Doug Donnan
Executive
Editor/OMNI-GENRE+MAGAZINE!
donnan.doug@yahoo.com
'Reservations
at the Roach Motel'
by
Doug Donnan
(Lay-Z-Bones Trailer Park / 5:30 A.M.)
The two black cockroaches stood
there just along the baseboard of the
bump out kitchenette. The sun hadn’t quite risen yet, but
the dusty window
blinds just above the motor home’s brushed aluminum sink
were gradually
turning an ominous shade of burnt orange. The yellow
plastic wall clock just
above the red and white
checked linoleum table whispered tick…tick…tick
“Because
Jacob, you are younger and much stronger than I,” murmured
Esau matter-of-factly.
“Ha! yeh younger, by less than one
minute,” Jacob replied with a ‘cocky’
contempt. “You’re just plain
scared Esau. Why don’t you admit it? You’ve
heard all the damned stories
too haven’t you?”
“Stories?” asked Esau as he looked behind
his onyx body into the far off
murky shadows of the
trailer’s angular makeshift living room. “What stories?”
“Don’t give me that crap,” from Jacob as
he flicked a spiny front leg at the
round red plastic front
entrance door to the silent cardboard cylinder. “The
impossibly sticky floor
inside, the pungent but attractive scent of rancid cheese.
And let’s not forget these
mysterious doors. The old ones say that you can sure
as hell get in, but there
ain’t no gettin’ out… on either end of this thing. It’s a
damn trap my brother, just as
sure as we’re standin’ here in the dark.”
“You’ve been spendin’ too much time under
those damn claptrap cabinets
Jacob. Those are all just
wild old tall tales and rumors dreamed up by those
very same aged ones who never
venture out from the comfort of their chosen
nooks and crannies. Now look
little brother, we don’t have much time left. It’s
gonna’ be sunup soon and then
we’ll have to skedaddle on outa’ here.”
“Okay, I’ll be the guinea pig on this
little adventure, but you just mark my
words Esau, if I get in there
and can’t get back out, there’ll be hell to pay for
you the rest of your
low-crawling midnight life...understand?”
“Yes, yes I understand, but I’m gonna’
hold the door open so that ain’t
likely to happen. Now just go
on in there and grab that damn cheese or what-
ever it is and lets get outa’
here alright?”
“Dammit okay!” from Jacob and he pushed,
feelers first, into the tube’s
red plastic front door.
(1 minute later)
“What the hell is goin’ on in there Jacob?”
Esau tried as he scrapped a
scrawny black leg around the
side of the cardboard cylinder. “I can’t hold
this damn door open much
longer. Hurry up it’s gettin’ light outsi—
SNAP!
Like a
brilliant blast of white phosphorescent lightning the entire
kitchenette was engulfed in white light. Esau dropped the
door and skittered
all around and about the slippery black and white
linoleum tile in a desperate
search for some nearby dark sanctuary. But it was far too
late…
WHAAKK!
The long,
broad straw brush of the broom slapped down on him like the
wrath of God. There soon followed several swift sweeping
slaps and then…
WHOOSH!
Out the screen
door across the three, lawn-green Astroturf front steps and
onto the pea stone parking area he flew. He landed on the
curving surface of
his obsidian back, but did quickly right himself and slip
beneath some jagged
cracks in the sea of colored pebbles. There he hid...
silent and still as death.
* * *
“What in the
hell is goin’ on out there Esau?” Jacob called out through
an ever so slight crack in the door’s plastic rim. “I
finally got this thing freed
up. I’m gonna’ have to drag it outa’ here. It’s heavy as
hell and…Hey, you
let this damn door close down.” Outside he could just
barely make out the
sound of the front door of the trailer swinging shut.
Then ominous shuffling
footsteps, perhaps those house slippers that he has heard
in the past, now
coming and still coming…closer.
“Esau let me
outa here quick,” he screamed as he jiggled around inside the
claustrophobic confines of the tubular tomb. “I told you.
I told you dammit...
Esau…Easau… Esau!
_____ The End _____
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