Nefaria--a prose anthology

Hotels are Lovely

I thump the side of the air conditioning unit, before trying the dials again. A soft, scratchy tune filters out of the vents, just like last time.

I huff in annoyance, turning the dial again in an attempt to quiet the music. Instead, it became a lively, jazzy tune.

I fall back onto the bed.

Hotels are lovely things, usually. Soft carpet halls, sweet smelling breakfasts, strangers passing your door. A new city, a new place to enjoy. Yes, hotels are lovely. But, not this one. Not this one.

The a/c is faulty. The bed is little more than a lumpy mattress on an uneven layer of bricks. The clock is all wrong; it says it's been days since I've arrived; it's only been hours. There's no TV, not even a radio to keep me company. The side table doesn't contain a Bible, if a side table where even here to be spoken of.

The lightbulb is probably the worst, swinging above my head on it's lonely chain and casting patterns around the room. I watch it tick back and forth, back and forth.

The heat in here is oppressive, I think, moving my foot in time with the swinging light. Choking, almost. Choking...

I sit up with a gasp, my hands clawing for my throat.

I could've sworn, there'd been hands.

Two, twin hands, aged and wrinkled from sun, and radiating the kind of heat that could suffocate. A face, blurry in features, and pale as the moon.

I look around wildly. No one could be here, no one at all. The door is locked.

I look to the door, but I can't see the knob well enough to know. I push myself off the bed, almost tripping over the nightstand in an effort to make it to the door. I fumble with the knob to no avail. The keyhole was empty of any key, and no chain lock to be found.

Odd. I remember a chain lock when I first arrived.

I go to the window, and struggle to open it. Boards are fastened outside, but that shouldn't prevent me from opening it.

I sigh in defeat, leaning against the window for any relief from the man's cruelly blazing hands.

I open my eyes, and scream from the sight. Peering between the slats is a woman, frowning through her bulldog face. Her lips are stained with something green, as well as her hand, which is splayed against the glass.

I fall back against the bed, shrieking in ear-splitting bursts.

"Go away, go away, go away, go away!" I yell between the screams, the man's hands causing blisters to erupt across my skin.

I kick at the open air, hoping to hit the man before I'm much too weak to do anything at all. The burning stare rips holes in my already injured skin, causing blood to leak out over the pristine white sheets.

"Get out!" I scream one final time as the lock clicks, and the door swings open.

A nurse rushes in, her hair neatly tied back, and the only thing she's wearing is a simple shift, clean of any blood.

I pull myself away from her, my legs kicking weakly at the blankets.

Please, don't get blood on your nice dress, I inwardly beg. It's nice. I'd love to have one for myself.

She hushes me, holding down my arms and shooing away the burning man.

I sink into the bed, feeling the blood leak through my thin dress.

"The a/c doesn't work," I tell her, and she dabs away my tears.

"Yes, dear, we will fix that," she says, calmly, pulling out a needle from her pocket. Yes, what a lovely dress.

I watch as she pushes the needle in my skin, pushing some sort of clear liquid into my veins. Ice, maybe, or water. I'm sure it'll help me cool down until someone can fix the air.

I lay back on the bed, feeling my limbs slowly fill with lead. A bead of blood emerges where she takes out the needle, and it starts to drop towards the sheets. The nurse uses her shift to clean it away before it can; I'm not so sure why an extra drop of blood matters.

"Get some rest, dear, I will be back soon."

She exits, and the door locks again, accompanied by the sliding of a chain lock. Odd. I still didn't see a chain lock, unless the nurse had returned it.

I melt into my bed sheets, allowing my eyes to drip closed without the fear of any man blistering my skin.

Yes, hotels are very nice.