When Time Ran Crooked

86 hours, 01 minute and 22 seconds Until

"I hate this place."

"Um, thanks for that information that I totally didn't care about, I guess," I retorted, rolling my eyes.

"You're welcome," he replied. "Wait-"

"Look, they're vacant!" I interrupted, excitedly, pointing at the sign which indicated so. "Now we can stay here, like you totally wanted."

Based on the glare that Claude gave me, he was trying to figure out how to kill me with his mind again (but we don't talk about that).

Cloud Nine was a sleepy little motel that looked like it was popular literally never. Just no. It was aiming for that cozy cabin feel with its log construction, yet the endless swirl of snow only seemed to emphasize how barren the landscape was- just road stretching on in both directions for as long as you can see, this one little motel with a buddy gas station as a reminder that humanity existed.

We didn't wait long after pulling into the snow-flooded parking lot. Claude and I grabbed our bags from the car and, wishing we had snow shoes, hiked the mighty mountain of snow that had accumulated in front of the entry doors and entered. It sounded fairly easy, but I definitely told Claude to leave me behind more than once. Some gallant force must've awoken within him because he refused to leave me.

The inside of the motel wasn't much, even in comparison to the outside. It smelled like elderly people, all moths and old books (with their fading glue and words and pages) and the too-strong mints they pop in their mouths to distract from the stench of their denchers. The carpets were the dusty purple of an old bruise, the walls papered with flowers that had probably gone extinct since their placement on these walls, but at least all of the furniture seemed to be comfortable underneath its blanket of dirt.

"This is charming," Claude muttered, sarcastically.

"Couldn't have said it any better myself," I grumbled.

"Is there even anyone in here?" Claude asked, in a hushed tone as we looked around. "Maybe when the sign said vacant, it meant of anyone."

"Don't you think you're being a tad dramatic?" I insisted. "I mean, at least we can count on the ghosts."

"Gh-ghosts?"

"Well, a place like this is pretty much guaranteed to be haunted," I reasoned. "Do you want to bet how many murders have been committed in here? Or better yet, the ratio of homicides to suicides? I'm think, maybe, seven to six, but you can nev-"

"Hello?"

Immediately, Claude let out a shriek. It was very high and a little shiver ran through his body, his blue eyes widening with fear. I wish I had gotten a picture of it. It only got better when he spoke in a stammered mush. "W-we're sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Gh-ghosts. We di-didn't mean to of-offend you."

"Ghosts?" Suddenly, an middle-aged woman appeared out of what seemed a wall. I could feel my own eyes widening, bewildered. Claude must be right . . . There was no one a normally dimesioned person should be able to walk through a wall. She's a ghost. They're all ghosts. All of them.

Then she started to laugh.

This place really was the setting for a horror movie.

I grabbed Claude's arm. "Maybe we should go."

"Are you kidding?" Claude whispered back. "This is like some Stephen King type shit."

I almost stepped back from him. "Exactly, Claude. That is literally exactly why we need to leave right now . . . oh, no. Are you in on this, too? Did you plan this? Are you going to kill me?"