Malignant Little Bastards (short story) - eBook

Working the front desk can be boring until a guest complains about the people in A6. The children are loud with their screaming and laughing, but the couple in room A6 have no children.

Strange occurrences keep happening around the hotel and Alex is determined to find out what is going on.

Little does he know that he will soon wish he never knocked on their door.

If you enjoyed Stephen King's The Outsider, you'll also be engrossed by Malignant Little Bastards. Buy now!

Bonus story: Good Deed

“I would like to complain about a guest,” Joe Goldman said.

Alex, a man in his mid-thirties and of Romanian descent, clasped his hands at his front and stood behind the counter of the Avalon Hotel. The spacious and polished office opened at 7 AM. The last few hours had been traditionally peaceful. He worked alone that time of the day while the other staff members started preparing to clean the rooms and the exterior of the three-level building shaped like an L. His boss, Charlie, wouldn’t be in until after lunch.

Complaints happened, he learned since starting this job ten years ago. He didn’t mind but he wasn’t looking forward to confronting the offending guest. Most of the time Charlie liked to handle it but sometimes he wasn’t around to do everything and it fell on Alex’s head. He bet Charlie never felt like he was harassing a guest.

“You’re in B6, right?” Alex asked, his voice a bit nasal. “How can I help you?”

“Yes, B6,” Goldman said. The man in his late sixties dressed in long shorts and a matching dark blue shirt leaned against the grand wood counter and placed his hands on top of the glossy surface. “Last night the people under us were making a horrible racket. It started at one in the morning. Woke my wife and me out of a deep sleep. We sleep deeply at our age.”

Alex nodded. A lot of elderly people checked into the motel, especially in September. The rates were cheaper and the beach town was calmer. Often the older guests sat in the white wood rocking chairs outside each room and stare at the boardwalk and beach across the street or read their books. A few of them even napped in the chairs. He assumed Goldman wasn’t one of the nappers.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Alex said, moving his hands into the pockets of his khaki shorts. “That would be A6. I’ll speak to the couple there today.”

“Couple?” Goldman asked. “No. These were kids down there, too. Lots of screaming. Moving the furniture or banging it or something. I was tempted to knock on their door but then it stopped suddenly and my wife told me to wait a few minutes. I did. Then I must have fallen back to sleep. If it happened again, I probably slept through it. I usually sleep deeply. That’s why I’m so upset. I’m surprised no one else has come in here to complain about them.”

“You said kids?” Alex was sure that the people in A6 were a couple. His age with no kids.

“Kids. What kids were doing up that late, I couldn’t say. But it sounded bad.”

“I’m really sorry that happened to you, Mr. Goldman. Thank you for telling us about it. And next time if the office is closed, feel free to call the police if it happens. Otherwise, call the office right away.”

“It better not happen again,” the elderly man said, squinting. “That’s why I came to you.”

“Yes, of course,” Alex said, smiling, hoping to appease him.

Goldman grunted and nodded.

“Good day,” he said, turning and leaving the office.

Alex waved to him as he went out the glass door. He watched Goldman through the large office windows. The old man turned left and, Alex assumed, went back to his room. When the man was out of his sight, he rolled his eyes and shook his head.