I step out of the car, and walk a little unsteady as I cross the street. 10,430 feet above sea level tends to have a tipsy effect on me. Entering the Delaware Hotel sobers me upright though, as I’m drawn into the front lobby that is stuffed with vintage artifacts.
Heads of moose and deer, strange dolls with dead eyes, the creepiest Santa Claus I’ve ever seen.
Welcome to the haunted Delaware.
I settle into my small room, unpack, and pull the chain on the lamp so I can read about the history of this place.
The lamp starts to flicker, then abruptly turns off. I fumble in the dark to find the chain to turn the lamp back.
I continue reading, and come to the story of the Coffey’s, a couple that lived in the Delaware Hotel back in 1899 (known as the Delaware Block back then). Their rocky marriage ended when Jerry shot Mary twice in the back.
She was paralyzed from the waist down, dying three days later. Her ghost has been seen several times over the years, reported as a “lady in white, visible only from the waist up….”
She is believed to have been shot in room 107. I look down at my room key and see the inscription “107” for a brief moment before the light flickers on and off again before going dark.

I pull the bed covers up tight around my neck, and prepare for a long night.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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