The bright MOTEL sign lures travelers, yet the word VACANCY buzzes with electric warning. The warning is too little and too late. Only the desperate find their way to the Lunar Motel.
A family wagon parks among the other vehicles, a food truck, a sedan, a pickup loaded with all manner of trash and treasure. A weary father exits the wagon, the noise of cranky children spills out after him. He takes an overdue breath of fresh air. Distant screams spoil the first moment of peace he’s had in days. Is that some kind of riot? No. It’s surely the echoes of a wild party in nearby Crow Hollow.
He glances past a row of odd scarecrows to spot bonfires beyond the tree line. He wishes he had the time and energy to party as he turns toward the Motel office. He pauses mid stride. The row of scarecrows is gone. They must have fallen down. He shuffles into the office.
The promise of a bed has given him tunnel vision. Neither the ghastly taxidermy, nor the sickly face of the leering proprietor raises red flags. This weary father is on autopilot. He scribbles his name in the guest book and takes the strangely cold and clammy room key. “Blessed Samhain to you and yours.” the haggard manager croaks as he lumbers off. Forget the suitcases. Heck, he’ll let the kids tire themselves out fighting in the car. He doesn’t bother to turn on the room light as he enters. He just collapses into bed with only darkness for a blanket. Sleep takes him.
He wakes screaming. Someone was strangling him! He discovers a beaded necklace around his neck. He doesn’t care how the new bauble got there, he just knows he has to get out. He opens the door to find a wall of scarecrows blocking his exit. Their lifeless eyes radiate hunger and malevolent intelligence. His trembling fingers find a light switch. Unhealthy yellow light flickers on to reveal peeling and moldy walls, his bed a decayed lump crawling with beetles. He shrieks, charging ahead in blind panic. The scarecrows part to let him pass. He takes several twists and turns. His surroundings make no sense. Where is he? He should be outside.
He finds himself wandering deeper into an impossible maze of weirdly connected motel rooms. Each chamber holds more unspeakable horrors than the last. He dares not turn back. What lies ahead can’t be worse than what pursues him– or so he prays.
What became of this poor fellow? Check in at the Lunar Motel and find out for yourself. We have a rich history, and we’d love to make you part of it.
