The stained door opens with an awful screech, revealing the cluttered motel April must reside in for the next few weeks. The elderly attendant glances in April’s direction, as if gauging her reaction to the trashed room, and when she doesn’t show any signs of complaint, he drops an old brass key into her hand with the number ‘42’ etched into its muddled surface. As the attendant’s heavy footsteps fade, April puts the old key into the small pocket of her jeans and enters the dark room. Reaching around the wall, she finds a plastic switch. She flicks it upward and… nothing. She tries it again…still nothing. After a few more tries a flickering light finally fills the room allowing April to see just how ransacked the place is. According to the attendant, the previous resident had been a real piece of work, clearly, he was right.
Blank papers crowd the room, their edges yellow with age. Hundreds of these sheets poke out of corners, pile under furniture, and hide behind worn cushions. The walls flash a dull grey blending with the equally dull bed and desk. Wires lay about the room tunneling into various holes in the walls, they connect to an old AC box, a washing machine, a dryer, an old box tv, and some short desk lamps. The air in the room feels stiff and uncomfortably warm, so April makes her way over to the old AC box. Its off-white color is barely visible under the grey dust that covers its surface. She fumbles around until she finds a switch on its underside, but when she tries to push on it, it doesn’t budge. After a few more attempts to turn on the air, April frustratedly gives up and moves to the old brown couch, pillows that once sat on it are strewn about the floor. She scoops down to grab one, then situates herself on the couch with the pillow and lays facing the ceiling, it isn’t comfortable, and the AC unit is situated just above her head, but April is exhausted and soon falls asleep.
It’s 3:14 in the morning, and April wakes to the AC unit rumbling above her head, the room now has a slight chill in the air. Clumps of dust float down onto April’s face as she looks up at it. That’s when she sees it. The switch had been flipped on. Her stomach drops and her chest tightens. She feels nervousness grip her mind and body, suddenly every shadow is somewhat human shaped, and every glint of light in the window is a pair of watchful eyes. She shakily stands and walks carefully over to the desk, where she turns on one of the desk lamps. As light fills the room her fear dissolves a bit, as no one seems to be in the room with her. She goes back to the couch and looks back up at the AC unit and reaches for the switch, it flicks off with no problems. April decides that she must have turned on the AC last night and that she had just forgotten, but the sinking feeling that possibly someone could have been in her room while she slept stays with her as she lays back down on the couch, hardly sleeping for the rest of the night. When April wakes up, she decides to clean up all the trash in the room. Though it’s a grueling task, she manages to sweep up all of the paper and fix all of the furniture. She doesn’t mess with the wires though, as she doesn’t want to mess with the already worn-down appliances. Finally, everything seems to look relatively good, and she is able to go to work.
The door opens with the same awful screech as April staggers back into the room. Exhausted from countless meetings and work, she walks over to the desk to set her purse down. Before she can take a seat, however, a white flash in the corner of her eye catches her attention. Looking closer, it seems to be one of the papers that were on the floor before. But she is sure that she had cleaned up all the papers this morning, there shouldn’t be any left. The paper is taped to the AC unit with bright blue duct tape. April climbs onto the couch, standing up to reach the note, and plucks it from the whirring machine. As she sits down on the couch, she finally gets a good look at what the paper says:
10:20 am: Gas Station
10:30 am: Oleson Manufacturing
7:20 pm: Pete’s Pizza
8:00 pm: Pharmacy
8:40 pm: HOME
April’s body sinks into the couch as her mind spirals, the neatly written words blur as her eyes begin to swell with tears and her hands start to shake. The glints in the window stare her down, the creaks from the rooms next door are closer than usual and the AC breathes in her ears. She crumples the paper in her hand and throws it to the floor. She blocks out the window with pieces of paper and blocks the door with the chair by the old desk. She barricades herself into the room and decides that she isn’t going to sleep tonight, she is almost certain that she is being stalked and she isn’t going to let herself be alone and unconscious with a potential threat around. This doesn’t last, however, as the exhaustion overtakes her, and she passes out on the couch.
It’s 10:12 and April wakes up to the loud hum of the washing machine, it thumps and rumbles as it violently shakes. She gets off the couch and approaches the whirring machine, she didn’t remember doing any laundry last night. She pried the door open, and the machine squealed in return as she pulled out a soaked dress shirt and matching pants. She then reaches in and pulls out a pair of work boots. Realization sinks into her as she realizes that these clothes do not belong to her. Though, strangely they are her exact size. She doesn’t have time to think about this, as she has to be at work at 10:30, so she quickly gets dressed and leaves.
The door opens with an awful screech as April stumbles into the room, drenched from head to toe as rain pours outside. Flashes of lightning flood the room illuminating a note taped onto the washing machine.
10:30 am: Oleson Manufacturing
7:30 pm: Takeout
8:00 pm: Pharmacy
8: 40 pm: HOME
She feels herself numbing as she questions whether any of this is even real. She doesn’t even take the note from the washing machine and looks over to the window. The papers she had used to cover the window are all ripped down and scattered along the floor. April is just so tired; she doesn’t have the energy to deal with any of this. So, she changes out of her work clothes -lazily throwing them in the washing machine- and goes to sleep on the couch.
It’s 5:40 in the morning and April wakes up to absolute silence. No appliances are running, and no sound reaches her ears. The room is eerily still, the shadows are lifeless, and the windows do not stare. April feels more creeped out by the silence than anything else, as she expects something to be wrong. She stands up from the couch and turns on the desk lamp, but no lights come on. Confused, she tries the light switch on the wall, still nothing. She notices the wires that were once dangling from the walls are now lined up on the floor. The lead from the washing machine, the AC box, the lamps, the lights, and the TV to the old bed. The bed that April hadn’t slept in since she had arrived at the motel. The wires lead underneath the bed and over the back, leading her eyes to the yellowish pillow at the head of the bedframe. Underneath the pillow lays a dirty video camera, its blinking red light signifying it recording. April’s heart beats in her ears, her chest tightens as the glints in the window turn to stare, the shadows mock and follow her. She takes the camera and puts it in her bag, she doesn’t want to look at it, she doesn’t want this to be real. She grabs all of her belongings and opens the door to leave, as she turns to close the door behind her the room is illuminated by the lamp post outside, revealing hundreds of notes taped onto the walls and appliances, all with that bright blue tape.
April quickly makes her way to the attendant’s desk, and when she sees that the old man isn’t there, she puts the key on the desk and leaves to motel. As she drives, the overwhelming anxiety that she held while residing in the motel dims a little. She calls her sister and explains her situation, after which, her sister agrees to let her stay with her. She calls her work and explains that she is going to take time off and can’t stay the next few weeks, then lastly, she calls the police and explains everything to them. They end up filing a report for her which eases her mind a little.
A few weeks later the doorbell rings at April’s sister’s house, and when April goes to check she is met with a filthy looking plastic bag with an old brass key inside and a piece of paper taped to the side. Looking closer at the key she recognizes the number ‘42’ etched into its surface. And on the back is a note that reads ‘10:12 am: 55 Thames Avenue’ with same neat handwriting and bright blue tape.
