I Locked Myself in a Motel Room. Then the Phone Started Ringing
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Why does the guest feel paranoid in the motel room?
If you enjoy a blend of science fiction and horror, be sure to check out my other podcast, The SCP Experience. This podcast takes you on a journey through the SCP Foundation archives where strange anomalies, secret experiments and unsettling mysteries collide. Let's just say it's not for the faint of heart. Be sure to search for The SCP Experience wherever you get your podcasts. Cigarette number four now, or was it five? He was losing count faster now, harder to concentrate. He had been able to tell time in cigarettes smoked, and at his last estimation, a standard pack might last him a good six hours if he was careful. The bedstand's digital clock now sat in the trash can. God knows that they must have tampered with it somehow, some way.
You could put microphones in anything nowadays, really. Same thing with the TV. He had thought it safe to watch here, but during Good Morning America, the host, the one with the suit who smiled like a cheap car salesman, blinked a message for him like a captured prisoner of war. The TV now sat unplugged and facing the wall where they couldn't see him. How long have I been here What motel was this again? He sat on the end of the sheetless bed and counted backward from cigarette packs and granola bars until he settled on concrete names. He had camel brand cigarettes. Camels. Camels live in deserts. Deserts are hot. Hot equals summer. Summer is three months. July is the hottest month. Ergo, it was July, and he knew this to be true, because it was indeed very hot, and the cigarette smoke clung to his greasy, sticky hair.
So it was July then. July the 4th. That's a holiday. Holiday Inn? No, no, too expensive, and not to mention the first place they'd look. So he was somewhere cheaper than a Holiday Inn. The days ran together now at such a rapid pace that he was certain he'd only slept for several hours. The sunlight poured in through the dark curtains like a peeping Tom, and he scurried away from it. It wasn't the sun that frightened him, but rather the exposure. He had tried his best to get a windowless room, but the toothless hick of a clerk with those glassy eyes that lolled around in her eye's sockets like a deer moments before the impact was of no help. took the trash bags out of the cans, and covered the window with them as much as he could.
What strange occurrences happen during the guest's stay?
The darkness gave him security, and it brought him some degree of comfort to know they couldn't peer inside. They could climb up the ladders and the drain pipes, up from balcony to balcony, and press their noses against the glass and see nothing. He stood up and adjusted the plastic, cautiously peering out through the space between the opaque cover and the fly-stained glass. There below was the road. Blood cell cars clotting bumper to bumper on asphalt veins, vomiting exhaust and belching oil. They crept along slowly, an inch every five minutes, and the snorting buses and semi-trucks rolled like lumbering brutes on the passing lane as much as they could, nearly plowing through the standstill if they merged a little too early.
The cloudless sky offered little protection from the sun, and the rays jabbed down like shimmering knives into the eyes and lungs of the crowd below. It nearly made them vomit to see the public, that surging, shifty crowd half-naked in tank tops and jean shorts shuffling below, in and out, out and in, milling around the parking lot or wandering down the sun-scalded sidewalks, pretending they had a purpose in mind. A woman, barely dressed in low shorts and a cut-off shirt, looked up in his general direction, and he recoiled, only just closing the shades before she could glimpse his face. They were masters of disguise, he knew, and he knew this very well. They were smart enough to hide among the populace, those drooling, slack-jawed apes.
But that was akin to a professor outsmarting an elementary school. No, no, he had picked them out long ago, back as a young man, and for that, they hated him. Since then, they'd taken on many forms to get to him, to seduce him and terrify him, sometimes in equal measure.
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