 hotel prometheus by chris markwell the third time i returned to the hotel prometheus i finally got to talk to the receptionist until then all i had ever seen of her was a silhouette behind that weird screen or her pale hand as she passed me my room keys through the slot tonight there was no screen and the receptionist was sitting there her head turned to the left as if listening to something only she could hear she held a cigarette blithely in her left hand as though it were an ornament made solely to adorn her long fingers i moved closer to her desk at this time of the evening the reception area was always deserted the regular patrons of the hotel were either drinking at the bar down the hallway or safely tucked away in their little rooms right now the place belonged to us i looked at her she was wearing a business suit cut into a very retro 1940s style that accentuated her very fine figure her lips were colored a deep striking scarlet an alluring focus away from her otherwise completely monochrome appearance i suddenly felt i had been flung into the role of a film noir detective and right then i d found the femme fatale she cut me a look that said she knew about money and i wasn t it she put her blonde cigarette to her lips and then let a long languid plume of grey smoke rise up the side of her face that was visible to me i padded up to the desk smiling with a row full of insecurities showing hello there at last miss you re back again mister ketch she interrupted without looking at me the hotel prometheus is certainly becoming quite the haunt for you isn t it i recovered as gracefully as a drowning man would when faced with the prospect of niagara falls um yes well i er don t really have anywhere else to go i guess i m er kinda lost right now the receptionist let out a low purring chuckle that sent a pleasant whisper through my body oh honey that s what delivers all of us here you know i was a pretty good singer once upon a time rising up through the usual circuits getting attention in all the right places and fun from all the wrong kinds of people and lemme tell you it was a blast mister ketch a real blast so anyways one day i m singing in some hotel dining hall joint doing my usual stuff getting the crowd nice and hot on a cold day i m making them forget about their worries you know how it is when music can make bad things disappear that s what s happening back in the day i don t mind telling ya i had real talent and people could see it feel that certain spark that electrifies every nerve just like having sex with a brand new partner who s got the skills to really open your eyes things were getting hotter in the room especially with the receptionist looking at me with her green eye full of emerald fire i cleared my throat and she flashed half a smile now this gig itself wasn t that important pretty standard as far as any gig is concerned but what happened afterwards well that was so much more stimulating really my throat had gotten awfully dry all of a sudden oh yes very you want to know what happened to a young slightly mischievous girl on that hot dark night mister ketch another deep inhalation another slow plume of smoke the glitter from her single visible eye smoldering into me i was hooked please she smiled her half a smile at me a professional to her mark late into the evening after the encores had been performed and the guests were all neatly tucked up in their beds there i was in my dressing room enjoying some of life s nasty little habits when a knock happened at my door it was late usually by this time my manager had gone to bed with larry my pianist and i d specifically told the hotel staff i was not to be disturbed this was someone entirely different i cleaned myself up as best i could then answered the door a tall thinlooking guy a regular scarecrow to my dorothy greeted me on the other side i loved your show tonight he told me in a voice that just oozed confidence and i just couldn t resist being a little bit bad and coming backstage to see you i hope you don t mind well i m usually all for being bad mister generally people call me nick my dear lady i d very much like for you to do the same i ask you what s a showgirl to do mister ketch i d already been quite a naughty girl and mister nick was downright bad it only took one look into his eyes and things went completely out of control i don t mind telling you mister ketch the gig was good but this was so much better afterwards he went and got himself dressed then went into his coat pocket i thought to myself after that he s going to pay me like some twobit hooker hey nick what re you doing just tying up some loose ends sweetheart you got some potential in ya i gotta say more than i ever saw in anyone before all the while his back s turned to me coward won t look me in the eye i get up saying the usual stupid angry things you say in the heat of the moment that you always mean and consistently regret saying afterwards but hell i was the rising star and this backstage jumper was talking to me like i was hardly nothing by god i d make sure he d face me and look me square in the eyes i grabbed him by the arm pulled him round suddenly silence fell the air around us had become so much colder my breath quickened began to fog the hallway had darkened shadows lengthened i had never felt more uncomfortable all of a sudden i couldn t help but move in closer what happened then i asked in a voice that was barely above a whisper she laughed but that purr it had previously had vanished it felt hot you know like being burned with a branding iron kinda hot then it was all cold as cold as a winter alone i suppose it musta hurt when it happened way back then but then again that was the forties and this most definitely isn t hell time can make fools of us all can t it mister ketch i felt my skin whiten the forties but that s impossible you re still so young she must have ignored me continuing her story unabated by my outburst all i wanted was for him to face me jack can you face me jack i wonder if you can what do y that was all i could get out as she finally turned her hidden half of her face towards me first i looked at the ragged socket where her eye pulped and mashed looked back at me her left temple the right side fair and pale was instead torn apart by some incredibly violent force mauling the top half of her face into a vile effigy of destruction the still fresh and glistening gunshot was still leaking blood ichors and pieces of dried bone traces horrifying lines down past her cheek to her ruby red lips i couldn t even scream as i gazed at the corpse receptionist being shot only hurts for a second jack but still being on this earth when i should rightfully be six feet under it well that s a pain that sticks  issue 3 chris markwell 