Write about someone who can’t sleep due to jet lag, and decides to set out and explore their new city at night instead.
Aaron arrives in an unfamiliar town, seeking solace in a nighttime walk. But a chance encounter with a mysterious figure quickly turns sinister, plunging him into a desperate chase through the shadowy streets.
Another check-in desk, another bland foyer restaurant, and another night in a city that was not home. The well-worn grey synthetic carpet scraped the bottom of his shoes and his shoulder sagged under the weight of his satchel. After lugging it around all day through airport terminals he longed for the one good thing he knew he’d find in his drab hotel room – a hot shower.
He called his wife to see how the school drop off had gone without him there and to let her know he’d arrived safely at the hotel. The softness and familiarity of her voice made him wish more than anything to be home, but here he was – desperately trying to sell his product across the country in the hope that someday it would provide for his family. His wife could stop work, he could quit doing stale office jobs in between sales trips to pay the bills. But mostly, he could say he was a success.
Unpacking his belongings with his usual hotel rhythm, Aaron’s thoughts redirected to the meeting he had lined up for the next morning. He hoped it would result in a sale – any kind of sale – and that word would get out: ‘the Oritone is incredible!’, ‘you need the Oritone in your office’, ‘how does your business even function without the Oritone!’. Every meeting he had could mean the end of mediocre office jobs and the beginning of a successful life as an entrepreneur. A life he could be proud of.
Preparing for his long awaited shower, he discovered the bathroom light flickered just enough to black out the room every few seconds. Perfect. Regardless he stepped in and turned the shower on. Months and months of Zoom meetings and phone calls with potential clients had rolled by, and a few businesses had jumped on board. But with each passing day it was looking more and more like this path was fading. He desperately needed to sell more and sell better. He turned the hot water on and jumped in, realising that in his distraction the hot water hadn’t made it through the plumbing yet. The icy water made him dance awkwardly. Jumping back out he knocked his elbow on the shower screen and yelped in pain. Rubbing the mark that had just appeared he tried to focus on his breathing until the room filled with steam and he could step back into the shower.
Wrapped in his towel he wandered across his room, opened the curtains and looked out at the falling sun. The town was cloaked in mist, and light rain clouds were circling the edges of the skyline. He had eaten on the plane so he was not hungry, and despite the late hour he was not quite ready to retire to bed. It was 11 am back home, and his body refused to accept the new time zone, as always. His only real option was to watch television or walk. He chose the latter – at least some fresh air might lift his spirits.
Grabbing his key card, coat, wallet and phone he made his way out of the room, past the concierge desk and drab restaurant to the street. A taxi driver peered up from his steering wheel to see if this man would be his next fare, but Aaron turned right and paced away from the hotel entrance. A light rain began to drizzle, and he pulled the hood of his coat up and over. The taxi driver continued waiting.
The asphalt crunched beneath his boots, and the occasional passing car swept past with a loud shhhh. Street lights created long shadows ahead and behind him along the footpath. The traffic lights shone brightly towards him through the darkness and the pedestrian man blinked in red at a slow and consistent pace.
His heart rate settled and his breathing found a steady rhythm. He felt ok, much less anxious than he would have been sitting in the hotel watching terrible night time television. With each step he tried to untangle his thoughts about the business. Would this be his last sales trip? Was he done? Should he just give up now?
The little green man flashed wildly and the tick tock overwhelmed the quiet street. He wasn’t sure why he’d waited for permission to cross the street – there was no one around. He could walk as he wished. But he followed the rules, anyway.
With each passing step he began to think more clearly. Piece by piece he was able to line up the blocks of his mind. The business was struggling, but he thought back to all the sunken costs, the time, the development, the meetings. What would it all have been for if he just gave up?
Crossing the street he paced towards the main plaza in town, locating the statue by the fountain. The stillness of the street was calming, and he felt comfortable leaning up against the cold and damp edges of the fountain. Watching the cool water jump up and landing he watched the ripples roll around the darkened water, taking deep breaths. The rain drops became slightly heavier, dampening his shoulders and tapping on his hood. But suddenly the serenity was interrupted.
‘Hey there,’ said an invisible voice, gently and warmly. He peered around hurriedly to find who it belonged to. Wandering over to his right was a gentleman with stark, blue eyes. He appeared with a glide, his face open and bright. His presence seemed to lock with Aaron’s and despite the strange circumstance, he was not afraid.
‘Beautiful spot, isn’t it? I’m Martin,’ he said, smiling. Aaron smiled back politely and introduced himself as well.
‘I will admit it’s a strange place to be at 7pm at night, though. This town is a little…small, and we don’t really have much of a night life. What brings you out here?’, asked Martin.
‘I’m on a business trip, a little jet lagged, only just flew in,’ Aaron said. Martin nodded in reply.
‘I’ve spent many a sleepless night walking the streets here myself,’ said Martin, before letting an awkward break fall in the conversation. Aaron wondered what would bring a man like this to such a regional town – he seemed rather out of place.
Aaron was not open to discussing his woes with a stranger, but he shared a little in an attempt to smooth out their lumpy conversation, and with a view to exit their chat at an appropriate time. After all his sales calls he knew how to move through conversation, when to lock it in, and when the leave it.
‘It’s a…a good way to mull things over, you know?’, he finally said, not entirely convinced. Martin agreed. Aaron shifted his posture, to indicate he didn’t intend to linger for much longer. Martin adjusted in a similar fashion, mirroring his movements.
The rain had begun to gently seep through his jacket. He could feel the cold on his skin. Realising he should probably try to get some rest in, and finding Martin’s presence a little off, he decided it was time to begin wandering back to the hotel.
‘Well, I better get back before they lock me out of the hotel, ha,’ he said. Martin suddenly became quite eager.
‘Where are you staying?’, he snapped urgently. Aaron’s stomach jolted. He became acutely aware that there were no people around, no taxis, no restaurants open.
‘Ahhh I forget the name, it’s one of those big hotel chains, y’know? Anyway, I gotta bolt so, nice meeting you,’ he had begun pacing but Martin had taken pursuit right behind him. Aaron picked up his feet and went.
Cold wet shoes slapped the pavement and Aaron grabbed onto telephone poles and bollards to turn corners as fast as he could. No matter how fast he ran, Martin was always just behind. But he wasn’t running on the ground – he was floating, almost flying, above it. The sight shocked Aaron deeply and added fuel to his growing pace. His eyes darted up and down every street for a taxi, a policeman, anyone who could help but the streets had remained empty. He forged onward.
Cutting through alleyways and trying to lose Martin amongst flowers and trees lining the street Aaron maintained his pace. He was only a few streets away from the hotel now but Martin was not slowing down. Martin was hissing violently in pursuit. Aaron didn’t dare look back for fear of succumbing to the chase. He needed to throw something at him to shove him off course. Getting closer and closer to the hotel, now at the end of the street, he saw what he needed – a medium sized garbage can. Perfect.
Leaning down as he raced down the empty street he picked up the can madly with both hands, turned around and flung it at Martin, who was knocked to the ground huffing in frustration. Aaron turned on the spot and kept running, looking for more things he could throw in Martin’s direction. He grabbed a pot plant and an a-frame sign, both clattering to the ground. Aaron had managed to gain a little more distance but he knew his best shot was to get into the key access hotel lobby.
Fumbling in his pocket for his key card, he pulled up right in front of the double glass doors. But with one unfortunate motion the key card slipped from his grip, tumbling down and disappearing into the drain below. With panic dropping deep into his stomach he frantically knocked on the glass doors to get the clerks attention.
The clerk noticed him and began to dawdle over, painfully slow. Aaron turned around, certain that Martin would be right behind him. But the valet was abandoned, even the taxis had called it quits for the night. Martin was nowhere to be seen.
Finally the clerk opened the glass doors, ‘can I help you, sir?’.
Aaron tried to create an excuse, mumbling something about losing his key card and the rain, and the clerk nodded. They both entered the foyer, Aaron keeping a watchful eye on the outside world.
Several metres away, standing strong in the shadows, was Martin – watching and waiting, wiping the blood from his cut lip. His fangs shone bright in the blackened sky, glistening with rage.
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