Murder At The Monty

By Phoenix Pastrama

Welcome to the first story of the ever expanding corridors of the Monty. In this short thriller, you will follow Wilson room to room as he tries to find his way out with his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9781638819981

Book preview

MURDER

AT THE

MONTY

Phoenix Pastrama

Copyright © 2022 Phoenix Pastrama

All rights reserved

First Edition

NEWMAN SPRINGS PUBLISHING

320 Broad Street

Red Bank, NJ 07701

First originally published by Newman Springs Publishing 2022

ISBN 978-1-63881-997-4 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63881-998-1 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

To everyone who helped make this over the years

CONTENTS

Chapter 1: Wrong Turn

Chapter 2: Strange Things Are Occurring

Chapter 3: Enter the Wenlin

Chapter 4: Shadows of Older Times

Chapter 5: Do You Hear What I Hear?

Chapter 6: Abyss

Chapter 7: Final Moments

Chapter 8: From the Other Side of the Glass

CHAPTER 1

Wrong Turn

A cool night breeze blew through the open car window across my face. The car’s headlights barely illuminated the road ahead of me. As I continued my lonesome drive, my eyelids began to feel like lead. I knew that I needed to pull over. I spotted a dimly lit sign farther down, and as I drove closer, I was able to read out Motel, with a sentence or two following it but was too tired to make it out.

About a quarter mile more down the road, the motel’s light shone through the darkness like a beacon of relief. As I turned into the parking lot, there were but two other cars: a red Mercedes Benz and a dark-gray Ford Explorer. I parked the car close toward the entrance to the motel.

Leaving the car, I examined the motel while walking up the cement path toward the entrance. The size was unusual for a motel, as it was three stories tall made of red brick with a shingle roof and neatly trimmed shrubberies on either side of the oak door. That wasn’t even the strangest part of the place. I opened the door and walked inside. The concrete path below my feet turned into a soft blue carpet with butterfly designs on it.

The waiting room was a round room with big windows looking out over the dark parking lot. The ceiling stood about four or five feet above my head. It was a neat and tidy room with nothing out of place. A coffee table sat in front of a blue couch that matched the floor but without the butterfly designs.

On the coffee table were a few coasters and a perfectly stacked pile of magazines. The top one read, How to make the most of yourself, with a picture of a happy family on the cover of it. I turned away from it and toward the reception desk. The desk was made of what looked like mahogany and stretched from one side of the room to the other and a swinging door with brass hinges on the end.

I made my way to the desk and looked past the countertop. On the wall across from where I stood were keys on hooks that had numbers on little black plaques with gold letters beneath them. The keys reached from near the floor at about waist height to the ceiling. Everything about the room was exquisite except for a dark crack in the ceiling about half a foot wide. Someone should get that fixed, I thought to myself.

I looked away from the crack as