Member-only story
FICTION | STRANGE | LUMINAL SPACE
Hotel Twilight.
You can’t check out, not just yet
“There’s something wrong with this place.”
“I — I’m sorry.” The concierge didn’t look up, he barely addressed the hotel guest in front of him. Instead, he continued to run a finger across a mess of ruffled invoices.
“Excuse me,” Ethan leaned closer. “I said, there’s something wrong with your dumb hotel.” He tapped his knuckles on the glossed wood of the reception. Its wooden grooves, though masterfully sculptured, weren’t completely sanded down, creating traceable patterns in the varnish if one was in the mood for such luxuries. Ethan was not.
“I apologize for keeping you waiting,” The concierge said trying to cease the rapping of knuckles, but still turning the paper in his hands. “What’s the problem with your room?”
“It’s the whole fucking hotel I have a problem with, but we’ll start with my room, shall we?”
“Ok.”
“Your crappy excuse for a TV you’ve got installed up there. It hasn’t worked since the day I checked in. Only plays static. I’m missing Happy Days, for Christ’s sake, I never miss that show.”
The concierge finally lifted an eye at Ethan, acknowledging the conversation wouldn’t end anytime…
