Spinner Motel

Your feet slam against the warm, wet asphalt. You can feel each step you take, it reverberates in your shins, up your legs, and gets lost somewhere in your back. You fight against your better judgment to look behind you.

"Shit," you pant as you see you're still being chased. It's getting dark, but you can still see them. How am I going to get rid of them? You think to yourself. You run faster, pushing yourself harder than you've ever done before, and the feeling of vomit tickles the back of your throat.

You notice a deep ditch and a thick grove of trees on the other side of it. You weigh the choices of continuing to run along the road or seeing if you can hide in the trees. You figure that since you don't know how much farther north you can run, you'll take your chances tucking and rolling into the ditch and seeking shelter in the trees.

You run a few more paces and roll into the ditch. The seconds you were rolling and not running were like drinking cold water after eating something minty, it was cold in your lungs, but you savored the feeling before landing hard on your right shoulder. Pain radiates through your shoulder, down to your fingertips, and up your neck. Pushing through the pain you get up and dash to the trees.

You didn't realize how dark it would be in the grove, but the thickness provides many hiding spots. Again, you run through a quick pros and cons list and decide that if your chasers also tuck and roll, they would look either deeper into the woods where you went in, or north in the direction you were heading.

You stumble through the trees towards where your attackers are coming from. About 50 yards back, you hear something, or someone, snap a twig. Three yards up, you see a massive bush, you make your plan. You run around the bush to the backside of it and make your way into it.

The bush was thick and had thorns, but if your options are some thorns or a group of attackers who tried to take you at a gas station, you'll take the thorns. Cuts can heal, they could kill you.

Ahead you hear footsteps, more than one set, but they sound like they are heading north. You let out a slow, shaky breath, what am I going to do? you think as you begin feeling all of the pain from running and the fall. You felt it before, but now you don't know when you'll be able to escape the thorny cage of safety you've wedged yourself in.

"Come on, guys, we lost them," you hear a man shout. You close your eyes and thank the gods and goddesses that guide you. You hear several sets of feet trample through the woods.

"I can't believe you let them get away, James," a gruff voice says and you hear a tumble.

"You made me trip," someone, James you assume, says.

"Dude, you're fine," the gruff voice says.

"Maybe, but now there's rocks in my palms, Garrett," James complains.

"Shouldn't have been walking on the shoulder, stick to the road, man," Garrett, you assume, responds.

"But now what are we going to do?" asks a whiney voice. They are either getting farther away from you, or this one has a quieter voice. You hear a reply, but you can't make it out.

You hear an owl hoot closer to you than you thought and it makes you jump. You approximate that it's been about ten minutes since you heard the last voice. Okay, they are at least a quarter mile south of me, I can leave the bush and if I stay inside the tree line, I can keep going north until I hit a town or something. You reason with yourself.

Slowly, you make your way out of the thorny bush. Covered in cuts, some deeper than others and actively bleeding, others just a few layers of skin deep, you unfold yourself from the bush. You walk about 60 yards north before getting closer to the tree line.

With each step, you are in agony. Your muscles contracting from the sheer amount of running you did, that doesn't include that you don't run much in your free time and the pain searing through your shoulder. It feels like every cell in your body is screaming and begging you to stop. Even breathing feels like a chore.

You recently moved to this small town and you don't really know what is north of the gas station at the end of your block. Eventually, you assume, is another town. Luckily, you still had your wallet and the Jacks Link's jerky you wanted bad enough to walk to the gas station in your backpack, that you took everywhere. Unfortunately, the phone you had in your back pocket had died. Even if it didn't die, you didn't really have anyone to call, other than the cops, and even then, did you really want to go back home?

You moved from Forks on a whim to Wallace, Idaho, a month ago, you never knew why, but you only took the bare minimum. You were starting your life over because something pulled you there. It was something you had never felt before. You had a life, friends, but something was dragging you to Wallace. A month has passed, but nothing made sense as to why you were compelled to be there.

You count the money in your wallet, 63 dollars, and some change. That would be enough to get you somewhere, anywhere, that is away from Wallace. As you recall back to your walk to the gas station you realize everyone was acting... different. It didn't make sense, but everything felt off to you. You didn't really know anyone, but everyone seemed nice to you. However, on your way to the gas station, people were avoiding you.

People didn't actively avoid you. Sure, not everyone waved as you passed, but no one had crossed the street to get away from you. It didn't make sense. As you ponder this, you continue northwest, away from Wallace, where things were making less sense the more you think about it.

Eventually, you see a sign, Clark Fort 30 miles. Sighing, you continue forward, muscles aching, feet sore, body begging you for sleep. You begin arguing with yourself.

"Please, can we take a break?" You ask yourself, a hint of whining trickles into your voice.

"Where would we even do that? The closest place is 20 miles away," you reply, in a slightly more reasonable tone than before.

"A tree? A bush? We need to sleep," the whiny tone replies.

"You want to sleep. In a tree?" You respond, hearing a crunching sound from the woods behind you.

You swallow, you're in no shape to run away from someone else. The crunching gets louder and you can't tell if it's bones being crushed or branches. You look around, frantically. Act like you belong you think to yourself.

Suddenly, a woman appears from the woods.

"Hi there," she says. You don't respond.

"Hey, you, on the road? I'm talkin to you," the woman calls. You turn your head to look at her.

"There ain't much out here, why don't you follow me to my house. Wherever your goin' can wait 'til daylight," the woman says and you stop walking.

You weigh your choices it's a terrible idea. Following a stranger to their house? That's the stupidest thing ever. If you were watching a horror movie, you would yell at the screen, " DON'T DO IT, DUMBASS! Only, this is real life, not a horror movie, what's the worst that could happen?

"No, I'm good, thanks for the offer," you tell the woman.

"What? Ya think I'm gonna hurt you?" The woman asks. You begin walking again and don't respond to her. "You're about 20 miles from any civilization. Sure, there's some houses here and there along the way, but most of 'em will shoot ya," The woman calls after you.

"I'll take my chances," You call to her. She mutters something but you can't quite make it out.

~~~~////~~~~

The mostly abandoned, narrow road you've been following for the last, probably four hours, has gotten much colder. Alarmingly cold, in fact. You never found a place to rest, but as you continue towards Clark Fort, things started getting strange. What sounded like screaming would erupt from the woods next to the road. Rustling that you didn't think could be from any animals near where you were walking. Each time you heard a noise, your pulse quickened.

After a longer than normal series of screaming and rustling, you began running again. Your body is screaming for you to stop, but your brain is screaming at you to run faster. Y0u feel like vomiting. You're so thirsty. The screams are getting closer to you. They had always seemed like they were behind you, but now they sound like they are right next to you. It's too dark for you to see anything, but you're pretty sure you don't want to see whatever is happening.

As you push through, you see what seems to be light in the distance. Finally, you think, this could be the end of it. I'll be in a town, I'll be safe. I can move back home.

This light makes you hopeful for the first time since you settled into your new home. You feel a smile play on your lips, this could all be over. You don't hear the scary things in the woods next to you anymore, you begin slowing down.

You see what looks to be the dark outline of a building coming up on your left. You feel giddy. Hopefully, it's something that you can rent a room in for a night, just a safe place to sleep. That's all you want. As you get closer, you see a sign. Most of the lights are burned out, but you're sure it's a motel.

You walk through the doors to this very dark motel.

"Do you have a room?" you ask the girl at the counter.

She doesn't look at you and she doesn't respond. She just slides a key across the counter at you. As you grab the key from the counter, you notice her eyes are white and matte. Her face is sunken in and you could have sworn you saw a spider crawl into her ashen hair. You debate if what you saw was real, but decide you must just be exhausted, and if it was real, you can at least lock the door.

You look at the key tag and find the only set of stairs in the building. You take a deep breath and begin the hunt for your room. You climb the stairs and are spit out in a hallway, there are no doors. You keep going down the hallway, alarmed that you haven't seen a single sign of life. As you continue down the hall, you see one door at the very end of the hall. The dull, black placard reads 33 in red letters. You unlock the door and when you open it you are hit with the thick, wet scent of mildew, rot, and something metallic.

You enter the room and feel the walls for a light switch, instead of the hard plastic of a light switch, you feel something wet with a little give. You pull your hand away to find that there is a dark substance on it. You walk a bit farther into the room and a string hits you between your eyebrows. Pulling the string, a single, bare bulb illuminates the room.

Looking around the room, you are horrified. The substance on your hand looks like blood, and you can confirm that it is. Where you felt the wet spot on the wall is leaking blood, it looks like a lung. There is a very pale looking leather chair, which you're hoping isn't made out of skin. Then your eyes fall on the bed.

The white blanket is covered in reddish brown stains, the pillow cases are a variety of characters, ranging from My Little Pony to Power Rangers to some anime you don't know. A spider crawls from under the pillows, over the blanket, and under the bed.

You look away from the bed to realize that there's no windows in the room. Which is odd, this room is at the very end of the hall. There should be a window.

"This was a mistake," you say to yourself and sigh.

Before the sigh can end, someone is next to you. You can see them out of the corner of your eye. You turn your head to look at them, when you feel a sharp pain in your neck. You can feel a cold stream of something entering your body. You wobble before you lose conciseness.

~~~~////~~~~

You wake up and you are on that stained, spidery bed. The crusty edge of the Power Rangers pillow is hitting you in the eye, everything looks watery. You try to get up, but you can't move. You try to say something, but you can't. There's someone with their back turned in the room with you. They turn around and you can take their features in.

Their hair is patchy, you can see stitches connecting different colors and textures of hair on their scalp. Both eye sockets are red and puffy, one of them has a brown, bloodshot eye in it, the other is just a hole. Scars connect two different lips to the face. The neck has scars and different skin tones, along with half a tattoo, everything below that is covered with stained, white clothes.

"You are awake," they say slowly, as if it's a struggle to speak. "I did not expect you to be up. I am your doctor."

You can't say anything, even though you try. You actually don't know what you would say, but you try.

"Unfortunately, I am out of venom, but hopefully, you will not feel this. I did want you to be asleep for this, though," the doctor says.

You try to scream, you try to kick, as the doctor gets closer to you. You notice that the doctor's legs are two very different sizes. One almost looks like a child's leg, the other leg looks about the size of yours. A few inches longer, but not many.

"I will need your eye, and your leg. You see, I have been watching you. You have very strong legs, you have walked for so long," the doctor says and lets out a deep, rancid smelling cough. That's when the door opens yet again. The lady from the front desk scurries in. You notice that she has six spider legs, abdomen, and spinnerets.

"Sir," when she speaks, spiders fall out of her mouth, "Did you need any assistance?"

"The venom was not strong enough to knock them out, however, they are paralyzed. I might just do the surgery in this state," the doctor says as his crooked hand hesitates over a melon baller and the saw.

"You should start with the eye, sir," the spider lady says. "That way if your patient dies from blood loss, the eye would still be intact."

"Very good point," the doctor agrees and coughs, then the doctor wraps his hand over the melon baller and stumbles to you.

You can smell his hot, rotting breath as he leans over your face and puts the melon baller on the corner of your eye. You try to move your arms, your legs, anything to get away from him. The baller sinks into your eye and you have never felt anything so painful in your life. Your optic nerve feels like a noodle working its way out of your eye hole. You feel the blood vessels popping and blood spraying all over our face, leaking into your nose.

You can't breathe. There is too much blood, you can feel it filling your lungs. You can't open your mouth to breathe through your mouth. This is how you're going to die. Drowning in your own blood. You think the sick, sadistic doctor is saying something, but when he turns back around, he has sewn your eye into his socket.

As you take your last breathe, you hear the doctor thanking you and you stare into your own eye.