The Room wih no windows

From the desk of Ana W. Black

Have you ever walked into a room and forgotten why you came?

What if the room forgot too?

In The Last Page, there is a story buried near the centre—one that many overlook until it’s far too late. “The Room With No Windows.” A quiet tale at first glance: a traveller, a warm inn, a room “perfect for writing.” But the fire dies quickly. The curtains stop moving. And the door? It never existed.

I wrote this story in the dead of night, during a storm where even my reflection seemed uncertain. It came to me whole—like something I was remembering, not inventing. The wallpaper peeling like skin. The static in the mirror. The word etched into the floorboards again and again:  STAY.

You might wonder: What kind of inn assigns that room?

Here’s a darker question:

What if the inn isn’t assigning it? What if it’s choosing its guest?

And what if you were the one being chosen?

Have you read The Last Page yet? ... If not, the room is still empty. For now.