Metamorphosis Motel (horror::a little graphic so be warned) - Writers Forum

frantic_scribbler · 11-15-2004, 10:32 PM

Tony woke up with a splitting headache. Early morning light come through the window and made the pain worse. He slowly shuffled to the curtains and pulled them shut. It was then that he realized he wasn’t home, he was in a motel.

As Tony headed back to the bed, fragments of the night before played in his mind. He remembered having a few drinks at the Hangman’s Noose after he had got off work. A couple hours, and twice as many drinks later, he had seen a beautiful woman walk in.

The other occupants of the bar had snuck glances at her. The bartender had approached her and barely stammered out his sentence.

“Can…can I get you anything, ma’am?” he asked the woman.

Looking up at him, she had simply shaken her head and went back to staring at her hands. The bartender had shrugged his shoulders and went back behind the counter. All the men had tried going back to talking and joking, but their gaze kept going back to the goddess at the table.

Tony remembered that he had turned to look at the woman. His eyes wandered from her calves, to her chest, and to her face. It was then that her icy, blue eyes caught his brown eyes in their magnetic gaze.

Tony rubbed his temples as he remembered the woman. As shards of his memory came together, he also recalled that the two of them came to the motel together.

“Where is she anyway,” he thought to himself.

Tony looked on the other side of the bed. Yes, there was most definitely someone under the covers. Ignoring the headache that movement brought, Tony pulled back the sheets. The woman from the previous night was under the sheets, but her head was in an unnatural position.

It was if her neck was…Tony almost vomited. He had been sleeping with a dead woman. Then it hit him; had he killed her?

“No,” said a voice, “you did not kill her, Tony.”

Tony jumped up, ignoring his hang-over, and searched the room for the owner of the voice. His eyes fell upon a cloaked figure by the door.

“Who…who are you?” asked Tony fearfully.

“You don’t recognize me, Tony? I would think that of all people, you would recognize me. After all, I’m you,” said the cloaked man.

Tony slowly began backing away.

“You can’t be me. I’m me,” said Tony gesturing towards himself.

“You don’t understand,” said the man, “I’m the other you. I’m the side of you that finds pleasure in killing. I do the things you’re too afraid to do.”

“No, no, no,” said Tony, shaking his head, “this isn’t real. This is all a dream and I’ll wake up in a few minutes in my own bed.”

“Is all that we do and all that we seem just a dream within a dream,” said Tony’s opposite, “You must have read that poem at sometime or else I wouldn’t have known it.”

It occurred to Tony that he had read Edgar Allan Poe at one time. It also occurred to him that his “man” in front of him was…

“You’re my alternate personality,” he said full of awe, “You’ve been with me since…”

“Since you were a child,” said the cloaked Tony with a nod, “when all those other people began teasing you. You could have let me take control, but you suppressed me! I look like this because of you!”

Tony backed away even more. His lip began quivering in fear.

“There’s a gun in you bag, Tony. Go get it!” ordered Tony’s other.

He unwillingly complied, shuffling towards his bag. The eyes of the dead woman stared accusingly at him as he reached for the gun. Tony paused as he felt the weight of the pistol in his hand.

“Good,” said the cloaked man, “Now, put the barrel in your mouth.”

Tony shook his head. Tears were running down his cheeks and he was sure he had pissed himself. He didn’t know how much longer his legs could hold him up.

“DO IT!” bellowed the cloaked figure.

Slowly, Tony put the barrel of the pistol in his mouth. He tried to swallow, but it was hard with the gun between his lips. Tony’s thumb found the trigger and pulled.

The sound of the gun was muffled by Tony’s mouth. He hit the floor, all life gone from him.

“Finally,” said the cloaked figure, “it is my time.”

As he shrugged off the cloak, the body of the former Tony faded away. The new Tony donned his successor’s clothes and left the room. The entire time, the dead woman was witness to it all.

AutumnWritings · 11-16-2004, 03:32 AM

Hey there. First off, I would like to say you are very talented. I liked this piece, but I would like it more if there was a bit more detail. I feel like you could have put a bit more information in certain places. Anyways, like I said, I loved reading it! I am looking forward to reading more from you.

JHM

frantic_scribbler · 11-17-2004, 01:31 PM

Thanks. I love having readers who enjoy my writing. I will continue to post short stories as I complete them. Keep a look out for them.

kerpoe · 11-18-2004, 12:47 AM

WOW

Very...lets leave it at graphic. You are a good writer I must say. You just need to develop a better setting at places.

KERpoe

Queasy Dillo · 11-18-2004, 12:50 AM

What they said - basically, you could inject more detail. Killing somebody takes tact and patience....my all-time record was three pages, and I figured that was bare minimum.

My opinion, though. Your mileage could vary.

frantic_scribbler · 11-18-2004, 01:23 PM

Every writer has their own way of writing. The reason I don't add detail such as date or town is because the reader will be able to relate the story more easily to their town and their time.
Thank you for the suggestions though. I'm just glad that people are reading my writing.

Deadally · 11-18-2004, 01:40 PM

Uhhh...meh

It felt like you directed this to someone younger in perception than me. The diction itself just seemed immature to me. Everything happened so quickly and superficially that I knew what was going on but didn't really care. Everything seemed laid out in cookie cutter fashion, and the talk with his alternate self felt...cliche

With sensory details, like you said...I like to be able to relate places, especially a place so common as a motel room, with my own experience. It does make the story more approachable if you don't tell me something that goes against my perception. That's just me, so don't take my word for it

I just didn't feel there was much story to this. Man wakes up, finds dead body, is driven to kill himself...

So?

These are things you just need to watch when you move to write your next story. It would help if you had more of a sense of WHERE you were going with it, and it needs to flesh the plot out somehow. Otherwise, I don't give one lick about your story or the characters therein.

frantic_scribbler · 11-18-2004, 03:42 PM

Cliche....hmmmm. I find it strange that you say that because I have never seen that idea used too much. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen it used. I write what comes to mind. I'm not one of those who can lay out everything in a neat little layout. So when I write, I write a world out of time and place that will appeal to everyone.
Also, if it didn't appeal to you, then why did you read it?

Queasy Dillo · 11-18-2004, 04:01 PM

That may prove to be trouble, Frantic Scribbler.

See, when most people read they want a very distinct, clear environment in which the story can unfold. Everybody can relate, but with more detail everyone can relate on more levels. You'll trigger more memories of a motel by describing what's included - uncomfortable mattresses, the strange empty smell of the room, rough carpet, and the annoying hum of the air conditioner, etc - than just leaving it at 'a motel'.

Bring the setting to life and you'll get better responses. Also, work on developing your characters. Right now they're in dire need of something to make them stand out from cardboard cut-outs.

Finally - you don't fire a gun with your thumb. You can bring the hammer back, but you have to use your index finger to operate the trigger mechanism.

Deadally · 11-18-2004, 05:55 PM

I read it to critique, and I try not to mince words. Hopefully, as a writer you do not want people to sugarcoat your stories. That is why I read it and found I did not like it AFTER I read it

Muffin Man · 11-18-2004, 06:19 PM

I wanted to stop reading this after the second sentence.

Quote:

Early morning light come through the window and made the pain worse.

The come/came error tells me that you didn't read this to yourself before posting. But, accidents happen. I continued.

The flashback scene was too long for you to use 'had turned' and 'had snuck', etc. It would flow much better as just a relation of the events. It isn't as if he is talking to someone about last night, he's thinking about it.

I think a few other flashback scenes would pad the story nicely. One descibing the woman's murder and one describing a scene from Tony's troubled childhood would be great.

I was interested! I'm looking forward to your next story.

frantic_scribbler · 11-18-2004, 11:12 PM

Tony woke up with a splitting headache. Early morning light come through the window and made the pain worse. The mattress was a little stiff and the smell of the room was rather stale. He slowly shuffled to the curtains and pulled them shut. It was then that he realized he wasn’t home, he was in a motel.

As Tony headed back to the bed, fragments of the night before played in his mind. He remembered having a few drinks at the Hangman’s Noose after he had got off work. The smell of smoke and beer had become a relaxant for him after years of patron ship. A couple hours, and twice as many drinks later, he had seen a beautiful woman walk in.

The other occupants of the bar had snuck glances at her. The bartender had approached her and barely stammered out his sentence.

“Can…can I get you anything, ma’am?” he had asked the woman.

Looking up at him, she had simply shaken her head and went back to staring at her hands. The bartender had shrugged his shoulders and went back behind the counter. All the men had tried going back to talking and joking, but their gaze kept going back to the goddess at the table.

Tony remembered that he had turned to look at the woman. His eyes wandered from her calves, to her chest, and to her face. It was then that her icy, blue eyes caught his brown eyes in their magnetic gaze. It seemed as if hours had passed by as the stared at each other.

Tony rubbed his temples as he remembered the woman. As shards of his memory came together, he also recalled that the two of them came to the motel together. Both of them had had way too many drinks. They both had stumbled into the room holding each other up.

They both fell into the hard, motel bed. They practically tore off each other’s clothes to try and get to what was underneath. After that he couldn’t quite remember what else had happened.

“Where is she anyway,” he thought to himself.

Tony looked on the other side of the bed. Yes, there was most definitely someone under the covers. Ignoring the headache that movement brought, Tony pulled back the sheets. The woman from the previous night was under the sheets, but her head was in an unnatural position.

It was if her neck was…Tony almost vomited. He had been sleeping with a dead woman. Then it hit him; had he killed her?

“No,” said a voice, “you did not kill her, Tony.”

Tony jumped up, ignoring his hang-over, and searched the room for the owner of the voice. His eyes fell upon a cloaked figure by the door.

“Who…who are you?” asked Tony fearfully.

“You don’t recognize me, Tony? I would think that of all people, you would recognize me. After all, I’m you,” said the cloaked man.

Tony slowly began backing away.

“You can’t be me. I’m me,” said Tony gesturing towards himself.

“You don’t understand,” said the man, “I’m the other you. I’m the side of you that finds pleasure in killing. I do the things you’re too afraid to do.”

“No, no, no,” said Tony, shaking his head, “this isn’t real. This is all a dream and I’ll wake up in a few minutes in my own bed.”

“Is all that we do and all that we seem just a dream within a dream,” said Tony’s opposite, “You must have read that poem at sometime or else I wouldn’t have known it.”

It occurred to Tony that he had read Edgar Allan Poe at one time. It also occurred to him that his “man” in front of him was…

“You’re my alternate personality,” he said full of awe, “You’ve been with me since…”

“Since you were a child,” said the cloaked Tony with a nod, “when all those other people began teasing you. You could have let me take control, but you suppressed me! I look like this because of you!”

Tony backed away even more. His lip began quivering in fear.

“There’s a gun in you bag, Tony. Go get it!” ordered Tony’s other.

He unwillingly complied, shuffling towards his bag. The eyes of the dead woman stared accusingly at him as he reached for the gun. Tony paused as he felt the weight of the pistol in his hand.

“Good,” said the cloaked man, “Now, put the barrel in your mouth.”

Tony shook his head. Tears were running down his cheeks and he was sure he had pissed himself. He didn’t know how much longer his legs could hold him up.

“DO IT!” bellowed the cloaked figure.

Slowly, Tony put the barrel of the pistol in his mouth. He tried to swallow, but it was hard with the gun between his lips. Tony’s finger found the trigger and pulled.

The sound of the gun was muffled by Tony’s mouth. He hit the floor, all life gone from him.

“Finally,” said the cloaked figure, “it is my time.”

As he shrugged off the cloak, the body of the former Tony faded away. The new Tony donned his successor’s clothes and left the room. The entire time, the dead woman was witness to it all. The woman’s empty eyes stared up at the water-stained ceiling.

zaoshang · 11-19-2004, 01:18 AM

I enjoyed the good pace of the story. There was always something "at stake," which kept me connected.

About the idea: I wouldn't call it a cliché, though I can't find it very original either. Recently, there has been much interest in the topic of Multiple Personality Disorder. It's risky to approach a theme that has been used and overused. The final scene in your text reminds me too much of the final scene in Fight Club, thought in the film it's the good guy who wins. Otherwise, the story would be really good. You're a writer, that's obvious.