Tuesday, November 25, 2014

Excerpt from The Night Places

This is from Chapter 2 of the novel I am currently writing/editing entitled "The Night Places" which is based on (actually a continuation of) a short-story I wrote a while ago.

I wake up on the floor at 5:30 and turn on the TV to make sure there’s no Godzilla attack going on. There isn’t, there’s just lots of coverage of the last one. I finally get to see the thing falling. I didn’t think it was so light out when that happened. The thing fell so hard, I’m surprised more buildings didn’t fall when it hit the ground.

Siri is still asleep on the bed. I think I’ve had enough of this nonsense. I put on my shoes quietly, tiptoe to the door, and undo the latch. It sounds like a hammer in the quiet room, even with the TV on. I start to twist the doorknob, and then here the actual sound of a hammer. I turn around.

Siri is pointing a gun at me. It’s a small semi-automatic pistol, and I swear to God, the entire thing is pink. She is pointing a pink gun at me.

“Good morning,” I say.

“Good morning,” she says back, still pointing the gun at me, “Are you leaving?”

“No, just going to the bathroom,” I say. The hotel room doesn’t have a bathroom. Just a men’s room and a ladies’ room at the end of the hall.

“Oh,” she says, lowering the gun, “okay.”

I walk out of the room and head directly down the stairs. I walk out the front door and hear a “twang” sound above me. I look up, and the flagpole coming off the building is vibrating. Then I hear a thump in front of me. I look forward. Siri is crouching, ninja style, with a samurai sword out, on top of a car parked in front of the hotel. There’s a hipster guy with a leashed dog on the sidewalk, staring at her.

“Um,” I say after a beat, “hi Siri.”

“Go back into the hotel,” she says.

I look back up at the flagpole. It’s still vibrating. I see the open third story window that… Siri… jumped… out of? This is getting ridiculous.

I look back at Siri, see the glint of the streetlight on the katana, see the passive look on her face. The way I see it now, I can do what she says, deal with this acid-trip of a situation, or I can walk away, and risk being A) decapitated by a teenage girl or B) killed by a pink gun. I never really wondered what Alice felt like falling down the rabbit hole, but it had to be pretty similar to this. I make my decision.

“You got it,” I say, giving her thumbs up. I turn back around, and head into the hotel.

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