Page 194 - creative spark 2020

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I confidently answer, “Sure! Why not?”
There is no bellboy, so, we need to carry the bags by
ourselves. The door looks archaic. We barely open it. I walk to the
reception, leaving my friend with our bags on the sofa. The
receptionist dully greets me.

“Is there any room left?” I asked.
“No, sir,” she answers carelessly.

I am quite confused with the answer regarding the empty
parking lot and no sign of people around. Tod comes to join me at
the reception. We both plead for a room to stay in. The tedious
receptionist turns and slowly paces toward the back door. A few
minutes pass, but it feels like days. Her lean body appears with an
ancient key.

“Follow me,” she wearily tells us.
We follow her with confusion as normally no one would walk
us to the room in this cheap motel. Together, we enter the elevator
and the receptionist presses on an unnumbered button. The mirror
is stained and dirty and the carpet isn’t any better. A flickering light
bulb is the only light source.
We arrive at the unnumbered floor where we are supposed
to stay. The room is directly in front of us. The long gloomy corridor
looks like it goes on forever. As we walk, I notice several burnt
patches on the wall. The floor is carelessly cleaned. Cobwebs
hang in the corner. The decaying portraits lining along the corridor
unnerve me because of their scratched off faces, which makes a
chill run through my bones. They don’t have faces but why do I feel