A whisper in my mind Motel.
The neon sign outside the motel in my mind reads, Vacancy. I ring the bell at the check in desk. ding ding ding. Over and over again, But the young Indian mans eyes have grown glassy and distant as he stairs at a spot on the counter. The lobby smells of mold and rotting food.
The light over head flickers endlessly, driving me mad as I continue to ring the bell, Ding, ding, ding.
Dark crimson replaces silver, and the light goes out,
still the bell rings.