Gwen A.

Grade 11 – AP Creative Writing

Hotel Yerba
In the haze, in the haze, nostalgia cancels out all feelings. I lie down in the middle of the

living room, on the carpet plagued with dirt, feeling like an unlabeled can of soup surrounded by

memories with recorded dates and times. My parents had just begun their journey in the sky,

leaving me in charge of our old, rural home in Claypool, Arizona. In their absence, we both

quickly grew cold and in destitute of care; we both became ugly on the inside and the outside. I

had thought of cleaning up the place a few times, but who would it be for? Nobody ever bothered

to venture out here, and there was no reason to keep a false image. I didn’t need anyone to come

see me. I never wanted to outlive anyone again.

I never bought into the benevolence, omnipotence, and omniscience of God. It gave me

no comfort that my parents were in heaven while I was left here standing alone, holding

crippling anxiety in one fist and my father’s coverless bible in the other. I didn’t see the sanctity

in a being who was said to have complete knowledge about everything I had ever done. Holding

a cross in my hand was such a hilarious juxtaposition in my mind. Such mystery, such virtue,

such altruism, but the only thing I had left was taken away from me by this being without

forewarning. And how in the world was I to pull through?

On a sudden whim carried out by my dispassionate heart one day, I decided to leave. I

was going to follow the western stretch of some train tracks, taking only a half-empty bottle of

aspirin, four-hundred dollars, the first fifty pages of the bible, a knife, a bottle of water, and an

old sheet which would hold these things. I would follow the tracks wherever they took me,
hopefully as far away from here as possible, I thought. I was going to travel the states on the

white line. I was a demon of the sun-bleached morning.

There was nothing to look at for the first few hours but weeds and the occasional carcass

with its eyes missing. I came across a few depots and small towns where the train would have

stopped back in the day, but they were now boarded up and long left behind. It was probably

about five o clock in the evening when I finally spotted a building not too far off from the tracks

that looked like it was still being occupied; and by a stroke of luck, it was.

The sign that was probably once attached to the front of the building was now laying

broken and rusty on the ground.

Hotel Yerba

Vacancy

The lights were on inside. I pushed the door open. The receptionist resembled a sleepless

widower. He was hunched over his desk, swinging a key on his finger by its chain while

watching a wrestling match on his good old Magnavox. As soon as he heard me come in he

looked over and stretched, revealing the sweat stains on the armpits of his white shirt.

“What can I do ya fer?”

I was astonished by his surprisingly young-sounding voice which contrasted the tired

look in his eyes and wrinkles around his lips. This guy seemed a little off.

“Uh… just quit while I was ahead, I suppose.”

I didn’t know how else to explain my situation to him. He cackled and seemed to liven up

a bit after that. We talked for a bit, giving the TV a few glances and then continuing with the
conversation. He said he had left Claypool too in search for something, but he didn’t know what

it was.

“Nothing but hell on Earth here. Been thinking of leaving for Kalamazoo for a

while. ‘Bout thirty-five years to be exact,” he said, “ Ain’t no reason to stay in one place if you

cut all ties.”

He took a brief pause to pull out a tin full of chew and shoveled some into his cheek

before reclining into an old wicker chair which stood out in the dreary room. Then he continued.

“The difference between zero and one is my unwillingness to quit.”

I took a seat in front of the man’s desk and tried to work past my throbbing headache to

collect my thoughts. My perception of time became warped, I hadn’t realized that it was dark

outside now. I also noticed that I was sweaty and covered in dust and all sorts of outside matter. I

asked, almost jokingly, if he had a vacant room where I could stay the night in. He handed me

the key he was holding when I first came in.

“Twelve bucks and I’ll get us some steaks.”

I thanked him and headed down the hallway. My senses were incredibly delayed, for only

then had I started to take in the atmosphere of the place. The walls and the floor were both wood.

All of the windows were sealed with caulking and towels, as if to conserve the variety of smells

that the air held; from mold, tobacco, diluted beer, and morning breath to nail polish, rotted

Chanel, bleach, and women’s feet. The rooms, or at least the room I would be staying in for the

night, weren’t much better. But I was pretty much staying there for free.
 The bed was completely stripped and someone had ripped a plant to shreds on it and

spread the dirt everywhere. Bugs were everywhere. On the bedside table, there was a wedding

album, a bottle of really old grape juice, and a box of takeout which was, should I even mention,

unsafe to eat. I went to the bathroom to (try) and cleanse my face. The previous guest had left a

bottle of Listerine and a bar of soap on the sink. There were photographs and love letters taped

all over the walls of the bathroom. Someone really flipped out in there. An entire outfit was duct

taped to the ceiling, as well as a cellphone. Just out of curiosity, I flipped it open; it still worked.

Okay. That’s weird.

I walked back to where the bed was and flipped the mattress over, thinking it would be at

least a little cleaner on the other side. Ugh! A huge rusty-red stain was there. Whatever. I moved

the crap that was on the bedside table onto the floor and put my things down, then spread my

sheet out on the bed and sat down. Nothing interesting was on the TV so I pulled out my piece of

the bible and read. My mind was elsewhere though, no matter how hard I tried to focus and take

in the words I was reading. I was expecting to feel incredibly moved but I felt incredibly

pointless instead. It was a sleepless night. I looked at the clock. 11pm.

The TV in the lobby was still on. I assumed that the old man was still up, sounded like he

was watching a documentary. I padded down the hall shyly, but to my surprise, he wasn’t there.

Maybe he needed to go outside for some air. Can’t blame him. I couldn’t see him anywhere

outside though. Maybe he went out for a walk. As a kid, I always loved to explore new and weird

places. That curiosity in me never went away. I decided to check out the other rooms, there were

twelve all together but I could only open five. I went to the first one across from my room. It was

missing furniture and just had a bunch of paintings in it.

The next one was a little further down. It was spray painted everywhere and there were a

couple holes in the wall. Rodents claimed the bathroom, looked like they were reproducing

quickly. A stuffed rabbit was apparently sewed onto the bed. This was beginning to creep me

out. There was actually a door in this room which led to the room next to it. Just a bunch of

cleaning supplies in an ironically filthy room. I had a feeling that whoever occupied this room

just used the cleaning supplies to…well…lose brain cells.

I wasn’t prepared for what I was about to see in the room after that. It was simply

inexplicable. Disturbing, sinister, grotesque, tragic, whatever you want. There were random

verses scribbled onto the wall and an altar with a platter of amputated hands. But that wasn’t the

worst part. Nailed to a headboard, was the decapitated body of a woman. She was wearing blue

rags and a golden chain around her neck. The blood that once was gushing out of her neck was

now dry. Her head was replaced with a deer’s head. There were was a machine with some wires

which connected to the heart area and random places on the deer’s head. I instantly felt really

sick and gagged, but nothing came out. I turned around to run out of the room, when out of the

corner of my eye, I spotted the man’s face in the window. He had been watching me this whole

time… that sick maniac. I sprinted out to the hallway and tried to find my way out but he was

already blocking the only exit from that looney bin.

“Don’t worry, I made sure she didn’t suffer much.”

I picked up a metal fan that was next to the TV and aimed it towards his head, but I only

hit his jaw before he yanked it out of my hands. This freak was incredibly strong. There was
nothing else within my reach that I could pick up easily so I charged at him and knocked him

down.

“Wow, look at you go!” he was on the ground and a little out of breath from the impact.

“I DID HER A FAVOR SHE’S WHERE SHE BELONGS NOW! SHE WAS A

WITCH!”

“You killed her! And you were gonna kill me next weren’t you?” I yelled, with tears and

anger escaping from my soul’s core.

I grasped his neck and pushed down on it, trying to use my entire body weight. He was

furiously hitting me in the face, trying to claw my eyes out and get at me in any way he could as

he struggled and choked. I was staring into his eyes the whole time. Deliver his soul into Evil.

Deliver his soul into Evil. DELIVER HIS SOUL INTO EVIL. His eyes rolled back and he stopped

struggling. I couldn’t stop shaking and crying. I was going to be in trouble if anyone found out.

If I stayed alive…but I had to. It was a good riddance at least, yeah, I did em all a favor, you’re

welcome.

I didn’t even bother to get my stuff out of the room. I simply fled the place and searched

for police, or anyone, until dawn. But what would I say? What would I tell em? They weren’t

going to believe me there was no way they’d believe me. I didn’t believe it either.

Dear nobody,

I killed him for religious reasons; he thought he was God, I did not.