IT was rolling in on Midnight but the joint still looked the same as it did when I came shuffling in here at about eight. Or was it seven? Anyhow…It was raining cats and dogs and there was a tornado warning being broadcasted all over the airwaves so I felt it suitable to seek the closest and safest of shelter.

Just as I was becoming hopeless I saw a neon glow piercing through the pernicious storm. I couldn’t quite make out what the neon light was trying to reveal to me due to the violent surge of precipitation and the fact that I left my glasses at home next to my wedding ring on a night stand on a ranch in a little town in Nevada. The closer I got the more the neon light seem to congest together forming a saturated blob that glowed of muddy hue in the most morose evening I’d seen in years.

Without hesitation I pulled in and sprinted toward the door. The place was dilapidated and reminded me of something eerie, such as the Bates Motel or the hotel ballroom Jack Torrance was compelled by in the movie, “The Shining.” Still, I really had no choice in the matter. It was the closest shelter and it what almost imperative I got off the road as quickly as possible. As I entered through the front door it came to my awareness that there was no one in sight. The word “vacancy” was lit up in the front window like the fourth of July and there was absolutely no sign of life. I was drowsy from the road and bitter from the frigid rain that was coming down in heaps. I was becoming both frugal and perturbed. I saw the bell on the desk gleaming at me and so like any impatient asshole I slammed on that bell relentlessly.

“Hello, service here. Hello!”

No more than a second later I heard a low, screeching voice somewhat comparable to that of the crypt keeper but just a tad bit more squeaky and modest.

“How can I be at your service this evening fine sire?

Where the hell did it come from? I spun around the room like a madman on a merry-go-round. There was nothing. At this point my heart was palpitating like a drum and I had my pecker in a head lock to keep from pissing myself. The storm worsened but to nothing of this degree. Was I going mad? I needed a drink. That’s it, a glorious drink. The answer to all unanswered problems.

“Sire, how can I be at your assistance?”

The sound seemed to be coming from down below me with the impact of a geyser busting from out the Earth.

“Sire, I don’t have all evening.”

And with that I detected where the ghoulish voice was coming. I motioned cautiously to the front desk and peeked over to view to this night what was the most frightening, yet, most fascinating thing I’d ever gazed my eyes on. A man, or dwarf for that matter standing no more than three foot tall with small, black, pebble shaped eyes with the same jovial facial characteristics as ol Saint Nick. At least, that is what I remember before blacking out.

By Michael Milano

This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 10th, 2007 at 4:08 pm and is filed under "One Way Inn". You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.