Andrew Parker had finally received his dream job as a sports journalist. Ever since he was a kid, he dreamed of being able to travel the world and being the first to report stories on America’s favorite athletes. Ever since he was a child, Andrew loved sports, and his mother always said that if he was not going to be in the game, he definitely was going to be reporting on it. After he graduated college, Andrew flew out to Los Angeles for a job offer working in an office, primarily getting coffee and donuts for all the workers. He wanted nothing more than to be the one reporting the stories, not the guy who is ultimately everyone’s servant. He finally got the opportunity to report on a story when one of the reporters had fallen ill. After Andrew’s
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It was so late in the night that Andrew had no choice but to check into a local motel. The motel’s sign barely had its letters hanging on, to the point where you could barely read its name: “The Edgar Resort Inn.” The building had pieces falling off on every corner, a very unsettling town really. As Andrew regretfully walked into the main lobby, an older, masculine woman checked him in. It was only fifty dollars a night, so Andrew handed over the money and collected his keys; his room number was six. “Have a great- night” she said, in a sarcastic tone. As he walked his way towards the room, he noticed there was not a person in sight. His room was like something you would see out a creepy horror film; your typical cheap, dusty room with peeling paint, a musty smell and dirty, opaque windows. To top it all off, his room was the only one with its actual room number on the front, every other one was not labeled. He laid down in the dingy bed and finally was able to calm himself down. “I must be overreacting.” Andrew thought to himself, as he gathered himself for bed. “This is just alarming because I’m not from here, there’s nothing actually wrong with this place.” As he looked around he got more and more concerned with his room. Creepy paintings hanging up on every wall, rust on just about any metal you could find, and the musky stench suddenly became
It was so late in the night that Andrew had no choice but to check into a local motel. The motel’s sign barely had its letters hanging on, to the point where you could barely read its name: “The Edgar Resort Inn.” The building had pieces falling off on every corner, a very unsettling town really. As Andrew regretfully walked into the main lobby, an older, masculine woman checked him in. It was only fifty dollars a night, so Andrew handed over the money and collected his keys; his room number was six. “Have a great- night” she said, in a sarcastic tone. As he walked his way towards the room, he noticed there was not a person in sight. His room was like something you would see out a creepy horror film; your typical cheap, dusty room with peeling paint, a musty smell and dirty, opaque windows. To top it all off, his room was the only one with its actual room number on the front, every other one was not labeled. He laid down in the dingy bed and finally was able to calm himself down. “I must be overreacting.” Andrew thought to himself, as he gathered himself for bed. “This is just alarming because I’m not from here, there’s nothing actually wrong with this place.” As he looked around he got more and more concerned with his room. Creepy paintings hanging up on every wall, rust on just about any metal you could find, and the musky stench suddenly became