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When I was 20, I moved to Scotland to study for one year. I joined to any trip that the students organizations would arrange but I had always wanted to go to one particular city: Whitby. I asked my friends who would like to come with me and since nobody wanted, I decided to go on my own. It was my first trip alone so I was sort of nervous. I got onto a train to leave Scotland and get myself into England. There was a reason why I wanted to go to Whitby in that particular time of the year. It was Halloween and my uncle had told me some years ago that when he was living in the UK he got to experience a Halloween night in Whitby, which is so famous because in Bram Stoker’s Dracula, when he comes to England, he establishes himself in Whitby and the Abbey has a very important role in the book and I had the chance to stay in a Youth Hostel next to Whitby Abbey surrounded by “vampires”. Many people who are into the gothic aesthetic come to Whitby to celebrate the Halloween night and so my hostel was full of people dressed in these vampiric costumes. Walking through the streets was like being in a movie. I had to admit that I was feeling a little lonely though. In October, it would get dark at around 4:30 pm in the UK so at 6:00 pm or so the shops would close, something really odd to my Spanish habits. I remember myself reading in the common area of the hostel at around 8:00 pm and when it got later, only a guy and I remained there. He suddenly asked me what I was reading. I remember I was reading something related to Uni so I told him and he started talking to me. He was really nice and friendly and we talked for more than two hours about books, literature, philosophy and what we were doing there. I told him that I was studying at Glasgow and that I had always wanted to be in Whitby for Halloween and he told me that he was a traveller. He said he was from Australia but he had been traveling around the world for some time now, he did not specify how much and when giving details about himself, he would show somehow uncomfortable and elusive. We had talked so much but I didn’t know his name. I asked and he said his name was Alan and that he was staying in room 14. It was almost midnight and we both started to yawn so finally we decided to leave the common area and go to our respective rooms. I kept thinking about him the whole night. It was one of the most interesting persons I had ever known. Talking to him was like talking to someone from a past time because he did not seem affected by all the “noise” of these days. The next morning, I went to have breakfast downstairs but I did not see him. I waited in the garden pretending to read a book just in case he showed up but he did not. I went to his room and knocked the door. A lady opened the door and I asked her if she knew where Alan was. She had no clue who I was asking for. I went to reception, asking if any guy called Alan had registered last night. The receptionist said that there was no guy under that name. I also described him but he said he had not seen anyone falling under that description. I looked around the entire hostel but there was no trace of Alan. When I came back to my room, there was a little piece of paper on my pillow which said “Hopefully, we’ll meet again. A.” I got really scared and I run out of my bedroom to the hotel backyard. It was a very sunny day but I felt frozen. I started to think what on earth had happened. Was Alan real at all? Today, I still have no answer.