Young Writers Society

The air was cold, and the desert was dark.

Seldom a living shop or gas station along this endless winding road through the shallow dunes of sand at this ungodly hour of the night.

The headlights of a speeding deep red convertible split the darkness as it’s weary driver followed the highway deeper and deeper into the barren southwest.

Cool and dry.

Cool and dry was the desert wind that ran its fingers through the driver’s hair. With it came the fragrance of a flower, thick in the air that ran from the sand to the sky where the eagles soared.

Far in the distance, a yellow light played against the sand in an alluring way. The traveller decided it was time to finally stop when the sleep in his eyes could no longer be blinked away.

He saw her, standing there, as he approached the enormous homestead, perhaps it once served as the manor to a wealthy family many long decades ago.

In the doorway lingered the most enticing and irresistibly ravishing woman he had ever seen. Perhaps that any man had ever seen. The pure and white dress that clung to her tanned skin flowed the length of her height like a waterfall of silk, caught in the wind at her feet. She was a siren; Her eyes were the song.

“Hello,” he spoke as he walked to the steps and looked up at her. “My name is Don.”

She simply said; “Allow me to show you to your room.”

She lit a candle, and he followed without question or thought. The maze of hallways twisted and turned, every inch flooded with darkness that the wandering candle failed to reveal. The shadows chased one another across the cracked walls that watched the maiden and her guest.

An endlessly dark corridor passed, however, the newest guest could hear the faintest of singing. A weak chorus of voices that drifted from the dark, trying to hear the words but failing to put meaning to their whispers.

“Welcome to this lovely place… Ready room any time of the year.”

Yet the guest spared his doubt and found himself in his room minutes later.

“My name is Colitas.” whispered the white-clad woman. “Enjoy your stay.”

🌕🌗🌑

The Hotel’s new patron slept soundly in a beautiful bed and awoke to a beautiful sky that had been forever blackened by the night. The sun was not here, and never will be.

He found his way to a sandy courtyard where men danced to a sad tune. Colitas stood nearby with her eyes in the fire. She wore a sad smile.

The wine captain called the newest guest to the bar. “Can I get you a refreshment, my friend?”

“Bring me your finest wine, Captain.”

The smile on his face faded and his eyes focuses on nothing in particular. “Wine…” then his smile returned. “I remember this spirit… from many years ago.”

The wine captain recalled the memory for a few seconds more, before he spoke again, “We do not serve this ‘wine’ here, I’m afraid. I’ll bring you a glass of our finest scotch.”

The traveller sighed in agreement, and turned to watch the dancers. Their bodies were sculpted like statues of ancient gods.

“Captain,” The guest said over his shoulder. “Why is it they dance?”

The air was silent for the moment, besides the soft strum of the guitar. “Perhaps it’s for a reason beyond the music.” He wondered as he handed the guest his drink. “Perhaps it’s the only thing they can remember to do… Or perhaps they do it to burn away memories that haunt them.”

The Guest considered this while he sipped his drink. The strength of its taste brought a memory that had been barricaded in his mind by sleep.

He could remember now… He could remember sleeping in his hotel room, as dark as his own heart. From the labyrinth of lightless walls beyond his door, the whispers returned.

“Welcome to this lovely place… plan your excuses, and shift the blame of your sins.”

The guest sipped his scotch. The dinner bell rang, and then the courtyard was empty and the fire was gone. Only Colitas and her patron remained.

“Colitas… I understand now.”

She simply shook her head. “I’m afraid you don’t.”

His head waved around him. To the desert, to the courtyard, to the sky.

To the Hotel. “This place, Colitas. This place is no Hotel, and I’m no guest. This place, it’s a facility, and her guests are in rehab.”

Again, her head shook. “You don’t understand this place. It’s not rehab, and it’s not a hotel either. It’s a prison. It’s the place we put ourselves in, telling ourselves how beautiful it is. Everyone here has believed that once, and they will pile excuses atop one another to continue to believe. Their lies will stop at nothing to maintain the illusion.”

For the first time, the traveller questioned her sanity. Her lonely mind had been contorted beyond logic, undoubtedly. His gaze met the stars, which held paintings of confusion etched against the universe. His own reflection stared back at him from far beyond this world, high above, in the sector of the sky where the stars ended and the deception of his own imagination began.

“You’ve checked in to this hotel, Don. What have you told yourself to truly believe that this place is beautiful?”

The woman vanished behind a door, but her words remained like smoke from a dead fire. So he asked himself, but not only to himself.

“What have you checked yourself into?” and more importantly, he asked, “What’s your alibi?”

The dining chamber was vast and impressive. A feast lined the length of the elegant table, and at it sat the patrons of the beautiful hotel. Empty stares rose to his eyes, waiting for him to be seated.

But every seat was taken, every spot full, besides the ornately carved throne at the head of the table.

The Guest took his seat, where he could see the scene laid out before him. Each of their faces brimmed with an tangible measure of blank regret. What lies have they cursed themselves with? What mistakes to they reject to acknowledge when they come stalking in the night, plaguing their pitiful minds and stealing their sleep?

Why have they checked into the Hotel?

At that moment the chorus of whispers returned.

Not in a chorus, but in a single voice.

And not in a whisper, but in a roar.

The Beast leapt upon the table, with a dark mane like a desert night and red eyes like daggers thirsty for murder. Rows of vicious teeth it unsheathed with a vicious roar that shattered the room.

They stabbed, but it did not die. They cut, but it’s strength did not waver. And all the while, it’s eyes never broke its stare with the newest guest.

He did not stay, and he did not fight. Running, turning, fleeing, dark corridor after dark corridor faded away in black flashed with the beast close behind.

At last, he saw it. The door.

Amber streaks of light spilled in from the dawn sky of the real world. The only exit from this cursed place.

In the door, the Beast was already there, waiting.

“Relax…” It spoke in a growl. “You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.”