I hung up the phone. I knew Eric didn’t realize Sunnyfield was more on the west side of the state, with nothing but farmland and no oceanfront access. So, I didn’t tell him and figured he could find out on his own. I needed coffee badly. My hands were almost shaking from withdrawal, like an alcoholic’s. But I’m not a drinker and never have been. Sure, I could appreciate a cold one on a hot day, but coffee was my drug of choice. The cheap little coffee maker had baggies of condiments and coffee. So, I decided to try using that finally. Damn, decaf in one and just the leftover straw and unused sugar in the other. “Shitty hotel,” I complained out loud, but no one was listening. The thump almost spooked me from the floor above me. There was screaming and yelling that I heard coming from somewhere yesterday after I checked in, but the rooms around me were quiet most of the night. Another loud thump, and some douchebag started yelling this time. I decided it was necessary to head out an

Getting back in bed, I didn’t turn the lamp on and only faced it to keep the bathroom door at my back. So again, I lay there, wondering if something else was going to happen to disturb my attempt at sleep, but nothing did. I didn’t dream, lucky me, but I woke to a chaos of noise. Somehow, I had managed to roll to the other side of the bed on top of the remote and turn the volume up on the TV, full blast. The preacher man’s voice spouting the same religious tirade from the night before was screaming at me while my phone was ringing. I got up and hit the power button for the tv as I answered the phone, “Yes, what?” “Oh, Mr. Lake, did I catch you at a bad time? It’s Sara from Dirt and Shore reality again. I wanted to make sure you made it to town just fine and confirm our appointment for tomorrow. 10?” My head was pounding, but I didn’t see any point in ruining her mood, “Sure, yes, 10 o’clock.” “Fantastic! I have the room booked for two nights so that you can rest comfortably till

Heading towards the shed to check it out, I called the real estate woman, but unfortunately, the signal was still a bust. Opening the shed door, I got the simplest scare I’d ever had. A cat, fat from field mice, came running out, throwing a hiss my way. I almost fell back as I yelled in surprise. “Damned cat.” I looked around to make sure he’d gone, and I didn’t see him. The shed was one of those old metal sheet sheds, half rusted with chicken wire windows. When I looked in, it wasn’t any more significant in size than the common bathroom. Rusted rakes and hoes with broken wood sat covered in web and bug carcasses. There was a blue, dusty old milk crate and some garden tools in a plastic bucket that’d seen better days. On the back side of the shed was a wooden shelf holding an old red metal toolbox of some sort of dirty white ball. It might have been a softball ball, but I didn’t step in to check. Instead, I closed the wooden door and walked over to the tiny house. It only had s

I pulled the phone away from my ear the moment the message ended. I never recalled telling the realtor woman I was looking for a place to write or that I was a writer. Figuring maybe she’d read my book or something, I didn’t find it disconcerting and went to the bathroom for a shower. Turning on the faucet, I was startled to see what came out of it. At first, I thought it resembled blood, but then it started sputtering brownish water with a foul smell. “What the fuck?” I quickly turned it off and got dressed. Then, leaving the room, I headed towards the motel’s sad excuse for a lobby. Seeing the old woman behind the counter gave me grief because I knew my complaint would more than likely go unheard. Her beady eyes stared at me as I walked in and up to the desk. “What you need?” She asked before I even spoke. “Somethings wrong with the faucet water in room seven.” She huffed, “Did you let it run for a minute?” I nodded, responding, “Yes. For a moment.” “You need to let it r

The sound of my phone suddenly buzzing on the tv stand filled the silence in the room. “Hi, hello,” I said after grabbing my cell phone while reeling from the nightmare. “How’s my favorite writer? Is everything going well? You aren’t returning my messages, Sam.” I didn’t respond right away, I wanted silence until I could clear my head, but finally forcing myself to respond, I said, “Yeah, everything’s just great, Eric. So great, in fact, I got to be stuck in lucky room number 7, where a murder happened, and to top it off, the staff of this joint act like it’s normal.” I left out the nightmare detail. “Oh my god! No shit?! Why didn’t you tell me yesterday? That’s fantastic! You could use this! I can see it now, ‘The Motel, a small desolate place where murder is part of the norm. What makes this place attract those that wish to kill?’ I must say it reminds me of that place in L.A., you know, what’s the name of it?” “I don’t remember. What do you want, Eric?” “Just waiting