Through The Hotel Window

Chapter One - Opening Scene

 
Walking down the streets of New Hallow City by yourself at night can be overwhelming. The bright, LED billboards that shine ads directly into your face, to the sketchy people who ask if you want a pirated version of a knock-off Disney movie. This is really where all those stars are born? I think to myself as I walk past a street magician showing a couple a card trick. The polluted night air singes my sense of smell, sending waves of a mix of gasoline and cigarette smoke into my lungs. My body cringes at the scent, but continues to carry on, determined to find a motel - or something of that sort - to stay at. My legs begrudgingly follow one after the other, increasing my pace so I can find a place to stay before midnight. I check my watch, 11:27.

How can there be so many shops but no hotels? I sigh with annoyance. My eyes dart all over the place, frantically searching for a sign to point me in the right direction. So much for making it big in the music industry. I speed up my pace to the point where I'm jogging. Dew drops of sweat gather on my forehead. The cool air whips at my face. The sidewalk turns a corner and I follow, and that's when I finally see it. A bright red, neon sign that reads: "Motel." I sigh with relief and let my hands rest on my knees as I regain my breath. That only took 2 and a half hours. I get up and take a good look at the motel. The sign needs fixing, two of the letters aren't lit up. The building itself looks run down and old, I thought it was abandoned for a second. It's a three-story high shit-hole, but I need a place to stay desperately. I check my watch again, 11:35. I look over my options. Well, I could check into here for the night and look for a better place to stay in the morning, well, if I don't get murdered first, or I could try to find a different motel before midnight since that's when most motels close.

I thought about it for a second, and since that motel was the only one I could find in a span of almost three hours, I decide to stay there. My legs start to walk again, heaving each foot like they're bricks. When I finally make it to the motel, I rest myself against the doorway for a few seconds for a quick rest.

"You alright?" A voice asks, with just a tiny bit of a country accent. I look up. It's the person working the front desk.

"Oh yeah, I'm okay, I've just been walking for a while," I respond casually as I pick myself up off the doorway and fix the collar of my brown leather jacket.

"You're lucky you made it here before we close," the man says. I walk over to the front desk. The guy working was basically how you're already picturing him: a bit fatter wearing a white, greasy tank top with a pair of blue jeans. His hair was already balding, and I'm guessing he would probably be in his late 50s.

"You got any rooms left?" I ask, resting my elbow on the high part of the wooden desk.

"Yup, room 15 on the second floor. The last one we got open right now." He writes something down on a piece of paper, then opens a drawer that holds a few keys inside.

"That'll be 35 bucks," he holds out his hand as he grabs the key with the other. I pull out my wallet and grab two $20 bills. He takes it from my hand a little aggressively and hands me the key with the other. I stay put for a minute, letting the key droop in his hand.

"What're you doin kid, take the damn key," he dangles it out in front of him like a person does to a dog with a chew toy. I motion to the hand he has the money in. "Oh right... change," he grunts. He hits a button on his cash register and the small drawer holding all his cash pops open. Inside wasn't only money, but a box of cigars; fancy ones by the looks of it.

"You smoke?" I gesture to the small box. He looks up at my hand and follows it to where I'm pointing. "Aw, you caught me," he jokes. He moves the small box aside to grab a $5. "This is my most prized possession," he says with a hint of admiration. Holding the box up to his nose, he takes a long whiff of the cigars. He breathes out a loud exhale. I chuckle a bit, seeing a man look at a box of cigars the same way a man looks at his wife is just something a little abnormal to see on a tiring Friday night. He admires the box for a few moments before remembering I'm still standing there and hands me my five dollars.

"So, what brings you here," he looks me up and down,"you don't look like the kind of guy to be living in a filthy dump like New Hallow City,"

I look down at my clothes. "Yeah, I didn't think I would be here either," I put my hands in my pockets. "I just graduated college with a music degree and-"

"Hold it right there kid," he sits up straighter in his office chair, shaking his head a little bit. He pauses.

"Let me guess...," he clears his throat, "You wanna make it big out here in the world. You wanna be famous. You wanna tour the globe, setting Billboard records and 'achieving your dreams,'" he speaks the last part with immense sarcasm, making me feel a bit insecure, but I nod my head solemnly.

"Well, I'm sorry to break it to you like this, but dreams don't come true here. This is the place where dreams shrivel up," he brings his hand up to his face ," and die," then makes his hand into a tight fist. He stares at his fist momentarily with hidden trauma behind his eyes, before, again, remembering I'm still there. He clears his throat out of embarrassment. "Nobody makes it big here kid. Unless you sell drugs, or have some sort of illegal business going on, you're just human garbage like the rest of the common folk here." His eyes turn downward into sad crescents. Wow, I wonder what happened to him. I don't ask though, I'm not here to sneak into everyone's business.

"Well, there's no harm in trying, right?" I try my best to lift the mood, to not believe what he said, but the knives start digging deeper into my skin. The man chuckles,"Yeah whatever kid, have a safe night," he turns around in his chair and starts to write something down.

"You too," I respond with a sigh. I look at the key in my hand, clench it in my fist and begin to walk into the stairwell. But before I can get fully inside, I hear the man's voice again.

"Hey kid," he calls to my back. I turn around, already halfway through the door.

"I didn't catch your name,"

What does he need my name for? I think with panic. Should I give him a fake one?

I think against it, he probably just needs it for the sign-in sheet or something.

"Jace," I respond.

And with that, I walk through the door and up the stairs.

~~~

The man took out one of his cigars. His hands held it with such care, he could've been holding a puppy. He reached inside the right side pocket of his jeans and pulled out a flip lighter. He lit it, staring at the flame with awe. His eyes trained on the dancing light, focusing with such determination. His hand moved to the end of the cigar, delicately lighting it up. The cigar lit up with passion, the toxic embers on the other end gleaming red. He slowly placed the the other end of the cigar to his lips, breathing in the venomous air. He cherished the smoke filling his lungs, bruising them with the charred chemicals he so willingly brought inside of him. Then just as fast as he breathed the smoke in, he breathed it out with his words:

"Jace," he whispered thoughtfully, the smoke billowing from his disgusting lips.

"I think boss will be real interested in you."

—

A/N:
Welcome to "Through The Hotel Window"!
I'm so excited to start writing this book and I hope you guys enjoy it!
If I made any mistakes or there is something I need to fix/change, dm me! :)
-polinimon