Flash Fiction Winner. There's no sleep for the weary. |
Prompt: Write a story about staying in a really bad hotel Thin Walls Even Aerosmith’s screaming rendition of Dude Looks Like a Lady wasn’t doing the trick. I was dead tired and fresh out of toothpicks to hold my eyelids up. I flipped my turn signal on and steered off the interstate, my headlights sweeping over a sign advertising lodging. The lodging turned out to be a ten-room motel of the variety only high school seniors on prom night would appreciate. But I was practically sleepwalking and needed to lay my head down for a few hours. I pulled up in front of Room 4 and grabbed my bag. Too tired to bother undressing, I flopped down on the bed, pulling a thin blanket over me. My body melted into the lumpy mattress with relief and I closed my eyes. That’s when I noticed that I wasn’t alone. Oh, I was the sole occupant of my room all right. But I had neighbors. Loud, talkative neighbors. Very...um...loving neighbors. I turned on the TV. The old western, with its gunfire and whooping indians, only added to the din. I pulled a musty pillow over my head. The smell of it made me gag and I threw it across the room in frustration. Defeated, I grabbed my smokes and stomped outside. After four cigarettes and eight laps around the parking lot, my temper cooled and I went back inside. I took the time to undress and, after pulling the sheets back to inspect for bugs, climbed into bed once again. It was finally blessedly quiet and I fell asleep at last. I had just tossed my bag into my car the next morning when the door to Room 5 opened and a man walked out. He stretched and then lit a cigarette. “Morning,” he said. “Morning,” I answered. “You must be Oh Jeffery.” Word count: 300 |