We’ve all seen that dilapidated roadside motel that’s located in the middle of nowhere. You’ve probably driven past one and said to yourself fuck that and kept on driving, or wondered to yourself what type of person would stay there?
This is about one of those times I didn’t say fuck that and I stopped to rent a room for a night…
It was a stormy night. The rain was pouring outside, lightning flashed frequently and there were loud booms of thunder that sounded like the sky was exploding.
It was late. I had been driving for sixteen straight hours already and I was exhausted. Plus, it was hard to see through the torrential downpour outside. I needed some rest.
I almost convinced myself to keep going since I was only eight hours from my apartment. I wish I would’ve listened to myself and kept going and never stopped.
As I started dozing, a flashing neon sign that read MOTEL in big letters was visible despite the rain. It caught my attention. I forced my eyes to stay open and I parked near the lobby entrance.
The motel was small, ten rooms total. It was at least a hundred years old and looked like something straight out of a horror film. The green paint on the outside was nearly faded completely, pieces of the roof were starting to fall off or become loose, and the landscaping was overgrown. There was a lone truck parked near the lobby.
I nearly slipped on the wet gravel as I ran up to the lobby door. A bell dinged signaling my entrance.
I was immediately greeted by the gravelly voice of the motel clerk. The clerk was a heavy set man in his fifties. He had greasy skin with short black hair and was blind in one eye.
He checked me into the motel, sliding a room key with the number eight imprinted on the tag.
The room was ugly. It had red wallpaper that was aged and starting to peel off, the carpeted floor was littered with stains and cigarette burns, and the bedsheets looked like something out of an eighties magazine. I didn’t really give a shit though. It was only for the night and I was really exhausted.
I plopped down on the bed, lying on top of the comforter. It didn’t take long for me to doze off into a deep sleep.
A loud bang outside my room woke me up. I sat up quickly, slightly panicked. BANG. I heard it again. This time, I went to inspect the noise by peeking out of the room’s window which faced the street.
I drew the curtain back just enough to glance outside. The storm had passed by this point. There were no signs of anybody out there. I retreated back to bed and laid down. It took a few moments this time but I was able to fall back asleep.
A woman’s voice whispered “help me” into my ear and woke me up. Her breath was cold as a winter wind in my ear. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I looked around the room. There was nobody else there. It was only me in the room.
This time I walked over to a little desk chair in the corner and sat down. I leaned back into the chair, slouching my position in an attempt to sleep. It was impossible to fall back asleep.
Behind me, there’s a scratching noise that comes from inside the wall. I had put my ear up to it to listen. It started becoming progressively louder and heavier. It sounded like whoever it was was about to claw their way through the red wallpaper.
This had pushed me over the edge. I jumped up from the chair and moved as quickly as I could to exit the room. I marched to the lobby to check out and get a refund but the clerk was gone.
I called out for him a few times but he didn’t answer. Where could he have gone?
I didn’t want to leave without getting my money back first. So I stayed. I rang the service bell at least a dozen times. There was still no answer from the clerk. He was gone and so was his truck.
I noticed the desk was covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs that wasn’t there before. I exited the lobby. The motel sign wasn’t standing like it was prior. It had fallen forward and the letters were broken in half lying on the ground, dark and lifeless.
The motel was completely abandoned. There was no blind front desk agent or glowing motel sign.
This had to be some sort of sick prank. That’s what it was, a cruel joke. I could prove it. I pulled out my wallet and the cash I paid the clerk with was still in my wallet.
A sinking feeling filled the pit of my stomach. My throat became tight and the air was thinning by the second. My wallet fell to the ground.
The last thing I remember was seeing the silhouette of the clerk approach me and then I woke up in my car at a rest stop. I had woken up right before his hand touched me.
I went to the restroom to splash water on my face before leaving the rest stop. I sped down the highway, determined not to stop anymore. I passed a flashing neon sign that read MOTEL in big bright letters. That dull humming noise that a neon sign makes has haunted every dream I’ve had since.