including After the Burn, Horrors of the Deep: Startling Sea Stories, Dark Descent Magazine, Mixed Bag, The Horror Collection, and others. His short story Last Caller was top five finalist in the 2025 Ghosties horror fiction awards.
Paul is co-editor with Candace Nola on the upcoming anthology: Self (S)care, the Best Self-Published Horror of 2025 releasing in 2026. He is also a columnist for Memento Mori Ink Magazine.
If you wish to read about what he knows—ghosts—then check out In the Shadows Where the Boys Used to Play. This novella was written in the spirit of that one night in Hollywood.
In the Shadows Where the Boys Used to PLay available here.
You can also find Paul on almost all the socials at paulcarrohorror.