After nine hours of driving through San Francisco and I grew tired so, I searched for a cheap, nice motel to stay at night.
I found one just after the sundown.
The neon sign“EAST WING MOTEL” glowed near to the small, oblong building.
When I parked my Chevrolet Cruz the front lights illumined the naked, brick wall.
The park-lot was empty and the vast, pitch-dark asphalt was divide (split) with white lines that reflected the red glow of the sign, what lurked me to the promise of the lull.
I went to check in and take my room-key.
Light brown wallpapers smothered the walls and naked wooden floors bore my steps as I approached the desk.
The woman, standing behind the counter was about thirty-four years old.
Her skinny face carried a ragged expression and her lips were almost invisible.
She looked like a woman prison inmate, but instead of the orange prison garb she wore a dark green T-shirt.
We did not speak, I just handed her twenty bucks and gave my key with number sixty-four.
When I turned to go to my room I beheld a boy.
He was ten years old, and the look shocked me.
He looked older, then his mother.
At least I thought, that the woman was her mother.
His skin was a little wrinkled and, he was bald.
The circles under his eyes emphasized his serious look.
He stood and eyed me, as if he saw a human being for the first time in his life.
He fixed his gaze on me.
“Brandon,” his mother said, “I told you to stay in your room.” She sighed.
“Please go back and lay down.”
I looked at her.
But just briefly because she avoided my sight.
Once in the room I sank into the bed and fell asleep right away.
The next day my entire body sore and my sheet stick to my skin.
The boy from the reception sat on the bed in a lotus position and propped his head with his hands on his knees.
His gaze sunk into my eyes as if he wanted to pull out my soul through them.
When I raised my head to look at my body, I knew immediately, why the sheet was stick to my body.
It soaked with blood.
I wanted to throw it away, but I could not move.
I shrieked in terror.
My body burned and the splash of blood just grew.
My gaze skipped back to the boy who gagged.
If I was him I'd puke as well, but then...
I head of snake appeared between his lips.
I bulged my eyes in terror when the snake slid out from the boy's mouth.
It traveled slowly down his neck, down his chest.
I watched the animal with white terror widening my pupils as it made its way toward me.
It curled on the bed and whisked its forked tongue.
It was about twenty-two inches long with sandy skin and gray patches.
The snake winded towards me and rattled its tail.
I watched the snake's horns on its head and the eyes with a narrow pupil what looked like a black grain of rice.
As I shrieked, the woman stormed into my room and when she saw me, she covered her mouth with her palm and shook her head in disbelief.
“Oh, no.” She murmured.
“Not again.”
“What's going on!?” I cried out.
“Oh no.” The woman repeated her words, and she walked to me.
Yes she walked, not ran, nor jogged.
“I told you stay in your bed.” She told the boy and removed the bed sheet.
As she jerked it the rattlesnake slid down onto the floor.
I raised my head to look at my body.
Then I understood why I could not move.
I understood, but did not comprehend what I saw.
Thorns attached me to the bed.
The plant gashed into my skin and flash.
It looked as if it had somehow
December 2015
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