Ghost Stories at a Mexican Youth Hostel: I'm Here, But Who's Lying in Bed?

▲ Traveling alone always comes with its share of strange stories. (Photo / Illustration)

By / Travel Girl

This is a story I heard from a photographer friend who once lived in Central and South America for a while. With an androgynous appearance, she traveled alone across Central and South America for some time. The following is written in the first person.

That time, I was taking an overnight train from Guatemala to Chiapas, Mexico. Arriving at the backpackers' hostel in Chiapas was around 5 a.m. The temperature difference between day and night was huge, and as soon as I got off the train, I felt especially cold—probably due to the high altitude.

After wandering along the way, I eventually decided to stay at a backpackers' hostel that was a bit out of the way but had the cheapest price. The place had a homely feel—the floor was cement, there were bunk wooden beds, about eight beds per room, wooden lockers, and the room was mostly full. Only one bed was left, which I felt pretty lucky about.

When checking in, the receptionist said, "If you don't mind, we still have one more bed!"

At that moment, I felt a bit puzzled—I was traveling alone, so one bed made perfect sense, no problem at all—but I didn’t say anything and quickly agreed.

So the owner opened the door to the room and showed me to my bed. I put down my luggage and planned to go out to exchange some currency. After finishing my errands on the street and returning to the room, I saw that all the other guests who had been staying in the same room were packing up, leaving me completely alone.

The blonde girl who was leaving came over to greet me and said, “Sorry, we can’t stay with you. It’s your first day here, hope everything goes smoothly and safely for you.” Then the group of girls left with their luggage, and the room became empty.

I also planned to go out and explore the sights and run some errands. While wandering the streets, I unexpectedly ran into the same group of girls again. I thought they had already gone to another city, but it seemed they had just changed to a different accommodation. I felt a little odd, though I couldn’t quite pinpoint why.

That night when I returned to the room, it was completely empty. As soon as I opened the door, besides the beds on either side, there was a table in the middle with a Bible, religious icons, and things that looked like a shrine, similar to those in Taiwan. Looking back, I noticed a straw cross nailed above the wooden door. That night, I couldn’t stop overthinking, glancing around nervously, feeling increasingly creeped out. Add to that the cold temperature—I was under two blankets and still freezing, unable to sleep well. Around 5 a.m., half-asleep, I heard the voices of other travelers talking to the hostel owner outside the door, seemingly asking about available rooms. Half-dreaming, I heard the door open and close—someone must have come in to check the room before deciding whether to stay. Finally, I heard one traveler say she’d go out for a smoke and wait for her friends to arrive before deciding whether to stay here. (Let’s call her Miss A.)

Hearing that there might be other travelers coming to stay, I was overjoyed—I wouldn’t have to be alone anymore, which had felt super eerie. I immediately got up, went outside, and started chatting with her, trying to convince her to stay. We chatted for the length of a cigarette. It was freezing outside, and I was shivering, so I said, “It’s so cold, why don’t we go inside and continue chatting?”

Miss A immediately replied, “No, there’s someone still sleeping inside—let’s not disturb them.”
I immediately responded, “But the person sleeping inside was me!”
She matter-of-factly said, “No, there was someone else.”

I was suddenly chilled to the bone, feeling super creeped out. Scared, I made up an excuse and quickly left. I had already paid for four nights—what should I do? I could only pretend she had seen things and toughed it out for four nights. Each day, I wandered outside until late, trying to minimize the time I spent in the room. When I got back to my country and mentioned this strange incident to my friends B and C, they pointed out the oddities of the situation—which I hadn’t even noticed at the time.

When I checked in, the receptionist specifically emphasized that there was only one bed left. Could it be that she actually saw two guests at that time...?
Maybe during that time, I wasn’t traveling alone after all...