The Iron Writer Weekend Quickie #38

motelThe Iron Writer Weekend Quickie #38

One Picture

One Element

One Emotion

200 Words

El Rancho Motel

An Arrowhead


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14 thoughts on “The Iron Writer Weekend Quickie #38

  1. Inside Room 13
    “The thing,” I said, “is that most small town cops think they know how to solve a murder. They don’t, not when half the evidence is gone. Trust me. Take me for example. I’m a cop, well, you think I am. I look like one don’t I? I mean you trusted me enough when you saw me in the parking lot, so I must be, eh? But I digress. Here’s the deal. You lie there all trussed up nice and quiet while I cross the street to that rock store on the corner. They have a nice selection of Navajo arrowheads in the window. You know the kind. Chipped black obsidian, sharper than a razor blade. By the time the only cop on duty in this god forsaken hamlet gets there after I break the window, I will be back here to play with that pretty, simply delicious throat of yours. Rather serendipitous the rock store and this no star motel are so convienent, eh? Back in a flash. I’m starving. You?”

  2. Javier opened the door to room 14 at the El Rancho motel. The TV was still on and John Cusack was saying something snarky. Javier wheeled his cleaning cart in and stopped.

    On the floor beside the bed was a man with an arrow sticking out of the back of his head. The arrowhead oozed black with blood. Javier stepped over a gun lying next to the body, it had a silencer on it. A woman was sprawled on the bed with three holes in her chest clutching a crossbow. Both wore dressy clothes. On the bedside table sat a black duffle bag. Javier walked over to it.

    Inside were bricks of cash. Lots of them. Javier’s eyes grew wide. He picked up the bag and turned around as another cleaning cart rolled in.

    “Mira, Melinda. Mucha dinero.” Javier held open the bag towards a Hispanic woman pushing the cart.

    “Oh Javy,”she cried and ran over to see inside the bag. She paid no attention to the bodies in the room.

    “With this money, we can quit this place and go live on the beach. This, this is serendipity isn’t it?” asked Melinda.

    Javier stared blankly at the TV, lost in thought.

    “No. Grosse Pointe Blank.”

  3. The arrowhead sticking out above the number 16 announced trouble. Detective Brad Shaw eased the motel room door open and creeped into the darkness, carpet wet underfoot. No movement but the bathroom light flickering, door closed. He made out two bodies, one splayed out on the floor, the other hanging over the bed, motionless.
    “We n’de ya ho, We n’de ya ho, We n’de ya, We n’de ya ho ho ho ho…”
    Brad moved closer to the light, taking up a position behind a chair, gun pointing towards what he recognised as singing.
    “Police! Come on out with your hands up!” Where was his backup, Lance?
    “He ya ho, He ya ho, Ya ya ya!”
    Brad’s lumbering partner walked in with a burrito from the El Rancho’s restaurant in one hand and his gun limp in the other.
    “Whatta we got, partner?”
    The bathroom door flew open, hinges splintering, light filling the room to reveal a large Native American, war paint and all, string taut and bow loaded.
    “You gotta heap big angry chief!”
    An arrow cut through Lance like butter and he fell, the burrito rolling over to the chair where Brad hid.
    “Oh, what serendipity!” he exclaimed. “Chorizo!”

  4. “Hope for the hopeless”

    This was getting old, this wandering from town to town; trying to find my way back into society. I sat down under a large sign for a drugstore and looked up and down the night-time street scene. So much casual activity, and yet I felt so utterly alone, and isolated. “What’s the point?” I pondered, “What’s the point of anything?” I was ready to give up, for good, but in shear desperation I muttered, “Help me out, God; if you’re real, like they say.”

    No sooner had I spoke those words, but my eyes focused on an Indian arrowhead lying on the ground; right there at my feet! I looked up to see what it was pointing at, and saw a man closing up the hardware store across the street.

    It was a long shot, but I walked up, and introduced myself. In the ensuing conversation, he not only offered me a motel room for the night, but told me to come back in the morning and he would find some work for me.

    That was ten years ago. Today I’ve got an apartment, a car, and I’m being promoted to assistant manager in the hardware store. That’s why I wear the arrowhead on this necklace, and I thank God every day for His provision.

    Well, that’s my story, but hey, I’ve got to get going or I’ll be late picking up Helen; she works in the diner just down the street.

  5. “How is a Native American arrowhead like a cheap motel room?” Sal asked me.

    “Dunno, boss. How?”

    “Both can really piss a white man off.” He scowled at the El Rancho Motel and Restaurant’s neon sign as we pulled into the lot.

    We’d been on the road too long. Sal usually got grouchy about halfway through our tours, talking smack about the natives, the lack of proper nutrition at rest areas, and getting increasingly irritated by the no-star hotels we crashed in every night.

    “Let me take care of this one,” I said. “You grab some grub.”

    He harrumphed into his mustache and headed for the diner.

    I hit up the front desk, armed with my Platinum AmEx.

    “Sorry, we’re all full up,” the guy behind the counter greeted me.

    “Name’s Johnny Whitefeather. We’ve got a reservation,” I said.

    “I bet you do. Guess it’s your lucky day. Sheraton’s just up the road a piece.”

    I raised an eyebrow. Sal and I never stayed in fancy joints like that. At least I had the AmEx.

    “Serendipity,” I told Sal, back in the car, which smelled of burritos.

    He just grunted and put it in gear.

  6. I hate travelling without reservations. It becomes a tedious chore every evening to find a motel that doesn’t smell and near enough to a restaurant where you don’t get food poisoning. But after last night, I think my days as a salesman are about over.

    That night I was desperate, hungry and tired. Small town but The El Something-or-other flashed its neon at me. Serendipity: it also had a restaurant.

    I hastily downed a burger (reluctantly impressed), grabbed my key and headed to bed, smelly or not.

    Not, as it happened. My head hit the pillow and I was away to the Land of Nod.

    Very late, I heard my wife come in and I sleepily cuddled up to her.

    When I awoke, I was not home; I was in that El Something motel and…that wasn’t my wife.

    A befuddled man sat up in bed beside me and shrieked.

    He stole my line.

    So…another on the list.
    1. Not smelly
    2. Near a restaurant without food poisoning
    3. A fool-proof key system

    After we took turns in the tiny bathroom to change and brush teeth, we shook hands and, without looking back, headed to our cars.

    Thank goodness he was arrowhead straight.

  7. A weird encounter
    Danielle Lee Zwissler
    We were lying on the bed watching Serendipity when there was a knock on the door. Carolyn and I just looked at each other, and then got up. We were staying in Encino California at the El Rancho Motel. It wasn’t the greatest place in the world, but it was cheap, and decently clean. Carolyn looked through the peep hole and then back at me. “I don’t know who it is?”
    “Um, I think you have the wrong room.”
    “IS this Alan Clark?”
    “No,” I answered. “It is not, you definitely have the wrong room.”
    “What about Elsa Torence?”
    “Um,” I looked at Carolyn and then back at the peephole, “No, still the wrong room.”
    “Okay, then is it Micah Longthorn?”
    Shocked, I looked at Carolyn once more, and then back through the hole. The man was no longer there, but I heard his words as clear as day. “Never forget.”
    “That’s weird,” I said, a bit weirded out by the whole thing. We both went back to bed, a bit more alert than the night before.
    The next morning, we got ready and talked about how paranoid we were, and how we shouldn’t have let the stranger keep us from getting sleep. We packed up our things and headed out, and on the other side of the door there was a package and a note. I swallowed, worried about what was in the box. The card read: Never forget who you are and where you come from.
    In the box, there was only one thing, an arrowhead.

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