The Pforzheimer Hotel
The jewel in the crown of Millhaven’s hotels. A little creaky, maybe, but still a grand old dame. Located on Jefferson Street and Grand Avenue, a few blocks east of the Millhaven River. When you go to Millhaven, this is where you want to stay. Before checking in, ask the bellman named “David,” an experienced Pforzheimer hand, for assistance in being assigned to the “lava lamp” suite, which is not named for lava lamps, and be sure to tip him well. You’ll never forget your stay!

3323 N. Michigan Street
Millhaven’s most spectacularly haunted house, which is saying something. We speak not of actual ghosts, at least not mostly, but of the sense of hauntedness, the feeling that you have after you think you might have seen a ghost, and you’re pretty sure you know whose. Guilt enters, bringing with it a sense of shame. A figure male or female stirs in the corner of the darkened room. It is a small figure, connected somehow to you, to your own past, to yourself, intimately. Your greatest wish is that it stay back in the corner, hidden, its face – its actual identity – still obscure. From this little being emanates the most toxic, the most ferocious, aching hostility you have ever experienced in your life. Enter at your own peril, got that? The attentive reader will gaze between the child and parents seated on the front steps and note the numerals on the door behind them.