Marston drove into the small town square about thirty minutes after leaving that really creepy old bat back at the station.

Looking around, he spotted a flickering motel sign a little ways ahead.

On the way to the motel, he spotted a couple of convenience stores and a bank. He was going to have to get some money, and he knew the bank was out of the question, so he focused on the two convenience stores, studying their layout, their size, and other things he would need to know if he meant to rob them…

Which he did, for the money he had taken off of the truck driver was running out.

Marston pulled up to the motel office, then got out and went in and paid for three days in advance.

Before leaving the office, he looked the clerk right in the eyes, telling him that under no circumstances was he to be disturbed for anything…that anyone that did would get the crap beat out of them.

Once he located the room, he pulled into the slot in front of it, then got out and took just long enough to grab the duffel bag from the trunk.

Those bags held had the gun and spare ammo clips. He grabbed the two plastic bags of snacks and drinks he had gotten at the creepy station as well and then went inside.

Entering the room, he set the bags on the floor, then bent over the duffel bag and reached in to get the spare hunting knife.

He turned to the door and locked the chain and button on the door and then drove the knife blade into the door jamb as an extra guarantee that he wouldn’t be disturbed.

Turning from the door, he reached down and picked up the bags and took them over near the bed, sitting them down on the floor by the leg of the nightstand, within easy reach.

Reaching into the duffel bag he pulled out the gun and his hunting knife. After placing the gun within easy reach on the nightstand, he placed the knife beneath the pillow. He stood only long enough to remove his jacket and toss it over the back of the only chair in the room, then lay down.

He was asleep nearly before his head hit the pillow.

Marston slept through that entire day, not moving an inch, lying there almost like a corpse, and far into the following night.

The whispers woke him at midnight, calling his name. Moving for the first time since he had lain down, he began to twist and toss as the nightmare came again.

It was always the same…a sensation of falling for what seemed like forever, then landing to find himself surrounded by a circle of eerily glowing red eyes and glimpses of skeletal hands reaching for him.

And each time those dreams came, those eyes grew larger and those hands grew closer to touching him.

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About MARANTHA DREAMWEAVER JENELLE

WRITER'S USE WORDS TO PAINT PICTURES ON THE CANVASES OF THEIR READER'S MINDS. marantha d. jenelle/aka 'maradjen'

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