Motel Seven

Motel Seven

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WpMetadataNoticeÚltima publicación vie, feb 22, 2019
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Ficción
Misterio
So you've never lived anywhere else? Have you been anywhere else...?" James smiled a little and shook his head. "I have customers to attend to. No time for my own vacation." "Well, in that case, tend to my toilet." Then, he said something that was completely out of the blue. His question seemed to knock the air out of Dmitri, like a punch to the gut. How could- no, why would someone say that? "Say, you're no communist, are you?" Dmitri had always wanted to visit the West. When he finally gets the chance, he ends up in a retro motel in the middle of no where, and nothing is what he expected. The owner of the motel, James, may haunt Dmitri for the rest of his life, for however long that may be. Best Ranking: #25 in Communism #2 in Motel
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Únete a la comunidad narrativa más grandeObtén recomendaciones personalizadas de historias, guarda tus favoritas en tu biblioteca, y comenta y vota para hacer crecer tu comunidad.
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America just wanted to pay rent. That's it. That's the dream. No drama. No trauma. No getting eaten by a giant Russian snake-man hybrid in the middle of a creepy government containment facility. But unfortunately, America's new janitorial job comes with... conditions. Now he's locked in a pitch-black room with something ancient, massive, and hungry-something that speaks Russian, smells him like dessert, and can't decide if he wants to devour him whole or keep him forever. Too small to fight back, too pretty to be ignored, and far too mouthy for his own good, America's only hope is to talk fast, cry cutely, and pray the monster decides he's more pet than prey. A romantic horror tale of teeth, terror, and awkward flirting in the face of digestive doom

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