LITERARY CONTESTS FICTION NONFICTION POETRY HAPPENINGS BOOK REVIEWS INTERVIEWS NEW TITLES ART & PHOTOGRAPHY
ADELAIDE Independent Monthly Literary Magazine / Revista Literária Independente Mensal, New York / Lisboa, Online Edition  

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO VACANCY
by Nathaniel Zebley 

 

 

Rachel stood up, walked over to the smudged window in the small room, and looked out at the parking lot with only a few cars in it. The “No Vacancy” sign was blinking rapidly, and the neon “Motel” sign had the ‘M’ burned out.   

“It’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one that has to think about this day in, and day out. You’ll never understand how hard this is,” she said.

Thomas walked over to the nightstand and picked up a bottle of the amber liquid. He finished off his glass before opening the large bottle and taking a swig from it.

“Can we at least talk about this tomorrow when you’re not like this?” Rachel said.

“I’m fine.”

Thomas took the bottle over to a loose chair in the corner of the room and sat down, taking another drink.

“I’m over this,” Thomas said, in-between hiccups.

“Well that’s not surprising, whenever anything gets too hard or doesn’t go your way, you just give up.”

“I don’t give up, I’m just letting you make the decision without me.

Thomas took another swig from the bottle.

“Sometimes I just wish that I listened to my parents and never stayed with you,” Rachel said, choking back tears. “Now I’m far away from home and the only thing I have to show for it is this shitty motel room and a boyfriend who spends our little bit of money on booze.”

“Well that was one decision that didn’t take you long to make,” Thomas said, slurring his words.

Rachel sat down on the storage trunk and put hand on her stomach, ignoring Thomas’ question.

He finished off the rest of the bottle and was now slumped in the chair, fading in and out of consciousness.

“I’m tired of dealing with a child,” he said, before drifting into an unconscious state.

Rachel looked back at Thomas who was now passed out with an empty bottle of Jack Daniels slipping out of his limp hand. She put her hand on her stomach and walked over to her dresser. She packed what little of the belongings that she had in her suitcase, and all of the cash that she could scavenge. Rachel opened the door, before stopping halfway out.

“I’m going to keep it,” she said, as she closed the door to the motel room.

 

 

About the Author:

Nathaniel Zebley loves movies and any storytelling media containing horror. You can follow him on Twitter: @n_zebley."

 

 

 

 

 

 

     
CONTENTS

HOME

CONTRIBUTORS CURRENT ISSUE STORE FICTION HAPPENINGS NEW TITLES CLASSIFIED ADS
ABOUT US

FRIENDS & PATRONS BACK ISSUES CONTACT US NONFICTION BOOK REVIEWS ART & PHOTOGRAPHY FACEBOOK
MASTHEAD

DONATE SUBMISSIONS BOOK CHAT LIVE POETRY INTERVIEWS BOOK MARKETING TWITTER

Copyright © 2018 Istina Group DBA Independent Publishers, New York            Webdesign: svnwebdesign