The motel that we stayed in on Wednesday was clean, but lacked some things. The room was small and the bed was only a full rather than a queen. The breakfast was fine, but wish there was more protein. I slept well, so that was good.
Hannah Taussig
The other day the motel called me. I was only there for an hour and a half, on the other side of town, for lunch, but I got the call. They wanted to verify, and the local cops were interested, that I was there. I of course said “no”. Even though I was, but why would the police chief need to know? His wife was at work at the time. Or was it her lunch break time too?
Nothing caters to human nature quite like a cheap motel. The privacy, simplicity, and versatility of a small room with nothing but a bed and a TV make it a choice option for respite from the road, shelter in a storm, or even an outlet for lustful desires. After all is said and done we cast off the time we spent there like shedding a skin and we can continue on with our journey without a care in the world.
Kristian Pierce
She took the keys and went up to her motel room. She lied on the bed and let the silence feed her thoughts. Her mind was churning through every possibility. She thought the silence would help…. Maybe vodka is what is missing.
okayfine
Sitting in this digscusting motel, I waited for Carl to come back. He had gone out to see if it was safe to move places. But the waiting is killing me. I don’t know how much longer I can wait. I hope he comes back soon.
Cheyenne Aeternum
She sighed as she entered the motel, wondering how she got herself into this mess. The image of yesterday burned into her mind, of the bodies of her friends whose faces where nothing but charred images of memories long past.
TheAmethystWriter
The door creaked open and the dust of what looked like hundreds of years flooded through the sunlight.
Seasoned, but riddled with a crust of deja vu that lingered with the different therapies, the meditations, or ulitmately perhpas just distractions. And the motel beckoned with the same safeties that nightfall brings, like the candid comes out from under the grizzled walks and makes friends with the loose.
smurfstoestar
“I don’t run a motel you know,” she commented, kicking one of his discarded shirts with a toe.
He rolled over on the couch and peered up at her blearily.
“You’re right. I don’t have a car and historically speaking motels were invented to cater to the drivers traveling cross-country on the new interstate system.”
She crossed her arms and sighed.
“Fine. This is a hostel then. Get up, clean up, and get in the kitchen. We need to talk.”
Aimee A.
It’s diminutive but motel does strike a certain image doesn’t it. Call it a snap judgment but to me it never denotes luxury just the seedy places you see in movies. It conjures the image of uncomfortable beds, cockroach infestations and false name reservations. I like it. It’s intriguing you never know what could happen next.
Rysa-Marie Jones
The dim lights of the run down motel called to her, promising an endless buffet of hookers and druggies. She licked her lips as the faint smell of blood blew past her, carried by the taunting wind. This particular motel had definitely seen it’s fair share of blood spilt, would it mind if she spilt a tad more? Is this what her world had come to? Feasting on the blood of the unwanted and tainted?
Cat
The room was empty, but littered with our regrets. I let my hair linger on my face, taking in the mingled scent of cigarettes and cologne. This will hurt tomorrow.
Jennifer C.
She arrived at the motel on a cold, rainy night. It was dark and it was hard to see through the windscreen as the drove but in the distance she could see the neon light from the Daybreak Motel. That would have to do, she thought to herself as she hunched forward in her seat to try and see a little better.
Lucy
they pulled up under the neon sign with the flickering “O” and the blanket of stars, the two of them in the front and their whole lives packed in the back
Rhea
He pulled into the parking lot of the drearily drab hotel. “Well it’s better than nothing I suppose.” He said to himself. He stepped out of the car.
We celebrated Emma’s 40th birthday at the Maxim Motel, where we snuck in cold bottles of bubbly and a box full of doughnuts we had snagged from the nearby grocery store. It had been two weeks since Emma had left her abusive bastard of a husband, so she was definitely doing most of the drinking. After we sang to her, she sang back to us, though she decided on a jazz standard than just repeating that obnoxious birthday tune.
Belinda Roddie
long car rides into night time skies. adventures with family, seeing things i’ve never seen before, breakfast – not always good, but very welcome before yet another long car ride.
The motel room was clean. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, I suppose, but somehow I always pictured these sorts of things in dirty, poorly-lit rooms. The beds are both made, and the garbage can has a fresh bag in it. There’s a book on the side table with a bookmark saving a page close to halfway through. I wonder for a moment if the book has any hints in it as to how to stage a kidnapping, or if the person reading it was looking for something a little more escapist. Hard to tell from the cover.
the motel was cheap and dirty. the right place for a person who just left her husband and children, driving hours to get away as far as possible. the motel will be my silent chamber of solitude.
The motel that we stayed in on Wednesday was clean, but lacked some things. The room was small and the bed was only a full rather than a queen. The breakfast was fine, but wish there was more protein. I slept well, so that was good.
The other day the motel called me. I was only there for an hour and a half, on the other side of town, for lunch, but I got the call. They wanted to verify, and the local cops were interested, that I was there. I of course said “no”. Even though I was, but why would the police chief need to know? His wife was at work at the time. Or was it her lunch break time too?
Nothing caters to human nature quite like a cheap motel. The privacy, simplicity, and versatility of a small room with nothing but a bed and a TV make it a choice option for respite from the road, shelter in a storm, or even an outlet for lustful desires. After all is said and done we cast off the time we spent there like shedding a skin and we can continue on with our journey without a care in the world.
She took the keys and went up to her motel room. She lied on the bed and let the silence feed her thoughts. Her mind was churning through every possibility. She thought the silence would help…. Maybe vodka is what is missing.
Sitting in this digscusting motel, I waited for Carl to come back. He had gone out to see if it was safe to move places. But the waiting is killing me. I don’t know how much longer I can wait. I hope he comes back soon.
She sighed as she entered the motel, wondering how she got herself into this mess. The image of yesterday burned into her mind, of the bodies of her friends whose faces where nothing but charred images of memories long past.
The door creaked open and the dust of what looked like hundreds of years flooded through the sunlight.
The drive was long and boring. i thought of pushing it till the destination. But alas, my wisdom told me to hit the motel!
Seasoned, but riddled with a crust of deja vu that lingered with the different therapies, the meditations, or ulitmately perhpas just distractions. And the motel beckoned with the same safeties that nightfall brings, like the candid comes out from under the grizzled walks and makes friends with the loose.
“I don’t run a motel you know,” she commented, kicking one of his discarded shirts with a toe.
He rolled over on the couch and peered up at her blearily.
“You’re right. I don’t have a car and historically speaking motels were invented to cater to the drivers traveling cross-country on the new interstate system.”
She crossed her arms and sighed.
“Fine. This is a hostel then. Get up, clean up, and get in the kitchen. We need to talk.”
It’s diminutive but motel does strike a certain image doesn’t it. Call it a snap judgment but to me it never denotes luxury just the seedy places you see in movies. It conjures the image of uncomfortable beds, cockroach infestations and false name reservations. I like it. It’s intriguing you never know what could happen next.
The dim lights of the run down motel called to her, promising an endless buffet of hookers and druggies. She licked her lips as the faint smell of blood blew past her, carried by the taunting wind. This particular motel had definitely seen it’s fair share of blood spilt, would it mind if she spilt a tad more? Is this what her world had come to? Feasting on the blood of the unwanted and tainted?
The room was empty, but littered with our regrets. I let my hair linger on my face, taking in the mingled scent of cigarettes and cologne. This will hurt tomorrow.
She arrived at the motel on a cold, rainy night. It was dark and it was hard to see through the windscreen as the drove but in the distance she could see the neon light from the Daybreak Motel. That would have to do, she thought to herself as she hunched forward in her seat to try and see a little better.
they pulled up under the neon sign with the flickering “O” and the blanket of stars, the two of them in the front and their whole lives packed in the back
He pulled into the parking lot of the drearily drab hotel. “Well it’s better than nothing I suppose.” He said to himself. He stepped out of the car.
We celebrated Emma’s 40th birthday at the Maxim Motel, where we snuck in cold bottles of bubbly and a box full of doughnuts we had snagged from the nearby grocery store. It had been two weeks since Emma had left her abusive bastard of a husband, so she was definitely doing most of the drinking. After we sang to her, she sang back to us, though she decided on a jazz standard than just repeating that obnoxious birthday tune.
long car rides into night time skies. adventures with family, seeing things i’ve never seen before, breakfast – not always good, but very welcome before yet another long car ride.
The motel room was clean. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, I suppose, but somehow I always pictured these sorts of things in dirty, poorly-lit rooms. The beds are both made, and the garbage can has a fresh bag in it. There’s a book on the side table with a bookmark saving a page close to halfway through. I wonder for a moment if the book has any hints in it as to how to stage a kidnapping, or if the person reading it was looking for something a little more escapist. Hard to tell from the cover.
the motel was cheap and dirty. the right place for a person who just left her husband and children, driving hours to get away as far as possible. the motel will be my silent chamber of solitude.