The days faded into nights as the tics turned into tocs on my watch. The cool wind on my hair kept my weakening gaze open and focused on this desolate dark desert highway, forcing me to rethink everything that led up to this, over and over with no end. Anger had gotten me this far, but as the anger dissipated and my regret settled, I felt more and more the need to double back and fix the broken life I had left behind.
I distracted myself with anything I could, settling on a shimmering light up ahead in the distance. From afar, the light was a beacon, giving me a sense of direction and hope in my otherwise uncertain state. As I approached, a tall building slowly emerged from the darkness around this beacon. I pulled into an empty parking lot and got out of the car, looking around for any sign of life. There was nothing else in sight, no gas stations, no houses, no huts, no stores, only this enormous building with no sign to indicate its purpose, only dull grey walls and evenly spaced layers of windows through which no light escaped. I walked towards the entrance and found the beacon which had led me here, a neon light which read ‘OPEN’ hanging skewed directly over the top of the pitch black front doors. Its light seemed to shudder in fear under the building it serviced every night. The sign was intended as a welcoming feature, but the more I fixated on its flickering, on and off and off and on, my instinct told to run from this place. I had not slept for days and food at this point was more a hallucination than a reality, I had to go in.
A ringing bell dinged from behind the doors just before they swung open. There she stood on the doorway, a young woman with light hair and even lighter eyes, she said nothing nor had to, as I could spend an eternity looking at her. I gazed into her eyes while thinking, “this could be heaven or this could be hell”. She lit up a candle, turned, and showed me the way through corridors which turned with no apparent order. A low recording could be heard through the halls, carrying a distorted message hidden in static and broken rhythm:

  Welcome to th-
  such a lovely pla-
  such a lovely place
  - of room at the Ho-
  any time of ye-
  -you can find it here.

She stopped in the middle of a hall and opened a door, then signaled me to go in. I walked through the doorway and turned to look at her once more. Her name was Tiffany, or so it said on her nametag, and she had the same twisted smile as my wife did when we met. That smile which had boys losing their minds over who she called friends. That first summer we had danced in the courtyard and agreed we’d always remember that moment, now, all I wanted was to forget. After closing the door, I realized I’d followed her blindly into an empty hotel room, with only a lumpy bed, one rigid armchair, one uneven table, on which a phone sat with only one button, all black, and flickering lamps. I tightened the lightbulbs hoping the sickening flickering would stop, but it only made them worse. I shut it all off and laid in bed hoping to get some sleep, but flashbacks flooded the dark; my wife crying in the kitchen, glass covered the tiled floor from the portraits I’d broken moments before. I stumbled downstairs with my suitcase in one hand and my ‘lucky’ flask in the other. We could’ve stilled pulled through at that time if I hadn’t walked out, if I hadn’t run like a rabid coward.
I jumped out of bed and dialed the single button on the phone. A stern voice answered, the same voice from the recordings.
-“Nightman.”
-“Could I get some room service?”
-“Yes”
-“Thank god, okay, please bring me some wine.”
-“We haven’t had that spirit here since nineteen sixty nine”
-“Well then bring me anything, rum, tequila, vodka god damnit, anything”
-“Yes.”
Moments after, the self-proclaimed ‘Nightman’ knocked on my door and handed me a bottle with no label, only a clear liquid in it. I thanked the man and closed the door shut. I was skeptical and reluctant at first, yet I still took a big swig from the unknown bottle. It worked faster than anything I’d ever drank, skipping my usual reckless rants straight into passing out.
I woke up to the intercom recordings which had grown louder, still calling from far away in the corridors. It was dark out, I had probably slept through the day. I looked at the bottle which lay empty on the ground; What did that f***er give me?
2  loud knocks came from my door, I grabbed the bottle as a club and approached. Not knowing what I was expecting, I peered through the eyehole and saw Tiffany. The same crooked smile, the same light eyes staring right back into mine.
- “I’m here to escort you.”
- “Escort me? I’m not going anywhere.”
- “The feast is starting, you are coming.”
- “I’m not coming out until check-out”
I bolted the door shut and sat down to wait, bottle in hand. The door swung open in an instant and Tiffany stood there with her crooked smile, staring. I stood instantly and held the bottle high, then it shattered in my hand, shards cutting my hand and dripping blood over the carpet.
- “Come now.”
She gestured for me to walk, her crooked smile vanished, and her eyes morphed into pitch black spheres. Her eyes twitched slightly, imitating the flickering of the lights, and she gestured once more before I followed. She took me to a floor with a single set of doors, through them, a wide room with white empty walls, mirrors on the ceiling, and pink champagne on ice all over. A gathering sat around a circular table, on which all kinds of food stood, untouched.
- “Am I a prisoner here? Or can I go?”
- “We are all just prisoners here, of our own device”
A door in the back of the room opened and a giant hog walked in, it's eyes had been gouged out and its tusks mutilated. They branded the beast with a fire pike and sent it running around the room. It ran into the walls and tables, shrieking in rage and fear. The guests cheered in amusement as their dinner charged aimlessly, they lunged and stabbed it with their steely knives, but they just can’t kill the beast.
Tiffany joined the crowd, and I saw an opening. I ran back the same way she had brought me, I had to find the passage back to the place I was before. I had allowed rage to blind me and I had ended up in this wretched place, I need to leave. The lights flickered now more than ever, and after many turns I found my way back to the entrance. I reached for the handle, but instantly released it as it was burning hot. I felt fear overtake me, felt myself panicking. I could hear steps from behind me, I had to get back to my wife. When I turned, I saw the nightman alongside Tiffany walking towards me, both with the same pitch black eyes staring into mine. I uncontrollably sobbed and begged to be let go.
“I just want to check out- I just want to leave”
“Relax”, said the nightman, “We are programmed to receive. You can check-out any time you like, but you can never leave.”