(Dreamed up crazy tale)

One of my buddies and I were traveling for a group Christian conference. We made a stop at 'Le Grand' a Hotel that seemed to be deserted. It seemed as though there were no life forms in this gloomy place. Full of webs in creepy faulted sides and angles of the slimy gooey walls. Then we heard a shy whisper that grew deeper and bolder drifting in the air. It was an old lady. She showed us to the main guest rooms that were in a dark grey shadowy hallway. I looked at Jay and I felt a cold shiver down my spine. He noticed and felt how uneasy ´Le Grand' made me feel. I felt kind of worried about him. He was trying to be all macho and Brave in front of me. But I knew that he was as afraid and shaken as I was.

Night time creeped on us like a blanket of darkness without any warning. I tried falling asleep but couldn't. I looked for something to do but I could only think of Jay. Was he doing okay? I steeped out of my room and walked into the spooky hallway. The doors seemed to be distant and hazy with each step I took. I surprisingly made it to Jay's room and knocked on his door. Just complet utter silence. The door creaked. I took a quick peak inside. There in his room was a bible. I checked to see if it belonged to Jay. But the outer cover looked so bizarre. It had sharp marks and rips through the main seal of the book. This particular bible was also missing a significant amount of pages. Some of the books were not in the right order as noted in the Table of Contents.

I decided to close the book and keep searching this odd room. The bathroom door was ajar. I walked in and was horrified at what I saw. There were cum stains at the back of the door. I began to panic and felt like letting out a shriek. My voice failed me. Where was Jay? I dashed into the hallway and down the winding staircase. I felt like something was watching me.

I saw a young man in a long coat in the distance. Could that be Jay? For a moment my mind raced and I was spinning into a spiral of madness. This was a terrible nightmare. I wanted someone to wake me up. Anyone wiling please?

As tragic scary thoughts of death and the Grim reaper accelerated through my mind-someone or something caught me before I tripped and fell. I felt a heartbeat. That soon calmed me down. My mind was back on Earth. Jay-how glad I was to see a known face. He had grabbed our bags and said that it was time to leave. I was not going to argue with him on that.

Into the far distance-We drove further out and away from ´Le Grand'. What a relief to have left such a creepy hotel.

And another thought came to my mind. As we left the place began to vibrate quite slowly and then poof. It was gone. It seemed to have vanished into thin air.

I told Jay the next time he thinks of picking a hotel. He should check the reviews online first. If that's not possible then we might as well not head out into a desolate place. I'm also glad that we made it out of there safe & sound. I was relived that I had someone to accompany me on the way.

it was bedside Bibles and continental breakfast on the fly...

"I wouldn't call it ideal," I say and you look away at the sound of my voice, "But in the grand scheme of it all...it is what is is." I light a smoke and look down at the disheveled sheets. I look at you and you're searching me for a reaction. "It's an unfortunate, fairytale." It's more to myself than to you. But your lips are quivering and theres a moment...wherein i freeze at the coarseness of your voice.

 

 "i got wet when i saw him."

It was a fairytale built on Hotel Bibles and Cum Stained Sheets

 

Your hands on the steering wheel as sunlight streams in the windshield, as the town rushes by the passenger window, as the desert wind wails outside the car like a mournful cry. I see you there in your golden beauty, and I wonder again why you bother with me, why you are here with me, and how long it will be until you leave me again.

Looming large on the corner of the intersection where we are sitting at a red light is a hotel. I see your hands clench the wheel tighter, and I know why, and it feels like a knife to the belly. Tainted are the memories of our stolen nights here, back when I was married and you were carefree and we both played recklessly with the emotions of those we were supposed to care about.

A muscle in your jaw twitches and I wonder if you're wondering how many others I met at the hotel during your absence. The knife in my belly twists, tearing me open, while images of faceless men who could never compare to you flash through my memory like accusations. You know far more than I wish you did of how poorly I dealt with life during your absence. I wish I could take it back, I wish I could take back the entire last year, and all the hurt and shame and anger that stain me as surely as the invisible cum stains on the hotel comforter. The psalms of regret and remorse play in a continuous loop through my mind, like the familiar verses of my childhood, in every cheap hotel Bible laying untouched and ignored.

In the distance, church bells mark the noon hour and the light turns green and we're off. The tension in your clenched fingers eases as the hotel is left in our wake. I wish again that the pain we inflicted on each other could be left behind as easily. The hotel on the corner is an ugly reminder of all the ways we fucked our love up. The scars we branded each other with are inescapable.

He loves me so much that he invites me out every Wednesday. The first time it was raspy call that lasted nearly five minute because he was so nervous and had never done this before, but now it's the same call every time. "Meet me out back in a few minutes." Click.

I would walk out as instructed, heels clicking, short dress sashaying from my hips swaying. He never opened the car door for me, not even on the first night. I would open it and take in the smells in a deep sigh. Cheap cologne. Cigarettes. Baby formula. He told me the car was used, so I guess I overthought it.

He greets me the same. A kiss on my cheek. "Damn, you look good." A few more down my neck. It makes me giggle when his mustache grazes my skin, so he's careful to do it often. I whisper his name, and he grins. With one hand on my thigh and the other on the wheel, we go to the motel. We have out room, 348, which is between the Korean family with the bedbug house and the gay guys who have been on vacation for months. He goes to change into his birthday suit while I explore the room. I've seen it all a million times. The Bible, carefully placed on the nightstand with gum underneath it. I run my fingers along the FU that has been etched into the desk before sitting on the bed with the hideous sheets and staring at the busted TV like a queen gases at her consorts.

He comes out after fifty minutes of prep talk to his little friend. He waddles to the bed and slides next to me. He kisses my shoulder blades and undresses me. I pull the sheets back and see the stains. A plethora of good moments forgotten. A multitude of relationships. Soon, I'll add to the masses.

She stomped out her cigarette on the cold concrete as the black sedan pulled into view.

The sun had set along time ago and the only people remaining on the streets were those who ran them and the ones who did their bidding. She was no exception.

Sauntering up to the vehicle she asked the man inside what she could do him for, she already knew the answer. 

Wordlessly he got out and she took his hand, leading him into room number three of the seedy motel she took all her clients to. 

He didn't say much but she didn't mind, it was better that way, he was just a number, a dollar sign.  

The lamp flickered as she took off her shirt revealing bruises, old and new. She wasn't beautiful; maybe she used to be, but the streets had taken her beauty and abused it, ground it down into scars and bruises and needle marks. 

He watched as she took her place on the bed and waited for him to follow, he did not long after.

Laying there on the cum stained mattress, convulsing back and forth, she wondered if he had a wife, kids. He probably did.

Tears formed in her dead eyes and she choked them back as the man grunted and finished.

He pulled a fifty out of his wallet, threw it on the bed and then was gone as quickly as he had came.

She reached for the bible on the nightstand next to her and opened it slowly. 

There was a time when these words meant something to her, or at least she had pretended they did. Forgive me father for I have sinned....

The tears fell as she shook her head and reached into the hollowed out book to pull out her favorite needle.

Maybe once she had believed in a God, but now... this was what she worshiped. She tied a belt tight around her bicep and waited for her veins to show themselves. 

Maybe tomorrow she would change, tomorrow she would go home, tomorrow...