The Ways of Sweden pt.1

The hotel looked like shit but he knew he’s seen worse.

His partner in crime had gone inside that thing to confirm arrival. It was only he and the dark of the night city. As he heard the seagull flying above him he remembered, remembered every detail of history that let him here, the good and the bad, he had realized there and then that another bloody journey has begun. The girl walking out of the hotel woke him up from his line of thought. Black and white skirt ending shortly above the knees, closely cut hair and where those high heels? He watched as she disappeared in the night and lit a cigarette, waiting for his partner.

Not knowing what to expect, he stepped into his room. He was not surprised of it, taking a closer look at the room his emotions have been changing as he looked further inside. From anger to amusement, what looked like a small cabinet for clothes was in reality a spare bed. The wardrobe with no shelf’s in it, which he fucking hated. The two badly placed and leveled paintings above the bed. He kept laughing to himself as a madman, looking at the shower with no barrier on the floor, so the water would be everywhere after using it. Something flipped that moment, for some reason, only understood by his own mind, he was comfortable. After taking a shower and stashing all his things, he went to bed. The strange eyes watching him as he was falling asleep.

The days have been hard to him mostly and the sleep was worth shit. It wasn’t the rooms fault though. Maybe it was his bad habits, or the long traveled distance. Whatever it was, now he can’t eat without having to force himself into it. Tired and hungry like a zombie, trying to stay socially active, because he has to. Is it stress? He should be happy, so why stress? Asking him self the same question over and over “Why do I feel like shit?!” All he wants to do now is to lay down into his bed and watch the star of the north, see the star one more time. Night after night…

The quiet night is getting to him and he can feel the cold grasp. Always thinking ahead has become a curse for him, for he did not think hard enough. Everything is quiet now. He’s alone in a strange land, clueless of what to do next…

To be continued…


Posted on July 31, 2013, in The Ghost, Writing attempts and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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