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one-hundred-fifty-three-word story

It was 10:48 pm, after 17 hours of driving, when Hugo arrived at the hotel. He rubbed his face as he surveyed what would be his home for the next month, before finally letting out a tired sigh. The whole town seemed generic, and not at all as his travel agent had described.

Hugo dragged his two suitcases up to the front desk. Maybe he’d eventually be able to write without relying on his three favourite typewriters, but today wasn’t that day.

He rang the desk bell. Hugo fidgeted as he waited and checked his cell phone for messages. No signal. Worse still, no one had come to the desk.

He slapped the bell a couple of times.

There was a key on the desk. Room 823.

And a mug of coffee. Full. And cold.

Hugo looked around cautiously, but grinned. Maybe this would be the perfect place to finish his mystery novel.

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There are 1 Comments to "one-hundred-fifty-three-word story"

  • Alexis says:

    Mike,

    These stories keep getting better and better. I love the twist of bad customer service equalling a good hideout for a writer!

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