In Brief
Room 204 at the 17Hundred90 Inn in Savannah, Georgia comes with a ghost named Anna and a waiver. Guests say she moves their jewelry, flickers the gas lamps, and strokes their cheek in the dark. Leave early because of her, and you don't get your money back.
The Full Story
At the 17Hundred90 Inn in Savannah, Georgia, there's one room they make you sign a waiver to sleep in. Book Room 204 and the inn has you acknowledge, in writing, that there are no refunds if you leave early — even if the reason you leave is the ghost.
Her name, the staff say, is Anna. She keeps to 204, on the second floor, and guests describe her the same way: she rearranges their belongings, unlocks the door, makes the gas lamps flicker, and some say she strokes their cheek while they're lying in bed. Two women in the room once woke to find their underwear gone from their suitcases. They found it later downstairs in the tavern, draped across the branches of the inn's Christmas tree.
Who Anna was, no one can prove. The inn tells it two ways: a young bride from an arranged marriage who fell in love with a sailor and threw herself from an upper window as his ship left the harbor — or a woman pushed from that window by the husband-to-be who'd paid for her passage. There's no death record behind either version. Ghost researchers chasing the story turned up two real women named Anne tied to the building and ruled both out. The fall, the window, the name — it's lore, not the record.
The inn doesn't fight it. Miley Cyrus stayed in 204 while filming nearby, and the story goes she posted a photo of her boot with a handprint she blamed on Anna. A paranormal television crew left a teddy bear on the mantle, with a purple ball and Mardi Gras beads, and it stayed in the room after they packed up.
Down on the ground floor, shiny pennies keep turning up on the bar and the tables, left by a warm presence the staff call Thaddeus. And in the kitchen, something they don't name announces itself with the clink of metal bracelets — right before the pots, pans, and spice jars start flying at whoever's working.