Fiction: Group 2
Hotel Central Macao
St. Paul's Co-educational College Primary School, Chu, Rachel Lorelle - 11, Fiction:
Group 2
y name is Bethany. A few months ago, my friend Mia and I went to Macau, and life has been
different since.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Macau was as beautiful as the pictures we’ve seen online. It was sunset when we arrived at the small city
located in the Pearl River Delta. The sky was painted with magnificent colours. Mia and I got on a black
taxi and headed for our hotel, Hotel Central Macao.
The hotel was old-fashioned. It was easy to spot because it was towering over the other buildings in the
old street. It was teal in colour and there was a red sign hovering above the roof.
After checking in, an attendant picked up our luggage and led us to our room. The room was tiny but
there was enough space for two people. There were two beds in the middle, a broken television in front of
the beds, a wooden desk, a bathroom, and that was all. The walls were peeled and the room was stuffy. It
was simple and worn-out, but we chose this hotel because it was the cheapest we could find.
Mia and I had dinner at the nearby McDonalds. The food was not only delicious, but affordable.
That night, Mia fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillows. I lay awake. My eyelids started to droop
when I heard an eerie creak at the door. My eyes snapped open immediately.
A ghastly white hand shot through the mahogany door. I tried not to scream.
Then came a leg.
A head.
“Mia,” I whispered urgently. Mia wouldn’t budge. “MIA!” I was close to shouting.
“What?!” I pointed towards the door. The figure was pale and transparent. She was a woman, about 30
years old, her eyes sunken and shaded. She walked around, leaving a trail of green smoke behind her. Her
cheongsam was torn and bloody. Her nails were caked with dried blood, and her brown hair was tangled.
Her lips were dry and cracked. But the worst of all—the centre of her body was burnt, burnt black like coal,
dark red blood splattered all around the wound. I shuddered.
The ghost locked eyes with me, and I froze; I was afraid she was going to murder me, but she just
looked surprised for a moment. Then her face was emotionless again, and she disappeared before I could
even go through what just happened.
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
The next few days were a blur. We went shopping, sightseeing, eating, and that was all we did. I didn’t
even reply when Mia asked which dress she should buy. I was thinking about something else; how to
capture that ghost.
At night, the ghost arrived. I sneaked out of bed, and switched on the lights.
The room was filled with light at once.
Please make this work,
I prayed. The ghost collapsed onto the
ground soundlessly. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Mia sat up. “You caught the ghost!” she exclaimed.
The ghost groaned. She glared at me coldly, and I felt a shiver up my spine.
“What. Did. You. Do,” the ghost crossed her arms and fumed. Her voice was deep and strong.
“I did nothing. I have a few questions.
Who
are you?
Why
are you here?
What
are you?” I asked
impatiently.
“Isn’t it clear I’m a ghost?” the ghost stood up and sat on the desk. “My name’s Camille. I died. I was 28.”
Camille
, I thought to myself.
That sounds familiar.
“You look older,” I strode over to where Camille was sitting. Mia still looked afraid.
Camille scoffed. “I’m still young, thank you very much.” I backed away.
“If you want to know my backstory, sit down.” I did. “Okay. About a century ago, my husband took me
and my baby to this hotel. It was new in 1928, at least. We were sleeping when people started screaming. It
was insane—our section of the hotel was on fire. Flames crawled into our room. My husband shouted for
M
