A Flash of Words

Cecilia kicked shut the door to Room 630 and slammed the hotel keys on the adjacent table so hard it made the bathroom door across the room rattle in its frame. “Welcome to the Californian!” muffled voices down the corridor taunted, followed by high-pitched gales of laughter. She raised her middle finger high at the disembodied voices before flicking on the kitchenette and main lights. Jerks! Why would they let transients sleep in the hallway? And what rundown fleabag of a hotel still uses these old-school metal keys? She rolled her luggage to the bed and flung herself onto her back with a sigh. Her reflection from the mirrored ceiling glowered at her with annoyed exhaustion. Stains of unknown origin mottled the bedspread. Real classy, Californian. So glad the airline put me up in this dump. She was supposed to be on her way to Puerto Vallarta to relax and drink poolside with the rest of her girls. Cecilia wasn’t flush like they were, so she had to take a red-eye flight from Winslow, with a layover in LAX. A suspicious package had forced the evacuation of the airport while she was between planes, and all flights were canceled until they got the all-clear. After giving the airline clerk a hefty earful for the inconvenience, she finally conceded to the delay. “I think I know just the perfect place for you, ma’am,” he had said. She could hear the smug cockiness in his voice. At least they offered free accommodations, but Cecilia was pretty sure she’d prefer sleeping in the terminal to this skid-row relic. As if in response to her thoughts, the main room’s light flashed, then died with a faint pop, converting the room into a dimly lit funhouse of shadows. Yep, this is how my day is going. What was it that creepy kid Don at the front desk had said? ‘You can check out any time you like?’ I wonder if it is too early now … Her reflection peered down at her with a darkness she wasn’t wearing. What the— A soft thud from the bathroom banished all thoughts and irritation. She leapt to her feet, ears straining. A nearly inaudible hiss of something sliding along the bathroom floor, raising goose bumps on her arms and prickling the hairs on the back of her neck. Her bladder threatened to release the pressure that had been building since the flight. Cecilia grabbed a lamp from the bedside table and crept to the bathroom door. Her knees wobbled and threatened to buckle. She pursed her lips to smother the chattering of her teeth. As she was almost upon it, she heard the shower curtain slide open. Her insides filled with ice water, and she yelped in fright before she could stop herself. A floorboard in the bathroom groaned under some shifting weight. A trickle of urine escaped her bladder and warmed her inner thigh. The bathroom door burst open, and a screaming figure charged from the dark with a baton-like weapon raised above their head. The shower curtain rod smashed onto her hand and knocked the lamp to the ground, where it cracked in half. Cecilia screamed in agony, rage, and terror and shoved her assailant back into the barely lit bathroom. Her adversary fell on their back with a grunt. Cecilia charged at the person, and a stomp-kick to her soiled groin greeted her. She collapsed to her knees, gasping in pain. Still lying on the ground, her attacker swung again with the rod, but this time, Cecilia grabbed it with both hands and wrenched it from their grasp. She held it vertically, raised it above her head, and thrust down with all her weight. She stood and flipped on the light switch. The body trembled and shook. Blood flowed from where the rod protruded from the attacker’s eye socket. Cecilia crept closer to the woman on the floor and shrieked when she recognized the broken face as her own. Her knees finally gave way, and she fainted, collapsing into the fetal position alongside her gurgling doppelganger. She opened her eyes some time later and winced at the throbbing pain in the back of her head. The bathroom was dark again. Cecilia pulled herself up and shuffled to the light switch, not lifting her feet, to avoid tripping over the body. The bathroom looked immaculate, as if housekeeping had just left—no body, no blood, and the shower curtain was back in its proper place, undisturbed and clean. Am I losing my mind? Her swollen, bruised hand and aching crotch didn’t seem to think so. Light clanking and clicking at the front door signaled someone was entering the room. Cecilia flipped off the light and eased the bathroom door closed. The front door slammed shut, and Cecilia covered mouth to keep from screaming. Keys hit the table. She heard people talking in the hallway—voices, but no distinct words. Light footsteps stepped across the room, then silence. Cecilia had been leaning toward the door and started to lose her balance. She put her hand on the door to steady herself and realized her mistake when she heard a sharp intake of breath from the room. Panicked, she shuffled backward to the shower, then, as quietly as she could, detached the curtain rod from the wall and slid it off the curtain. She raised it above her head and crept back to the door. A soft cry on the other side made her jump. Cecilia flung open the door. Another body double! What the hell is going on? She charged, screaming, the rod raised high above her head. She swung hard and knocked the lamp from the other Cecilia’s hand, where it tumbled to the floor and cracked in half … *** For more information on this author, visit: jm-ames.com