The Sun Down Motel Novels & Stories

The men are pushing wagons, children are playing around and the sun is just beginning to set. There are mostly brick built cottages everywhere I pass. If I am going to stay and find out what happened to Anna, then I have to find somewhere to rest and stay. Atlas, I see a motel, the motel sign light which I am sure has seen better days is flicking on and off and it says: ‘Northwood Motel, we also serve free kava!’

When the sky turned orange, I arrived home. People who hadn't eaten dinner were lining up in front of the restaurant. Classical, rarely-heard music filled the restaurant and my room this evening. I cleaned up and changed my clothes. Mother didn't leave anything to eat, so I didn't eat dinner. On the bed, my body lies on my stomach. My fingers propped up my phone while others scrolled through the screen. Posters of Nevan's Dad's driving lessons were scattered on the internet. He even guarantees that you'll be reimbursed if you don't pass the lessons.

I squinted and gave the bomb expert a half-smile. "There’s no need to waste time with words.” "Just do your thing, and quick." He nodded and got down to business with his tools. I licked my back teeth. Great. Now of all times I was dying for a smoke. The afternoon in Safrana? It was blazing hot. I had been standing in the blazing sun for what felt like an eternity, and it seemed like the sun was trying to cook me alive.

Outside Phoenix – Midday Heat The Sun Valley Motel sat wedged between a forgotten gas station and a faded diner, its vacancy sign half-lit and buzzing faintly. The stucco walls had been painted peach sometime in the late '90s and hadn't seen a fresh coat since. A single palm tree drooped in the parking lot, casting a long shadow over the cracked pavement. Alex stepped into the small, air-conditioned lobby with a duffel slung over his shoulder and sunglasses still in place.

It was already getting dark outside the window, through my reflection I looked at the town passing by, then lonely houses, less and less billboards, and after we drove onto an empty road, I did not notice how I fell asleep. I slept almost all the way to Laramie, only occasionally opening my eyes at rare stops along the way. I got off at the entrance to the city, before reaching the bus station. Not that this is my first night in a motel, but this one is perhaps the most colorful. Classic tired roadside motel. If the sign "Motel" was blinking, threatening to go out completely, and there was an administrator of a frightening appearance behind the counter, then I would definitely think that I w

Anna This motel is a far cry from the Ritz, but the plumbing works just fine, and after a long, hot shower, I’m feeling relaxed and rejuvenated. I swap my dusty outfit for some soft pajamas and exit the bathroom. Asher’s seated at the desk, totally absorbed with his computer. Jake lounges on one of the two beds, idly flipping through the motel’s advertised “350 channels of satellite TV!” All of them, it seems, are garbage.

Sarah winked mischievously. Thirty minutes later, they arrived at the only motel in that area. The motel was a Holliday Inn, with a dimly flickering neon sign. Shanon wouldn't have been able to read it if she hadn't walked closer to the neon sign. The motel was not very big with rooms facing directly onto the parking lot. Almost all the windows were dark and looked scary. Shanon told herself that she would only stay for one night, and there wouldn't be any ghosts in the motel rooms. There were two SUVs parked in the motel yard apart from Stevan's van. The cars had been covered in quite thick snow. Shanon suspected that the SUV had been there since this afternoon because the snow had started

Tears stream down my face as I realize I cannot get away from him. I hear the sound of Maxim unzipping his pants… Nikolai We arrive at the motel, located on the outskirts of the city, that Alexei discovered on the dark web. I can see that it is a run-down, dilapidated, two-story building. The paint on the outside of the small motel is peeling, and the windows are covered in grime and dust. The neon sign on the roof is barely visible and flickers erratically, advertising vacancies in a feeble attempt to attract customers.

He just stares out the window, his face turning to stone. "We have no home," Drakon says quietly. "We have no backup." "We have this truck," I say. "And we have each other." "That's not enough," he mutters. He shifts his leg, wincing. "Not against an army." We ditch the truck ten miles out of town, in a commuter lot. Markos hotwires a beat-up sedan. We drive until the fuel light comes on. We stop at the Starlight Motel. It’s a dive—a row of flickering lights and peeling paint off the interstate. Cash only. No questions.

It was so pungent that the smell made me cough and choke uncontrollably. It then dawned on me that he was pouring gasoline all over the sty. "You've got nobody to blame but yourself for being such a burden and getting in the way of everything. Mr. Tate can't ever get a day off as long as you're still alive. "So, it's better for you to just die and get out of his way. People like you deserve to die anyway." Moments later, flames began licking every corner of the sty. The pigs were startled and began squealing and trampling over one another in panic, trying to escape.