Harold squinted out of the windscreen while hunched over the steering wheel. The window wipers whipped back and fourth, hopelessy battling at the monsoon that fell from the night sky. He stopped the car outside the hotel. It was a dreary building, 3 stories built of red brick and timber cladding, sat sad and alone on perhaps an acre of overgrown, unloved land. A fluorescent sign flickered from a window on the ground floor, behind a yellowing, dead fly infested net curtain. The welcoming words of ‘Come on in, we have Vaccancies’ were lost and wasted against the uninviting building and surroundings.
The sound of the rain battering onto the roof of his car was almost deafening, he watched as rain water flowed from the roof of the old hotel and overflowed onto the entranceway due to clogged and unmaintained guttering. He grabbed his overnight bag from the passenger seat, opened the door and contemplated making a run for it.
“Well, here goes nothing”, he said as he stepped out into storm. His head exploded from the gunshot and his body fell to the ground in a lifeless heap, as the local Sheriff grinned and put his gun back into its holster.
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