Hoped for Haunting
HOPED FOR HAUNTING – August 7, 2025 – Nashville, Tennessee, USA
Even from a distance, Abraham Zaxby recognized that the Union Station Hotel was different. He walked into the immense lobby and gawked skyward toward the crystal chandeliers and curved glass ceiling. A century earlier, the building was the city’s central rail terminal and passengers had waited for trains where Abraham now stood. He could almost hear echoes from the past as he stared at the gleaming and perfectly modernized floors, furniture, and decorative wood paneling.
“Wow. This place is really something,” Abraham whispered to his wife. “You keep looking around the lobby. I’ll go check us in so we can see our room.”
He walked toward the reception desk, behind which three employees stood ready to greet customers. He chose to speak with a young woman positioned closest to a luggage cart. She had dark pixie hair, gleaming teeth, and a mermaid tattoo on her forearm.
“I have a reservation. For Zaxby.”
The woman looked up from her computer and sized up Abraham. He was in his forties or maybe fifties and dressed semi-formally in khaki slacks and a crisp white shirt. He pushed nervously at the bridge of his glasses with his index finger.
“Zaxby. Okay, let me check. I’m assuming that’s spelled with a Z and an X.”
“I called and arranged for room 711.” Abraham paused and waited for the receptionist to react. Surely, she knew about the room’s reputation.
“Right. I’ve got you here for two nights. Room 711.” The young woman grinned ever so slightly to show she recognized the number. “Are you here in Nashville for a special occasion?”
“My anniversary. We’ve never been here before but heard lots about it. Figured we’d finally check it out.”
“I’m glad you chose the Union Station. Any particular reason you chose Room 711?”
“When I was searching for places to visit, it popped up. I guess you know all about Abigail.”
The young woman smiled more broadly. “Oh yes. That’s a very popular room. Pretty hard to book. Everyone wants to see a ghost.”
“Is it true, what they say? Have you seen her?”
Abraham leaned closer as the receptionist answered in a more hushed voice. “Not me, but I know people who swear they have.”
“And people lose stuff in the room?”
“And they say the lights flicker and the temperature changes. Maybe they hear voices. Unexplainable things.”
“Yeah, that’s what I read.”
“You’re not spooked?”
“Mostly curious. Hard to say why. For some reason, I can’t get the story out of my head.”
“Guests in 711 either want to see something or prove it’s all a hoax.”
“I’m going in open-minded. My wife is more of a skeptic. She keeps me on the straight and narrow.”
The young woman with the mermaid tattoo passed Abraham his room key, wished him a nice stay, and pointed him toward the elevator. He was in no hurry to leave the lobby. After a bit more exploration, he and his wife stood alone in the elevator on their way to the top floor.
“The girl who checked me in knows lots of people who have seen Abigail.”
“People see what they want to see. Which means you’ll be reporting Abigail sightings for the next two days.”
“I’m going in with an open mind. I want to give it a chance. I can’t wait to see what the room is like.”
When they got to the room, Abraham was impressed by its size and said, “It’s like a studio apartment.” A bed sat on one side of the room. On the other, close to a large bay window, a couch and two high-backed chairs were arranged around a wall mounted TV. Abraham immediately walked to the window. At knee-height, a sitting bench covered in cushions was built into the wall. A person could stretch out and even recline in the window sill as they looked down at the city below.
“This is where Abigail sits and watches the tracks for her fiancé who never came back from the war.” Abraham spotted the railroad tracks on the ground and tried to imagine the days when they were busy with passenger trains. “They say that’s where she killed herself.”
The more he focused on the tracks, the more Abraham felt transported. He could almost hear the steam and smell the smoke from the engines. He felt the heartbreaking goodbyes as loved ones left the station with hopes to return in months or even years. The strange connection to the scene was magnetic. He lost track of time. The next thing he knew, his wife’s voice was saying, “Come away from the window and unpack your things.”
Shaking off his trance, Abraham unzipped his suitcase and hung his slacks and shirts in the room’s closet. He walked his toiletries case into the bathroom and flipped it open. He instantly noticed something important was missing.
“My toothbrush is gone!”
He heard his wife’s voice outside the bathroom say, “You probably forgot to pack it.”
“No, I didn’t. I know I packed it and now it’s gone. You know, this is one of the signs of Abigail. She likes to take stuff.”
“Oh right. A ghost just couldn’t resist taking your toothbrush. You forget to pack things all the time. Don’t go blaming it on Abigail.”
“I didn’t forget this time. I lost my toothbrush on my last trip so I specifically made sure to put it in my case.”
Abraham dug through every pocket of his luggage looking for the toothbrush and concluded it was definitely gone. His wife assured him they could buy another one while they were walking around the downtown area looking for a place to eat dinner. After some fussing about what to wear and more time staring out the window, they left the hotel and walked a few blocks toward a lively street filled with bars and restaurants.
Abraham had read about the Nashville party scene, but he was surprised by the noise and crowds. Multiple bachelorette parties rolled by in stretch limousines or on flatbed trucks that looked like parade floats. “Let’s find a place where we can hear ourselves think,” he said to his wife.
They landed in a steakhouse and asked for a table as far from the street noise as possible. “I wasn’t expecting something this rowdy for our anniversary,” Abraham said aloud.
On the way back to the hotel, they made a diversion into a drugstore where Abraham bought a new toothbrush. He put it in his shirt pocket and said, “I’ll keep this one close to me so Abigail doesn’t get it.”
“Whatever you say. But I hope you’re not taking this Abigail stuff too seriously.”
Abraham smirked in response. When they returned to the hotel and exited the elevator on their floor, the hallway light above their room flickered.
“That’s her! It’s another sign.”
“Lights do that all the time. I’ll need to see something more convincing.”
Inside the room, Abraham was immediately drawn to the window. While he stared down at the tracks, he felt so chilled that he walked over to check the thermostat.
“There’s definitely something weird going on with the temperature. This says 72 degrees, but I’m freezing.”
“I feel fine. You were probably under a vent.”
He did not say it out loud, but Abraham clearly remembered that temperature fluctuations were another signal from Abigail. That night, as he laid in bed, he could not get comfortable. One minute he felt too hot and kicked off the covers. The next minute he was shivering.
“I can’t sleep,” he whispered to his wife. “The temperature is all over the place.”
“Abigail again? You’ve had insomnia way before you ever heard about Abigail. Try your counting backwards trick.”
When morning light finally streamed through the room’s enormous window, Abraham looked over and saw something glowing. The figure was translucent and moved gently and quietly. He watched in awe for a full minute before stirring his wife.
“I definitely see something by the window. I know it’s her. She’s glowing.”
“Do you have your glasses on?”
“No.”
“Tell me what you see with your glasses.”
Abraham reached for his glasses that were sitting on the bedside table. The glow changed and he now saw the wispy fluttering of a white curtain. It had become detached from the Velcro strap holding it in place and danced on the breeze from the overhead air-conditioning vent.
Abraham kept to himself that he thought the glowing figure was different from the curtain. He gradually got out of bed and got ready for the day, which was to include breakfast in the hotel lobby. As he prepared to put on his shoes, he could not find his socks.
“They’re gone. I’ve looked everywhere.”
“First your toothbrush, now your socks. You’ll just have to wear the pair you had on yesterday.”
“Those are gone too. I’m telling you, all the socks I brought are gone and I know I had on a pair yesterday.”
“That’s crazy. Look again.”
“I’ve looked everywhere they could possibly be.”
“Maybe you dropped them outside the room. Maybe you sleepwalked with them.”
“Now you’re sounding crazy. Abigail taking socks makes more sense than sleepwalking.”
They spent the day buying socks, exploring more of Nashville, and debating over Abigail. Abraham felt the same pull toward room 711’s window and sat contentedly in the sunshine staring at the railroad tracks. The next morning, he took his room key to the reception desk to check out. The young woman with the mermaid tattoo was there to greet him.
“How was your stay?”
Abraham leaned over and whispered, “I’m pretty sure I saw her. I definitely felt something. I lost my socks and my toothbrush and I swear I had them with me when I arrived. Of course, my wife thinks I’m cuckoo. She thinks she has a rational explanation for all of it.”
The receptionist smiled like they were sharing a secret. “How did you like the rest of Nashville?”
“Lots to see. Very busy. Maybe a little too busy for us.”
She was not in the habit of asking personal questions, but for some reason the young woman behind the desk grew curious about the sadly sweet man standing in front of her. “Where is your wife? Is she here in the lobby?”
Abraham grew flustered and almost embarrassed. “You’ll have to forgive me. When I talk about my wife, it can be a little strange. She passed almost two years ago. I was in such a habit of being with her, I talk to her like she’s still here. It’s hard to let go.”
“I’m very sorry. I’m sure it’s hard.”
Abraham and the mermaid tattoo girl said their goodbyes. He walked out of the hotel and took one last long look at the tracks. He peered up at the 711 window and felt a final flicker of connection with Abigail. He never did find his missing toothbrush or socks.
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