PSA: ALL tweets/texts/links in this work are FAKE and recreated to fit into the FICTION of this story. NOT intended to cause harm or ill intent. These are only created for the purpose of FICTION.
"Good things take time, but not when you keep running...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Victoria
Sam and I had finished loading what we needed for our trip to New Mexico earlier than usual. Zak had told me last night that he and the guys were already there and even teased that he would know when I arrived due to Cimarron being such a small town.
I had vaguely heard about their next location: the St. James Hotel, and all I knew was that it was a hotel that had been there to see the early and ending days of the Wild West. Zak had informed me that they would be doing interviews today and a final walk-through tomorrow, and he had invited me and Sam to tag along as it would be off camera. Not only did he want me to experience this new location with him, but he wanted to see if I could pick up anything about the location with information they already knew.
For some reason, I kept thinking about the number 18. Maybe it was the first two digits of the year the hotel was built? Or it could be the number of people that have died there? Maybe a room number? Would a hotel that size even have eighteen rooms?
I shook my head at the thought, turning up the air conditioner on my truck as I waited for Sam to return after having to go back into the house to grab his guitar case while I checked my email to confirm that my reservation for the horse hotel was confirmed.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
