Ellsworth and the Haunting of Room 319

The Haunting of Room 319 - Chapter Three

Chapter Three
Ellsworth Rehab Center
9:50 p.m.

Chelsea stepped out of her SUV just before ten, clutching her pink Stanley thermos like a bottle of holy water. Her eyes darted to the back of the building and caught sight of room 319's window. A bit of nausea hit the back of her tongue, and she tasted salt. The wind had picked up since last night, whispering through the creepy wheat field. She could smell water in the air and knew another round of storms was on the horizon.

Inside, the halls smelled like pine disinfectant and microwaved ramen noodles. Clarence barely looked up from the nurse's desk. His fingers tapped on the keyboard, making clicking sounds.

“Welcome back, storm survivor,” he said. “No power surges tonight. Yet.”

Chelsea smiled and made her way down Hall 300 to the small table. The lights were steady this time. No flickering. No rogue call lights. After plugging up her laptop, Chelsea logged into her Netflix account to watch a horror documentary with Al. A few minutes later, he texted her.

Al: “No ghosts tonight?”

Chelsea: “Not yet, but the night is still young. I am thankful to have signed up for the night shift. We are allowed to watch movies as long as we complete rounds every two hours, and make sure the stock room is filled by the end of our shift.”

Al: “Different than your hospital job.”

Chelsea: “When Clarence told me yesterday that overnight workers are allowed to watch shows on their phones or laptops, I thought he was joking.”

Al: “Well, you did spend all of last night completing your mandatory Texas CNA work and chasing a rogue call light. If your boss says it’s ok to watch a movie with me, then don’t stress about it.”

The two of them settled down to watch a true crime documentary about a man who accidentally kills his twin brother and takes over his identity. Chelsea felt the hair on her arms standing up, as a gush of cold air hit her body.

After the documentary ended, Chelsea stood up to complete her first round. She entered every room, woke up cranky patients, and asked them if they needed help to the restroom. At least they didn’t hit her like some of the dementia patients at her hospital job in Denver. Everything was going well until she heard the distinct sound of running water coming from the empty side of Hall 300. Chelsea was about to head in the direction when the call light in room 305 went off. Heading that way, Chelsea passed Clarence as he stepped out of the linen closet.

“Hey, can you check on the back of the hall?” she said. “I think I hear running water.”

Clarence paused, his face twisting in a frown. “I hear it too. My God, I hope a patient hasn’t wandered into the wrong room.”

Chelsea walked into room 305 and removed a soda from the mini fridge for a resident whom she had only minutes ago helped to the restroom. After turning the call light off, she met Clarence in the hallway. His pale face told her something was wrong.

“Was someone taking a shower?” She asked. Clarence responded with a shake of his head.

“Come with me, Chelsea.” He said, his voice unusually still and quiet.

She followed him down to room 319. The door was wide open, when it had been closed since her shift started at 10.

“I followed the sound of running water to this room,” Clarence said as he stepped into the room and flicked on the lights. Chelsea let out a cough as steam hit her face.

“What on Earth happened in here?” She asked as Clarence opened the restroom door.

“Well,” Clarence continued. “I opened this door, and there was a wheelchair pressed up against the door. I had to forcefully push it aside.”

Another coughing fit hit Chelsea as they walked into the restroom. What she saw took her breath away. Steam swirled through the air and settled on the mirror. Hot water was dripping off all four walls. Clarence turned to stare at her, a quizzical look on his usually calm face.

“I swear, it wasn’t me,” Chelsea gasped, as she took hold of the restroom doorknob. Her legs seemed to go weak. It felt like something was staring at her and Clarence. She needed to get out of the room before she fainted.

“I believe you, Chelsea,” Clarence said as the two of them left the room, firmly shutting the door behind them.

“You do?” She squeaked. “I did not turn that shower nozzle on.”

Clarence nodded his head. “I know you didn’t. The water in this room has been turned off for months. I should have told you this last night, but it didn’t matter. This room has been a problem since the facility opened. The workers accidentally built it over an old farm well, and the floor has been slowly collapsing ever since. We had to shut the water off until construction workers could repair the damage.”

Chelsea nodded her head as realization hit her. She had felt the slope in the floor last night every time she entered the room to turn off the call light.

“Did the construction workers turn the water back on?” She asked. “They must be ready to repair the foundation.”

Clarence shook his head. “They have to block off this entire hall. The floor in room 319 has to be gutted and the foundation rebuilt. At the end of the year, a new facility will be built in the empty field across from this building. This entire rehab facility has to be torn down and rebuilt. It is too dangerous for anyone to be living or working here during construction.”

“I see,” Chelsea said. “How do you explain the running water?”

Clarence gave a short laugh. “There is no explanation because room 319 is haunted. That is why we can’t keep an agency worker. They keep quitting on us. That is why we offered such a large amount of money. Nobody ever stays the entire two weeks.”

“Wait, what!” Chelsea gasped as Clarence took his seat at the nurse’s station. A hissing sound crept down the hallway, and Chelsea turned to see a tall silhouette gliding down the hall and disappearing at the entrance to room 319.

***

Tuesday Afternoon
Ellsworth Family History Museum

The following day, Chelsea woke up from her melatonin-induced slumber. It was the only way she could have fallen asleep after Clarence’s confession. She learned that the mysterious room had scared off several agency CNAs. The last girl left after discovering the call light had been ripped from the wall. She found it lying perfectly still on the floor, the cord wrapped tightly in a circle. The worker grabbed her stuff, clocked out, and told Clarence that the administrator could keep his $3,500.

As Clarence confessed to knowing about the haunted room, Chelsea had secretly hit the record button on her phone. She sent the video to Al, who quickly responded.

Al: “Has this ghost ever physically harmed anyone?”

Chelsea: “Let me check with Clarence…He said ‘no.’”

Al: “Good. It is not a deity. Sounds like a poltergeist to me. Hey, didn’t you say the local history society has some information about an Andrew Ellsworth who disappeared in 1910?”

Chelsea: “Yeah, I saw it on the bottom of the TV at the motel.”

Al: “Tomorrow is your day off, right? Why don’t you visit the motel and send me pictures of everything you find on Andrew?”

After eating lunch in the motel dining room, Chelsea headed out to the Ellsworth Museum, which was a remodeled Victorian House on the outskirts of town. In the lobby, an elderly lady wearing a pioneer-type dress met her at the door.

“My name is Mrs. Crenshaw. We usually don’t receive too many young visitors.”

Chelsea took the woman’s gnarled hands and shook them.

“I’m looking for information on Andrew Ellsworth,” she said. “I noticed the advertisement on TV.”

“Ah, yes.” Mrs. Crenshaw nodded as she herded Chelsea to a display. “The town’s namesake. He was an incredibly generous man, always giving to the poor. That good-for-nothing brother of his, Thomas Ellsworth, lived on the property rent-free. After Andrew went missing, and the judge declared him legally dead, the brother sold the land and took off, never to be seen again.”

A frown settled on Chelsea’s face as she glanced over an old, early 1900s map of the town. “Do you think the brother had something to do with it?”

Mrs. Crenshaw shrugged her thin shoulders. “Law enforcement and Texas Rangers searched that land for months and came up empty-handed. There was no evidence that Thomas Ellsworth killed his brother.”

Chelsea nodded and then let out a little gasp as her eyes settled on the maps. Tacked on the wall next to the old map of Andrew Ellsworth’s farm was a current map of the area. It couldn’t be, could it?

“Dear,” Mrs. Crenshaw looked at her. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you alright?”

Chelsea nodded and pulled out her phone to snap a photo for Al.

“May I?” She asked.

“Of course,” Mrs. Crenshaw replied, as she stepped backward.

Chelsea positioned her phone so that both maps were in the photo. She wanted Al to see with his own eyes what she was seeing. The rehab facility had been built on Mr. Ellsworth’s old land. Not just that, but on the exact spot where the farmhouse once stood.

***

Later that Afternoon
Dayz to Nites Motel

Chelsea’s fingers trembled as she logged into her laptop and pulled up a local newspaper archive. There has to be something about Andrew and Thomas Ellsworth. She typed in Andrew’s name first, followed by the name of the town, and a date. An article surfaced almost immediately.

August 23, 1910 – Cotton Contest Spurs Family Rivalry in Ellsworth.

Chelsea’s eyes narrowed as her body shivered.

“Brothers Andrew and Thomas Ellsworth entered the First Harvest Contest this month, a challenge hosted by Farmers Bank. The first cotton harvest brought in would win $1,000. Andrew Ellsworth, known for his charity and involvement in church and local causes, planned to donate the winnings to build housing for the poor.

“Thomas Ellsworth, his younger brother and a known drinker, declared publicly that he would move to Denver and open a saloon if he won. The town was divided, and tensions between the two escalated as both claimed victory. To end the dispute, the bank president split the winnings. One week later, Andrew Ellsworth vanished.”

Chelsea clicked to the next article.

August 30, 1910 – Andrew Ellsworth Missing

September 1, 1911 – Judge Declares Andrew Legally Dead, Thomas Awarded Land Rights

September 14, 1911 – Thomas Ellsworth Sells Family Farm, Leaves for Colorado

September 21, 1911 – No further sightings of Thomas reported

She sat back, staring at the screen. A man disappears. A brother profits. A year later, he vanishes into thin air.
Chelsea opened FaceTime. Al answered instantly, his face half-lit by a bedside lamp. Salem curled at his feet.

Al: “Hey, sweetheart. You look like you saw a ghost.”

Chelsea: “I might have. Listen, I need your help.”

Al: “Always.”

Chelsea: “There’s a man named Thomas Ellsworth, Andrew’s brother. He moved to Denver around 1911. I think he might’ve changed his name. Can you go to the Historical Society tomorrow and see if you can find anything?”

Al: “This is getting too weird. I think you were meant to take this job. But, please, don’t let Andrew’s ghost scare you off.”

Chelsea: “I don’t plan on it. We’ve watched way too many mysteries. The two of us were born to solve this case.”

Al: “I’ll go after lunch. If this guy came to Denver and left a paper trail, I’ll find it.”

Chelsea: “Thanks, babe.”

As the screen went dark, Chelsea leaned back, laptop still glowing in front of her. Her eyes drifted to the corner of the room as the air conditioner clicked on. She didn’t see the condensation forming on the motel mirror or the faint outline of two yellow eyes watching her from behind the glass.