This is the short story version of my script LAST CHANCE MOTEL |
LAST CHANCE MOTEL PART I By: Jordan W. I drove my 1985 Chrysler through the desert roads, I had been driving for hours I have one mission. The man I was meeting was a 45 year old lawyer; he had pissed my boss off. The road was empty I passed a gas station or some sort of rest stop every fifty or so miles. I had just filled the Chrysler up and I was ready to finally reach my destination: The Last Chance Motel. The unlucky bastard I was meeting, Haiden Franklin, was a wealthy individual and family of three. They were on a retreat to Vegas for some reason, never got ecstatic over that carnival-like city. To each is own. I’m sure Haiden and his family wouldn’t be ecstatic about going to Vegas if they knew the outcome. It was dusk as I pulled up to the Motel. This is it? The vacancy sign flickers and gives an audible hum. I exit my Chrysler and my feet scrape on the grit of the parking lot. I travel up to the ramshackle motel’s check in office. I get my room from a delinquent-ass attendant and I wander to my room. My room is in the back, he claims so I don’t start any trouble. Fuck him. I clutch my bags and enter my dusty room. This room obviously hadn’t been rented in ages. I feel a bit fatigued and figure I’ll nap until my prey arrives. *** TWO HOURS LATER Haiden spits. “You fuck! You don’t know what you are doing!” “Oh yes I do Mr. Franklin.” The piano wire is tightly pressed upon his jugular. It rips slightly through the flesh and blood begins to drip. He struggles and spits some more hasty comments. I tighten up the wire. He bitches about his family and then his anger turns to dramatics. He begins to sob, I hate when this happens. It makes my job so much more frustrating. At this particular point I express my deep disappointment in the flailing fool. “I am so disappointed in you…” I chuckle and I give him some slack. “Have you learned your lesson?” “Yes! Please, I have a family!” I nod and sigh. My blade meets the back of his neck he spits some oxygen rich blood, it spatters on his windshield. As I remove the blade with a final thrust, he gasps. I slice his neck and blood spurts on the dash. I exit the car. The parking lot has three more cars parked than when I got here. I walk passed Haiden’s minivan and silently make my way up to the Franklin’s room. I screw the silencer on to my pistol and cock it, making not a sound. I knock on the door. “Your silly father must have forgotten the key, Jesus why the hell does he make all of those phone calls anyways? We’re on vacation Haiden!” Footsteps draw near and a sigh. “Haiden I’m coming…” |