“One room please.”

Ashton stood at the counter, bag swung over his right shoulder. I was rushing towards him after paying the cab. We practically blew fifty dollars roaming around town seeking that “vacancy” sign.

“Preferably two beds.” I hinted loudly to the receptionist who was helping us. Her expression was as dark as the worn down room that surrounded us. Spiderweb like wrinkles hung below her dull and sunken in eyes.

We could not have stopped in a worse city at a worse time: Orlando, Florida. The not-so-sunshiney state. There was a baseball game or basketball, whichever the man said whom we ran into earlier had mentioned in his hurry. On top of that, a storm hung over head, not every willing to move, and it was the heat of vacationing season, mid-June. Disneyland was swarmed with families eager to get ripped off.

“Lucky you.” The receptionist waved off the groaning line of five families behind us. “You got the last room.” She paused entering a comment into the computing system with the click of a single key. “Down the hall are the stairs. You’re on floor three, room 317. One bed.” The receptionist tossed the keys to the counter top, the weight of the single key that lead, drug it off the counter top and to the floor.

Ashton reluctantly paid and thanked the receptionist after snatching the keys off the stained floor. I readjusted my backpack, the sleeve of my jacket sliding off my opposite shoulder. A cool, unearthly breeze ran across my uncovered skin. I cringed.

“Doesn’t this place freak you out?” Ash seemed unphased, so I had to ask.

A whisper was the response. “Of course it does. I’m just trying to remain polite until I’m out of sight.”

We turned a corner.

“Yeah this place is weird.” Ash admitted. “But, at least we have a place to stay the night. It’s better than the streets.”

“I’d almost prefer the streets.”

We reached the elevator. Ash pressed the button, which flickered yellow at the applied pressure.

“No.” I snarled at Ash, and pulled him along the hall to the stairwell. I knew what he was thinking- ‘Getting stuck in the elevator might save us from the unnerving nature of the room’.

The short walk of three flights of stairs drug on due to the haunting paranoia of spiders dangling from the ceiling, or the fact that we had a legitimate chance of finding a murdered, and decaying body around the corner. At floor three, my heart skipped a beat or two when Ash couldn’t get the stairwell door to open. Apparently, it was a push door, not a pull one.

The hallway smelt bad, but thank cheeseburgers our room was directly to the left of the starwell. A weird smoke like substance seeped out of the room next to us, which Ash almost immediately identified as weed. I asked him if we could get high off the fumes. He didn’t answer.

The room itself wasn’t horrible… besides the fact that there wasn’t one clean towel, other than hand towels, a full trash can with… was that blood or just really nasty earwax? Grime coated the top layer of bedsheet, which was shed immediately, a broken thermostat, which left the room feeling a comfortable sixty seven degrees, and, get this, the television that had no sound! No wonder the place was rated a solid star and a half. The breakfast must have been out of this world for this junk to deserve the extra half star.

“Is it even worth showering? It’s almost midnight.” Ash asked as he sifted through his bag for a change of clothes.

I wouldn’t even bother changing, to be honest, Ash. Just wait until tomorrow morning so we can order up so towels.”

Ash shoved his single extra shirt and pants into his backpack after a shrug. The backpack was tossed so he could suitingly flop himself onto the bed, face first. “At least the bed is somewhat comfortable.”

The fingertips of either of my hands were beating against each other rhythmically. I wasn’t sure I could trust the bed sheets, let alone share a bed with Ashton. He was another boy. I brushed the blush from my cheeks with the swipe of my hand and sat at the bedside, my backpack sliding to the floor by my feet.

Ash had already began to breath heavy, his head buried into his pillow as an ostrich would bury its head into the mud. I lowered my back to the bedsheets and closed my eyes. My feet hung off the bed, lifeless and exhausted from past days travel.

I stared at the ceiling in these moments. Nothing in particular crossing my mind, other than the stench coming from the next room. How was that even allowed in a hotel? I closed my eyes, which were itching by this point, and rubbed the sleep into them.

Something felt… off. My eyes were closed, but I felt as if another pair were watching me, peering through my closed eyelids and into my soul. I swatted my hand in the air, half expecting to hit Ash in the face, but I realized, his even breath still laid at rest beside me, calm and undisturbed.

I took in a quick breath. A cold finger slid across my right cheek, the same side of me which faced a wall. My head turned and eyes shot open.

Hovering inches from my face stood a ghastly figure. It’s chest and face completely translucent, though its substance held not a single feature. The figures evenly spaced fingers moved as if it were striking keys on a piano. It’s right hand reached for my mouth. Again, I felt the sensation of fingers running across my face and onto my lips.

My mouth hung open, its hinges oiled to their uselessness. The itching of my eye distracted me for only a moment. The figure’s finger treaded softly up my cheek and to the corner of my eye. The itching ceased.

The figure’s head cocked to the side. It’s fingers again, running over the surface of my face, my eyes following them all the while.

A shifting of the bed at my side averted only my eyes to my direct left, then back to the figure. It was presence still lingered, I could feel it near, it just wasn’t visible.

“Milo?” Ash yawned. “What time is it?”

I kept my eyes on the wall, looking directly forward at the space that was once filled matter.

“Milo?” Ash came again, pushing me with the prod of his fingers.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s-” I paused. “Four twenty three.”

Silence for a moment.

“Are you alright, dude?” Ash asked, sitting up straight to place a comforting hand on my shoulder.. “You seem… out of it.”

“I’m fine.” I brushed his hand off. “I just need a drink of water.”

“Let me get it for you.” He got up to follow.

“Ashton.” I stopped at the turn of the only corner in the room. “Go to sleep. I’m fine.”

Ash shook his head and sighed. “Well if you need anything, I’m sure room service wouldn’t mind.”

I stepped over the pearly white bedsheet that had fallen off from the vicious kicks Ash produces in his sleep when he was warm. A pile of used towels was crammed in the corner, and in the other a trashcan was filled with remanence from past eaten cheeseburgers and spilled out ketchup bags.

I walked into the bathroom and locked the door behind me. The scent of roses filled the room from the showers of a few hours ago.

I rinsed my hands in the sink to give off the illusion I was doing something useful with my time. The television set murmured though the closed door on something about a major earthquake in Nepal.

Through the reflection in the mirror, behind me, my demon stood. I turned to face it’s partial transparentness. There was no fear here. “So, what’s the trouble? Why do you chose now to confront me?”

The figure nodded and replied in sign. “Less time than thought. Leave immediately. Seek Griffin.”