It was a Friday morning ten years ago, and I stepped off the bus, wincing as the icy wind slapped my face. I had to be careful of my footing, as the ground was icy due to the recent snow. I made my way down the street to the motel, where I would be staying for the weekend. I was only there for a skiing weekend, but little did I know what awaited me soon.
It was a cheap motel, almost entirely empty at the time, seeing as we were quite a distance from the mountain. I didn't mind being that far away from the mountain, I wasn't exactly flowing with cash. I went into the main office, to get my room keys where a peculiar old man was watching a small antenna T.V. with poor reception. From a name tag I found out his name was actually John Doe. He was wearing a suit which looked like it was from the fifties, with the exception of shoes, in which he only had a pair of wool socks on. He had a scar on his face running from the top-left of his forehead, in between his eyes down his nose. When he gave me my room keys, I noticed that he also had his right pinky missing, probably from World War II. He also never made eye contact with me. I was good at noticing small details like these.
As I went into my room to drop off my bags and change from my travel wear, I saw a tall man walking toward the main office. He had on a long black trench coat, a pair of black leather boots, a black hat, and a pair of shades. He was carrying a black duffle bag, and had an old gold watch on which seemed incredibly familiar. I made the assumption that he was in drug trafficking, but didn't really feel like getting involved. I'd probably wind up being murdered anyways. I quickly put these thoughts into the back of my head and went into my room.
It was a small room, with barely more room than that needed for a queen sized bed, a nightstand, a dresser, and a small television. The paint was peeling in several places, and the room had a very distinct smell. Besides that, the room was actually very comfortable, and well kept. I took a shower and got dressed, and began exploring the room. I looked in the nightstand and found Gideon's Bible covered in condoms which looked as if they were as old as the room itself. I pulled out the Bible and flipped through carelessly. After that, I got my skiing equipment and headed over towards the mountain before it became too late.
I'm not a great skier, but I was able to not embarrass myself while I was there. Being winter, it grew dark early, and I soon had to leave. As I started heading back to the motel though, there was a giant explosion behind me. I quickly hid in some bushes and looked for the cause of the explosion. I managed to get a good view into the smoke, and saw the man with the trench coat running away, this time without the duffle bag. I didn't have any cellphone service, and knew I had to return to the motel to call the police.
I began to run, towards the motel, when I suddenly knew where I had seen the watch; it had been in a vast number of old family photos. My great-grandfather had bought that watch right before he served in World War I, and had it shipped back right before he had died in Europe. My grandfather then inherited the watch and had a similar story, except it was in World War II. When my parents got married, my maternal grandmother gave it to my father as a wedding present. He took it with him when he served for the Israeli Defense Force in the 1982 Lebanon war. He had been captured by the PLO, and had to hide the watch in his butt. After dying of dysentery, his friend, whom later was released in a prisoner exchange, took the watch, and tried to send it back to my family, but along the way was lost in the postal system. Why was that stranger in the trench coat wearing my father's watch?
I got back to the motel and tried to enter the main office, the door was locked, and I could smell something rancid coming out of the room. The man in the trench coat must have killed John, when I entered my room. I ran to my room and tried to call someone with the phone on the nightstand. No signal. I began to panic when I heard a sharp knock at the door. I waited breathless for what seemed like hours but couldn't have been more than a few minutes. I heard another knock. This time I was absolutely motionless, paralyzed with fear. Pretty soon, the door fell in, right off it's hinges. The man in the trench coat came in, and took off his hat and sunglasses. "Nathan? Nathan Rosenberg?" he asked. "Ye...yeah. That's me." I managed to respond. "I've been looking all over for you," he continued "I have to talk to you about your father..."
((Stay tuned for the next chapter!))