The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!
The Ocean Park Motel
by Amanda Worthington
The Ocean Park Motel exists on the periphery of things
As the world shrinks around it, it grows
Somehow without dominating the landscape
Like the suffusion of sunlight before daybreak
And no one is quite sure how the neon in the sign still glows
The letters are like fire beckoning on a cold night
Welcoming and taunting in the same smoky breath
.
Despite the foreboding that gnaws at bones
Heavy with the trial of surviving
The Desperate ask no questions.
Relief washes over their faces when they see it
And agony chases it away just as fast
As they realize they have nothing with which to pay
.
That’s when he appears at the doorway, lantern raised
Invites them to join him as he sits down to dinner
He has a world-weary look about him, this bringer of light
Like he too has known exile from hope
And they are moved to trust him
.
He offers them each a room if they sign on the dotted line
Bellies full of bread and lies, the scrabble for the pen he produces
From the depths of his dark robe
.
The innkeeper collects his fee at a time of his choosing
In the currency he deems best
.
Do not ask me how I know.
.
I watched as their light dimmed
Could have sworn the sign grew brighter
As they were made to complete the tasks that unmoored them, left them husks
.
I tried to bring myself to brave the fierce cold again
So certain that I would be next
But as the wind burned my face, I wondered how bad it would really be
To be reduced as my cohabitants had been
.
That is when he came before me:
“The time has come. My price to stay is simple. You must give me what you are best at.”
I averted my gaze, but he knew – there was no way he could not.
.
“I haven’t done that in a long time. Not since the war,” I begged.
“Soldier, do not attempt to deceive the Great Deceiver. I know your heart.”
Flushed with anger, the old man grew bold
“Now slaughter them or face the eternal cold.”
.
And as I awaken in the frigid dark where once I dreamed the sun struggled to rise
I try to recall what choice I made
And search for some vestige of my soul in this wasteland.
.
The crunching of snow announces her approach.
Instinctually, I draw my knife and raise my hand to do what I am best at
To see if it can be done
And then our eyes meet.
.
She does not look damned
.
The knife falls to the dying earth
And I choose the Hell of never knowing
.
Fiction © Copyright Amanda Worthington.
Image courtesy of Pixabay

Wicked Deeds: Witches, Warlocks, Demons and Other Evil Doer’s
Sometimes wicked people do wicked things simply because they can… The twelve stories in Wicked Deeds tell tales of witches and warlocks with ill intent, devilish demons bent on destruction, and other doers of evil who make the world a terrifying place. What is a mother to do when her daughter is gifted but lives under the thumb of her fanatical preacher husband who will brook no talk of the supernatural? What of a demon so desperate to free himself of a trap that he will force another to repeat his atrocities and condemn a young boy to his demonic fate? Or maybe the story of a crotchety old witch with a score to settle against the town she lives in is more to your liking – what evil will the seemingly harmless town-crazy call upon when faced with an ultimatum? If you’re looking for wicked people with supernatural abilities doing wicked things, this is the collection for you!














A superb poem.
Nicely done, and I really liked that open ending.
Really enjoyed this poem – and what a line this is “Like the suffusion of sunlight before daybreak” – so clever.