"Who's there?"

I just called into the blackness of my hotel room. I don't think I've ever done that before when I've heard a sound in the night, but this time I wasn't anywhere near sleep, and it was distinct and coming from just a few feet away. There was a creaking sound near the door-- old floorboards giving underfoot-- then the swoosh of cloth rubbing cloth, from the far end of the other bed.

I turned the light on and looked in the direction of the noise and an empty room looked back. I looked around, propped up in bed, for several minutes, listening, feeling the fear creep around and change shape and texture, but never quite slide away. The vent by the door clicked on with a creak and a swooshing sound and I am nearly convinced that this is all I heard.