The Sun Down Motel Novels & Stories

I just drive. No music, No calls and No destination. I drive until the sun disappears, until I can no longer recognize the sign boards, street lights and people. . Then I pull into a cheap roadside motel. The kind of place where criminals hide. Where there is no crime because no body cares as long as you are paying good money to be quiet. The carpet smells like mould. The wallpaper is peeling in the corners. I pay cash. I don’t want to leave any trails. The room is cold.

light was flickering, but it was a taxi. I raised my hand. The car pulled up instantly, the tires screeching slightly against the pavement. "Where to?" the driver asked. He was wearing a dark hoodie, the strings pulled tight around his face, and a pair of sunglasses despite the fading light. His voice was muffled, a low growl that didn't quite match the professional tone of a city driver. "The Sunset Motel on Highway 4," I said, opening the back door and ushering Liam inside. "You got it," the man said.

The light is golden. "Do you want to drive?" he says. "No." "Why not." "Because I like watching you drive." "That is weird." "Probably." He glances at me. "You are staring again." "I am allowed to stare." "At what." "At you. Being present." He does not respond. He just drives. The road unwinds. The world turns. --- We stop at a motel. Not a hotel. A motel. The kind with doors that open to the parking lot and a sign that flickers and a bedspread that has seen better decades.

Dried cum still covered her face and breasts. “We have to stop all of this,” Ryan said, his voice filled with concern. “Take off the collar and clamps. I will figure out how to fix this so you can get your things from the house and still make your flight tomorrow.” He pulled into the parking lot of the Starlight Motel. Half the letters on the sign were missing and the remaining ones buzzed and flickered. Several prostitutes lingered near the vending machines and stairways, watching their car closely as Ryan got out.

What he needed in that moment however, sat to his right. Finally, they pulled into the parking lot of the Stardust Motel. The neon pink vacancy sign was turned on and it illuminated the entire side of the large, cylindrical building. There was an indoor pool that could be seen through the glass walls, and the rooms lined the back wall of the cylinder. They picked a spot furthest away from other cars. While he needed Tony yesterday, what he didn't need was a drunk Memorial Day party-goer to ding up his baby. He fully understood Tony's protectiveness over his vehicles.

Amy bends to pick up the books and gazes up for a moment at the place where she is most out of her element—she didn’t have any element to begin with, she tells herself. A sign at the entrance of the school reads in gleaming paint and well-ordered lettering: VALLEY HIGH. A few months ago, some graduating students had gotten a ladder and had added the words, ‘of the Shadows of Death’ to the school sign, making it the Valley of the Shadows of Death High School. Amy thinks it ironic, and although the paint had already been cleaned off and the sign repainted—even though the students were never caught—you could still make out the washed-out painted scrawl should you ever decide to search for it on

Sure, she was still speeding, but now it felt like all four wheels were under us, which gave me a much better sense of wellbeing. We exited the highway less than an hour later, and Bea circled behind a very sketchy-looking bar into the parking lot for the Waystop Motel. Or rather WAP MOL, from the missing letters. I looked at the two-level dingy building with outfacing doors to the rooms (rooms that had three deadbolts on the door), and decided that if I owned a place this run-down, I wouldn’t have thought replacing the lights in the sign would help much, either.

When Six got the call from Jason, we weren’t too far past Nashville so it was an easy flip around. The motel we pulled up to was an improvement over the usual shitholes Six stayed at. The upkeep was going on, and it didn’t look like meth heads were around. The two-story building was older, but the white paint was in good condition, the roof jet black, and the asphalt had a recent layer added. “Nice motel. I was really starting to get afraid of what STDs I was going to pick up in the cesspools you like,” I said as Six pulled into a parking spot.

Amie being a witch and a druggie made her the best girl for a night out. After driving for 2 hours, they came into a new town and got into another inn. Assigned with uploading the pictures and sending them to their boss, Joe didn't go to bed immediately. He had just finished when his phone rang. It was Steven calling. “Why are you still awake? Don't expect me to help you drive tomorrow. Hangover or no hangover, you will drive that truck yourself.” Joe started saying into the phone without waiting for Steven to talk. But instead of getting a reply, he got silence.

She sized her robust fingers into the latex gloves that came with the box, grabbing a cutting comb from over the counter. "All right, let's get to it. I need to get a hotel to lodge for the night. I have nowhere to spend the night. " With the cutting comb, she parted my hair into four portion, securing each portion with a plastic pin. "A distant cousin of mine used to own a motel on Glover's Avenue. Morning Sun was the name, but six months ago, the place was attacked by some canines, and they got it burned to rubble." Her voice dropped an octave. "Poor cousin. All of her life burned to ashes."