Day 2 - Room 51
🎲 Event: 6, Cause For Alarm
Today begins as the last one did: with a fire. A different room this time, three floors up. I meet this incident with duller surprise, though I can only wonder if a would-be arsonist has been let loose upon the motel.
🌫️ The motel has already inflicted a lasting change on my body. I am wary of sustaining any burns, even if it is my duty.
➕ I saw this scene before yesterday. I am ready.
➕ The cinder in my pocket calls to its brethren. I set it free so it might help coax the wild flames into submission.
⚙️ Cinder removed from inventory
🎲 Result: 7 (5+2)
Despite my confidence, or perhaps because of it, this time goes differently. Instead of immediately obeying my command, the flames pour forth their wretched black smoke until I'm left a coughing, bleary-eyed mess. I am able to bring it to submission eventually, but not without extensive damage to the room. No guest will be able to stay here, at least until the damage repairs itself tomorrow.
In the remaining ashes, I see a sinister shape take form. A monstrous serpent, coiling in a great spiral across the ruined carpet, live coals still burning in its eyes.
I clutch my clawed hand. I fear I will lose control soon.
💤 Marked 1 Tire
Day 2 - Room 62
🎲 Event: 10, Reflection
It feels like it's been ages since I set foot on the sixth floor. Sometimes it feels like nothing good ever happens there, even if I know the motel to be infinite, and thus such superstitions to be baseless. Regardless, when I hear shuffling noises coming from inside the room, I can't help but be on guard.
Inside is a copy of me. She wears the same frilled dress, but a long tail extends from the back of the skirt, waving in the air. I see patches of scales on her hands as they flit about to tidy the room. When she looks up at me, her eyes are blazing yellow, with slitted pupils. More scales color her face, though not enough to cover all of her human skin.
➕ This version of myself terrifies me. She makes no effort to hide her other side, yet she seems calm, even joyful in the way she moves.
➕ I need to ask her how she does it. How has she found happiness like this?
🎲 Result: 6 (4+2)
"How is this possible?" I ask. "How are you living this life so easily?"
The other me stares blankly for a tense few seconds. And then her face twists and morphs, jaw opening inhumanly wide to reveal rows of sharp teeth. She lets out a snake-like hiss and lunges forward.
My other side springs to life readily in the face of this equivalent power. I assume we clash, but my memory of the event is hazy. I wake up in another, unoccupied room with shallow cuts and bruises, feeling exhausted.
💤 Marked 1 Tire
Day 2 - Room 44
🎲 Event: 9, An Empty Room
The next room of the day... is empty. Not even a letter on the table. I hadn't been assigned to it, but I had a spare moment and decided to check on a more quiet room to see if anything needed doing. Mercifully, this one is untouched from the night before.
I take a seat on the corner of the bed and take a few minutes to simply feel the breath moving through my lungs. Cool air in, warm air out. No pressing crisis, only the faint sounds of guests moving through the other rooms around me.
In this precious respite, I decide to write to my sister.
Dear Anastasia,
I received the letter you left for me yesterday. I admit I wish you had sought me out personally, but I understand why you didn't. Has it really been fifteen years since we last saw each other, though? Time seems to work differently here in the Liberty Motel. These days, I know only my work. But it is of the utmost importance that I stay here. I'm sure you understand.
It brings me great joy to hear Alexander is doing well for himself. Can you tell me more of the man he's grown to be? Does he have hobbies? A partner? Has he healed many sick people? Please tell him that I love him and I miss him very much.
In addition, there is a question I wish to ask you. It may be difficult for you to consider, but it is important to me. When we were younger, was there ever an accident involving fire? I seem to remember someone... burning... but so many of my memories have become clouded with time. If there is any information you can share, please, do so. I love you very much.
Annabella
I don't know how exactly this letter will find its way to its recipient, but just as Anastasia's letter was guided to me, the motel has its ways.
Day 2 - Room 63
🎲 Event: 5, Surprisingly Stark
My assignments take me once again to the sixth floor. I put my ear to the door, but can make out no sounds. Upon entering, I see nothing -- no guests, no refuse, no evidence that anyone was ever here. Except... for another letter on the bedside table. It is sealed with wax, just like the first one. I pick it up with apprehension.
🌫️ This time is different from before. I have a sinking feeling that I am being watched.
➕ I am sure the room was occupied recently. I rarely set foot on this floor unless my duties require it of me.
🎲 Result: 10 (9+1)
Like the first time, the wax falls away with the barest resistance; I am sure this letter was meant for me. But when I unfold the paper, I find only a few stark words:
You cannot hide forever.
Placed on the corner of the letter is a simple drawing of a flower. A gladiolus, I realize. The sight of it sends a shiver down my spine, though I cannot place the source of the feeling. Before moving on to the next room, I burn the letter in the incinerator.
Day 2 - Room 31
🎲 Event: 1, Rites of the Faithful
Smoke trickles from the corners of the door before I've opened it, but the source is clearly different this time. There is no acrid stench, no irritation in my lungs. Only a pleasant, yet familiar scent. I open the door.
The inside of the room is largely obscured by dense, colored fog. A smell like incense invades my nose. Countless wax candles and open books cover every available surface in the room save the floor -- even the bed, and hard to reach places like the top of the wardrobe. A velvet cloak hangs in the closet; touching it makes an electric feeling course through my skin.
➕ I do believe in a greater power. Only the methodologies of the divine could give rise to a place such as the Liberty Motel.
🌫️ I have not prayed today. I rarely find time for it lately.
🎲 Result: 9 (8+1)
I decide to leave the cloak alone. The power it holds makes me anxious. Instead, I turn to the books; nestled in the pages of one sitting on the bedside table is a letter. The handwriting is short and jittery, written by a stiff and shaking hand. The author is anonymous, but they wrote to their father descriptions of the awful rituals they've endured while staying at the Liberty Motel. Bloodletting, self-mutilation, human sacrifice. All in service to something known only as "the Ash."
Like a slap in the face, I realize why the scent in the room is familiar to me. There are many types of incense in the cloud, but the thick of it comes from the gladiolus flower. I first smelled this when I was cursed. It was the Ash that did this to me.
I cannot recall why, though. Was I ever a follower of this specter, like the person who wrote this letter? Or was I a hapless victim of their rituals?
💤 Marked 1 Tire
Day 2 - Overnight
I lay in bed with half-formed memories and visions of the Ash's deadly rituals swirling in my head. Sleep takes my body, but my mind stays active with vivid dreams of brimstone and smoke. I wander through endless hallways, the air thick with ash that chokes my lungs. A bristly pressure drags me to the floor, and when I try to wrestle to my feet, I see the beasts from the motel pinning my chest and squeezing further air from my body. At first it's the one with matted fur and gangly limbs, its acidic drool singing my clothes. Then I blink and it's the ancient one that bit my hand, graying hair falling from its mottled skin even now.
I hear its voice between my ears, just like before. "You will join us," it says. "The Liberty Motel takes all in the end."
I wake with a terrible start. The air feels sluggish as I frantically try to breathe in and out. It is morning. I have work to do.
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