FYI: I am not fluent in English, I’m trying to be at least. Sorry for the potentials mistakes. Feel free to correct me in the comment section.
Jack T. had landed in Los Angeles, California, at 3 AM from a red-eye flight from Seattle.
After renting a car, he drove south, toward San Diego, where he had a book signing session on the afternoon for his last work, « Travel With A King ». Not his proudest nor his masterpiece. It was a book with no soul, just for the money.
Since this incident in this fancy hotel in Colorado a couple of years ago, he didn’t felt that the writing mojo he used to have was still there. It disappeared in the fire, along with his favorite typewriter, that good old Adler, his loyal comrade since the beginning of his writing career had disappeared. He also lost his wife and little boy. They aren’t dead, they just don’t want to see him ever again since that dreadful day.
On the interstate 5, driving while Jim Morrison sang lyrics that matched the present moment about driving down a freeway after midnight, Jack felt the heavy weight of sleep affecting his eyelid, therefore his driving. He decided to not taunt the devil, and to stop at the first motel with available vacancy to catch a shower and sleep.
After passing the camp Peddleton, he arrived at Carlsbad where a motel with a view on the Pacific Ocean was available.
He parked his car and took a quick look at the hotel. It was a reflex of his job, he used to think, to take time to watch how things looked and made him feel.
This hotel had nothing really noticeable. It was a regular motel, on three level. The picture perfect of an American west coast hotel. No balcony, doors aligned on three levels directly accessible from the outside. You could stay and watch every tenant going in or out of their room.
At the desk, a young man raised his head from his phone as Jack approached.
« – Welcome to the Mo’Hotel. In need of room? He said in a atone voice.
- Well… yes. It’s say on your billboard that their’s vacancy available. That’s why I’m here.
- Yeah… so?
- I’ll take a room buddy.
- Alright. Sea side view?
- Yeah, why not.
- It coast more with a view on the sea.
- Yeah, give me a room. I just want a good night of sleep.
- Room 313, the third floor. Here’s the key.
- It’s 35$.
- Yeah, alright.
- Also, it’s a weird room.
- Sorry what?
- It’s a room with… things.
- What are you on about?
- Previous clients complained of noise, knocking on the door. They found their clothes and stuff in a mess, things displaced and weird things like that.
- Well, that’s sound fun. Do you have some creepy weirdos as client lately?
- You want my opinion?
- It’s a ghost! It’s been going on for a bit now. Every time I have to go in this room, I do a little prayer even thought I don’t believe in God.
- Jesus! You surely know how to ease a client!
- There’s a weird feeling to that room. You’ll probably feel it.
- Alright. I just want to sleep, maybe a few hours of sleep will not disturb anything that linger here.
- Well, I hope for you. I’ve seen your face somewhere but I can’t remember where I saw it. Are you famous or something?
- No. I just write on papers for a living. Anyway, good night buddy.
- Yeah, good luck… night mister.
- Thanks! »
Jack started to think that hotels weren’t his things. Everytime, something weird happened when he rented a room, one time, it coasted him his mariage.
As he climbs the series of stairs, a feeling of dread took over his body. Every cells in his body was telling him to leave.