Hotel Seagull loomed over Kochi's tranquil backwaters, its faded charm barely masking the whispers of tormented souls that lingered like the thick humidity in the air. Guests spoke of cold drafts that slithered around their ankles at night and the chilling sensation of unseen eyes tracking their every move, accompanied by inexplicable echoes of laughter and cries that danced in the shadows. In these haunted halls, where the past clung like a shroud, many checked out but never truly left, their restless spirits forever entwined with the heavy silence of the hotel's decaying walls.

The Avenue Regent stands like a sentinel draped in shadows, its once-grand facade whispering the secrets of countless souls that have tread its haunted halls. Guests often find themselves ensnared in a web of flickering lights and murky echoes, where laughter from long-forgotten revelries mingles with a sinister stirring in the darkness. As night cloaks the corridors, a chilling sense of being watched creeps over visitors, leaving them to wonder if the hotels walls hold more than mere memories-perhaps, they are home to something far more malevolent.

In the shadowy corridors of Brunton Boatyard, whispers of the past linger like a thick fog, curling around the wooden beams that creak under the weight of history. Each footstep echoes ominously against the aged floorboards, as if the very walls yearn to confide their secrets to those brave enough to listen. Yet, in the stillness of the night, guests have felt an icy breath on their necks, a chilling reminder that they are not alone-never alone-in this vessel of forgotten souls who wander restlessly amidst the slumbering dreams of the living.

The Fort House Hotel looms over the waterfront with an unsettling calm, its faded walls whispering secrets of the past as the tides lap hungrily at its edge. At night, the air thickens with the disembodied laughter of unseen children and the murmurs of voices that echo through the corridors, flickering like candlelight in the shadows, compelling restless guests to linger too long by the water's edge, where the moonlight reveals more than just reflected faces. Those who come to rest often leave with the sense that the echoes of joy and despair are intertwined, a reminder that in this place, the past is never truly buried, but rather waits patiently for the next listener.