The Old Government House Hotel & Spa looms over St. Peter Port like a forgotten ghost of the 18th century, its weathered stone walls whispering secrets of the past. Shadows dance in the flickering candlelight as guests report the unsettling sound of footsteps echoing through the empty halls, a soft, persistent reminder that you're never truly alone, while doors groan open and closed against their own will, as if a phantom hand beckons from the dark. Many have fled the confines of their lavishly adorned rooms, hearts pounding, gripped by the unnerving sensation of unseen eyes trailing their every move-the hotel stands as a mastodon of forgotten histories, waiting patiently for its next tale of terror.

The Cobo Bay Hotel looms like a specter against the relentless churn of the tide, its peeling paint and creaking floorboards whispering tales of shipwrecks and weary souls lost to the depths. Guests can often be found frozen in a nightmarish reverie, their sleep shattered by the plaintive cries of the drowned, while ghostly figures materialize along the moonlit beach, their translucent forms drifting just out of reach. Those who dare to linger long enough find the walls echoing with the sorrowful lament of the past, reminding them that some guests never truly check out.

The La Fregate Hotel looms over St. Peter Port, its weathered facade whispering secrets of a bygone era, where the laughter of unseen guests echoes through the empty halls like a morbid lullaby. Shadows twist beneath flickering lights, and a woman in tattered, period garb glides past, her eyes pools of sorrow that seem to beckon with a chilling familiarity. In the silence of the night, the faintest murmur of voices can be heard-laughter and cries intertwining like a twisted dance, a sinister reminder that some stories are meant to linger, even after the living have long departed.