Series
Something keeps calling the front desk asking for Room 112
I work night shifts at a mid-tier hotel — you know, the kind that sits right off the interstate and smells like coffee, carpet cleaner, and lost hope. My shifts are 11 p.m. to 7 a.m., which basically means I babysit an empty lobby and listen to the building breathe.
By V-Ink Stories2 months ago in Fiction
[FINAL UPDATE] The night clerk who posted about Room 112 is gone.
Hey, I work at the same hotel as the guy who wrote those posts about the phone calls asking for Room 112. I wasn’t sure if I should post this here, but I found something last night that I can’t stop thinking about.
By V-Ink Stories2 months ago in Fiction
Every night I take the elevator to the basement… even though we don’t have one
Hey everyone. I work nights at a mid-range hotel off the highway. It’s not fancy, but it’s clean, quiet, and usually empty after midnight. I’m the night porter — basically, I clean up the lobby, restock towels, handle laundry, and do any random maintenance jobs that come up.
By V-Ink Stories2 months ago in Fiction
The Pumpkin Spice Protest
The first leaf of autumn hadn't even hit the pavement before the world went mad. Pumpkin spice lattes, pumpkin spice candles, pumpkin spice dog treats. To Agatha, owner of The Crusty Loaf bakery, it was an assault on the very dignity of the season. Autumn was for robust sourdough, for apple-cinnamon scones with real diced apple, for hearty rye breads. It was not, she declared to her empty shop, for "flavoring perfectly good coffee with what tastes like a candle shop fire."
By Habibullah2 months ago in Fiction
