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Hotel

Now I'm not the kind of person who is easily afraid or startled. The black plastic clock sat on the standard fake wood table, sitting next to the bed. It's dull red numbers read a faint 2:38 am. I sat up in the dusty covers of the crusty hotel room. I could just barely make out the faint outlines of the desk in the corner, a floor length lamp, and the mirror on the wall at the end of the bed.

Two hours earlier I had been driving in the pouring rain, and some bimbo decided to leave a bunch of broken green beer bottles in the middle of the highway exit ramp. I trudged through the muddy fields, and the dirt clung to my grey and white pinstripe pants.

Three miles and $75 later i am sitting here, in this room, with the image of the creepy old doorman, his skin a sick green hue, I doubt my retinas will ever recover. Idealistic? No! I can rough it, hell, this is more backwater in this hotel than outside sleeping behind a dumpster. At least is has walls and a roof.

I puff angrily.

A trolly squeaks down the hallway. Who in the name of hell would bring anything but themselves into this hotel? The handle of my door clicks back and forth. Stupid country hicks, can't ever read a number on the door.

I sleep.

3:00 am.

Someone is screaming. A voice gurgles and and calms down the woman. Probably found a roach.

BANG!

Yep, a roach, god this place is disgusting.

3:24 am

The woman screams again, clearly the banshee is trying to make a point. I throw the frumpy blankets off of my body. The heat escaping and cold tingling. I hate this person already. Grudgingly I kneel in bed and smack the wall behind the headboard of the bed. Clearly this place wasn't built to last, my hand goes through the wall. Little critter legs tickle over my right hand and crawl over my bracelet. I scream and so does the woman in the other room. High pitched an echoing. I run in a frenzy to the bathroom not he lefts, to get rid of the critters.

3:33 am.

The uneven change of surfaces form carpet, to linoleum floor of the bathroom causes me to slip. I. Smack. Hard. I hear a scream, and find myself screaming.

4:53 am.

I wake up in the bathroom my head limped over the side of the tub. I look at my hand, all that is left is my charm bracelet. All the critters are gone. I rub my forehead, and feel the lump. I look up an a silver gun barrel reflects off the mirror, there is a bright light and a small bang, must have been a silencer.

7:00 am.

Light peeps in from the dusty curtains. I'm in the bed again. I sit up. I hear a smack on a wall, and a trolly down the hall. A banging on the door. A feverish woman with grey. And white pinstripe pants littered with mud enters.




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