The Sun Down Motel Novels & Stories

"I'm just a man with a truck and a very dangerous passenger." We stopped at a small, sun-bleached motel in a town that didn't even have a stoplight. The "Old Oak Inn." The air here was heavy with the smell of cut grass and woodsmoke. It was a place where the internet was a rumor and the only surveillance was the curious stare of the old man behind the front desk.

the man's red eyes glinted, his pale white face was adorned by dangerous glint. 'So, those werepups hadn't died. huh~' ***

Romero knocked one more time but there's still no response coming inside the room. "Maybe he's out again?" Callum suggested as he held his mother in his arms. Calliope shook her head while staring at the door. "We heard something break, Callum." She said. Romero knocked once again and when there's still no response, he angled his body sidewards and charge his way towards the door. The door instantly opened and they saw Morgan on the ground while holding his arm, his back was rising and falling in a rapid movement as if he was panting. Their eyes fell on the broken pieces of the night lamp beside him.

he said finally. I smiled. “Don’t make me regret it, rockstar.” “No promises.” ⸻ The motel looked like it hadn’t been updated since the 80s—complete with a flickering neon sign that read Vacan y and a vending machine that only took quarters, if you were lucky. The pool out front was questionably clean, and the AC units buzzed like they were on their last breath. But honestly? I was just grateful for my van. I parked near the edge of the lot under the only tree tall enough to throw shade, popped open the back to let some breeze in for Tyler, and cracked a fresh can of lemon LaCroix. Luxury.

Broken Pieces James pov The Blue Moon Motel sat like a forgotten relic on the edge of Highway 49, its neon sign flickering weakly in the gray morning light. Three hundred miles from Silverstone territory, it existed in the liminal space between pack lands—neutral ground where supernatural beings could rest without fear of territorial disputes or political

she asked. “Then we’re already gone,” Ethan said, steady, as if the answer was simple math. The neon sign appeared just ahead, buzzing weakly in the dark. Southern Pines Motel. The “S” flickered and died halfway, leaving outhern Pines to burn like a half-forgotten memory. Two levels, doors opening onto a concrete walkway, paint flaking off stucco that had once pretended to be white. A soda machine leaned in the corner of the lot like it had lost the fight years ago.

Four lonely cars and several massive motorcycles were scattered around a space built for thirty. The motel was a dull, two-story box. Stairs ran up the outside walls to a narrow landing for the second-floor rooms. The ground-floor rooms opened right onto the lot. To the right was a small, beat-up restaurant. It had definitely seen better days. Behind the restaurant, I could just make out a gas station. That was it. Nothing else. Who picked this dingy place? I swallowed the complaint. It was just one night. I could manage it. Hopefully.

DOWNTOWN I On an outer edge of St. Charles, just before the downtown area thinned toward the outskirts, the flickering neon sign of the King’s Motel burned against the night. For Anne, cheap rooms were the motel’s prime selling point. She had almost two hundred dollars in cash left. The mustached man behind the counter, whose name tag read Mike, pretended not to see her at first. She stood waiting for almost a minute before he raised his head to regard her for an expressionless moment.

His resolute voice clear in everyone's ear. "DOWN!" Joseph was momentarily confused with the order. Down? Didn't he mean fire? But they all went down and so Joseph did as well. And the explosions came back in droves. Only this time, it wasn't directed at Joseph and the Spec Ops. He craned his head up. From his left, Joseph saw streaks of white slamming down on the enemy's position, exploding on impact. He saw one of the enemy's armor being ripped to shreds by the missiles as though they were paper. Another armor was totally consumed by fireball, never to be seen again. The remaining two were heavily damaged but didn't bother to stay and fight. They were done for the day. They turned and ran

"I'm so sorry..." . . MARGAUX WATCHED ROME step out of the driver's seat and make a quick run for the door. It was already past ten in the evening when they reached a two-story cheap motel. With its street sign missing one bulb and the last letter flickering, Margaux read: The Sudden Turn. It was one of the saddest places she had seen. A lone flickering street was standing at the farthest corner of that empty parking lot, with chipping paint and tall mesh barricades surrounding the area.