MOTEL CHILD (Haunted)

The Visitors

Rat-rat-rat-rat! Rat-rat-rat-rat! My eyes flew open and my body flung upright. My ears buzzed and I searched for a lamp before realizing it was morning. The sound came again, drawing me out of bed. I had slept in my clothes, so I didn’t need to scramble for anything to cover myself. I wasn’t sure what the sound was until I heard it coming from the front door. Someone was at the door. Patting my hair, I walked cautiously to the front door, my right hand trailing against the wall as a form of comfort to me.

I then remembered my mother hadn’t gotten home, so, with a swelling joy, I quickened my steps, and ran to the front door. I unlocked the door and swung it open, my other hand ready to open the screen door. My crooked smile, however, dropped to sheer disappointment at the sight of strangers. They looked harmless; one was probably my mother’s age, the other girl my age. Politely, I opened the door and dropped my head out.

“I-I’m sorry if you think this is a motel—that sign should’ve been taken down long ago, but, it’s not in business anymore.” I made to shut the door on them before the elder lady struck a hand out and grabbed the screen door.

“My name is Lila Crane, and this is my adopted daughter, Lily.”

I gave them a small bow from the waist and smiled softly. I began regretting to have had ever thought about closing the door on two lovely ladies. Stuttering and scratching the back of my neck, I said, “Sorry about that, I’ve just moved in, and I wasn’t expecting anyone but my mother. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Mrs. Crane remained silent and I could tell she was disappointment about something. I looked over at her adopted daughter, who was rather attractive with her luminous blue eyes, platinum blonde hair, and petite, confident features. “Is something wrong, Mrs. Crane?”

“Does that last name mean anything to you?” she barked, her aged face quivering with humiliation.

Not wanting to offend, I said, “I’m so sorry, I wish it did, but I don’t know who you are.”

“Aren’t you Norman Bates’ son?” she asked.

I nodded my head. “Yes.”

“Is your mother home?”

“No, she’s gone. I don’t know when she’ll be back, why?”

Mrs. Crane took a step onto the front porch, using her adopted daughter’s shoulder for support. It appeared that she suffered from early arthritis in her knees. “Apparently, you don’t know much. I got a call from the man who’s been running this motel. He told me that a Mrs. Bates came in and signed the motel in your name.”

I looked around awkwardly, catching the girl’s eye once. But she didn’t respond. “Well, it was given to me. This motel, you see.”

“I made a contract with the temporary owner of this motel that the money would be passed down to me and the motel burned to the ground!” she waved a hand in the air.

I thought she was crazy, but something told me she wasn’t. Opening the screen door wider, I stepped out, hands in pockets. “I don’t know much about what’s going on, only that last night my mother told me of this place and that my father, Norman Bates, wanted me to have it. As for money, I don’t know what that was supposed to go to, but if it was yours to begin with, I apologize for my mother’s deceitfulness. I’m sure she didn’t know.”

“Oh, she knew!” Mrs. Crane hissed. “With that money, she can support her devilish lover when he shouldn’t be thrown into an insane asylum, but prison!”

I took defense and said sharply, “Don’t say that! My father’s crazy, but he doesn’t deserve that.”

Mrs. Crane chuckled, shaking her head back and forth. “Oh, it sounds like you don’t know anything, boy. Sounds like you don’t know anything at all.” She looked up at me sympathetically, “What do you know about your father?”