neonthewrite:

Out in a room, hanging from the back of the nightstand, Oscar was frozen. The crumbs stuffed into his cloth bag were heavier than ever on his shoulder, and his hands gripped the lamp cord with white knuckles.

The room was supposed to be empty.

Check in time was long past. Any late arrivals, and he’d have heard them unlock the door. Would have felt heavy footsteps walking into the little motel room. The sun had already set outside and the lights were off.

But he wasn’t alone. Passing headlights had washed across the far wall and Oscar had seen it. The silhouette of a human.

This is from one of the prompts I’ve been working on for quite some time. Not because the story is especially long, but because other projects keep coming to me much easier than this one. I’m hoping to get some more of it done very soon, and I can finally share it.

Meanwhile … whose shadow could that be?