The Sun Down Motel Novels & Stories

’ “Hah!” Kayson performed Sound Hypnosis and hypnotized everyone within a large area, while Felicity was tasked to round up the members who pledged allegiance to Jett. Jett’s expression was unpleasant. When he saw Penta-sun Doyen, he hastily said, “Penta-sun Doyen…” Gary and the others had entrapped Penta-sun Doyen, so he refused to regard Jett with a pleasant expression. “Go away! You bunch of deadbeats!”

Haden chimes in suddenly and turns to the left. We pull into the parking lot of a run-down motel that appears to still be in business. It seems like a place that's been taken out of an old travel catalog, except worn out. The outside is painted in a shade that might have once been a cheery yellow, but now it is the color of piss. There’s a board on top of the three-story structure that advertised the name of the motel as 'Daisy Days motel', followed by a cutout of an ominously smiling sun. The parking lot is deserted. A single light shines over the entrance to the office.

He was scanning the street, his hand near his waistband where his gun used to be. "There," Chloe pointed down the road. A flickering sign. THE SLEEP-EZE MOTEL. $39.99 a Night. Free HBO. It was a single-story building with peeling paint and rusted railings. A drug deal was happening in the parking lot. "No," I said. "Absolutely not." "It's cash only," Chloe said. "No ID required. It's perfect." "It is a petri dish," I argued. "I will catch hepatitis just by looking at it."

Then, at last we saw the bright neon sign of the motel. Silver Pine Motel. The light was weak, showing this was as local as it gets. “Stay close,” he murmured. The cringe smell of bleach hit me the moment we stepped into the motel. There was a woman sitting behind the counter, around her mid-forties, wearing a cardigan. She looked up as the door chimed. Her eyes flicked over me, lingering for a moment longer, before following Damien’s voice. “Evening,” Damien said evenly. “We need a room, just for the night.”

After remembering the cold deaths of Lisa and Mr Myers I finally jolted my eyes open. I quickly wiped my tears away before the one driving the silver merc noticed. I had no idea where we were, but we were nowhere near Denver. "You up for some dinner sunshine?" Sunshine? Urgh, I hate that he's treating me like a kid. As I turned nineteen three days ago, I was technically an adult, but I could not yet drink. "No thanks," I replied taking out my phone to distract myself.

he said, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. The 'somewhere' turned out to be a small motel on the outskirts of town, the kind of place that rented rooms by the hour and didn't ask questions as long as you paid in cash. The neon sign flickered weakly in the growing dusk, half the letters burned out so it read "Mo_el" in stuttering pink light. "This is depressing," I said as Ryder paid the desk clerk—a man who looked like he hadn't seen sunlight in years. "It's temporary," Ryder replied, pocketing the room key. "Just until we figure out our next move without reporters following us everywhere we go."

"Is it safe?" "Safer than driving around with our license plates caught on every damn security camera," Maddox replied without looking at me. I didn’t argue. I knew he was right. A few hours later The motel was the typical roadside kind, with flickering lights and a neon sign that made everything look even more rundown. A couple of trucks were parked outside, and the smell of gasoline mixed with the warm night air. Dax got out first, and Maddox gave him a look, silently instructing him to get the keys.

would never have ventured into such places, let alone rescued Derek. Yet she took my place and impersonated me as the person who saved Derek's life. The memories, a relentless tide of pain, fueled my resolve. I clenched my fists, wiped away the last traces of tears and dialed a number. "Dennis Hoppe," I said, my voice steady, "Capo of the new rising east coast mafia. You're the man who took down two gambling dens in the south within a week, and the one who wiped out the Fernando family in a single night.

When the sun starts to set, Nash pulls into a single story motel outside of Joshua Tree National Park. “We’re about halfway to the border,” Nash says, hopping off his motorcycle before helping me down. “Best to stay here for the night.” “I don’t have money for a motel,” I say, crossing my arms. If I had my way, we’d just keep going through the night. “Don’t worry about that,” Nash insists. Before I can protest, he saunters into the front office and books us a room with two beds. The clerk gives us each a dented up silver key attached to a giant plastic keychain in the shape of a cactus and tells us that we’re in room 3.

I watched the car while standing at the curb until the car disappeared into the river of vehicles. No one from my past will ever know where I am again. *** The Sunset Motel sat on a street that didn’t get much sun. I've been here for twelve days. The wall had thin walls that let in every conversation from neighboring rooms, every argument, every TV show turned up too loud and headboards hitting drywall at two in the morning. But it was perfect. Because I’d chosen it, because no one knew I was here. I packed the few things I’d bought with Richard’s cash over the past week and a half.