"Shadow of Remembrance", by Bloodwitch Luz Oscuria

This is the second excerpt from my novel, "Shadow of Remembrance", in its version translated by Fatima Basil.

As I expected, the hotel is indeed run down. The staircase creaks so much, and there are so many steps that move when you put one foot on it, that I have thought many times that I would slip through before reaching my room. Lucky for me, I access it safely. But, while I thought it would be the last of my worries for tonight, my bedroom lock blocks the key. Here I am, good to come down and ask for a hand. The owner of the premises is still behind his counter, busy fighting with a pen which, it seems, is no longer working. It’s just as he sends it crashing angrily into the wall opposite that I introduce myself. I almost caught a shard of said pen in my eye.

But my interlocutor won't apologize, it doesn't sound like the house type. Come on, have a little courage, I will manage to tell him that I have a problem with my lock, and then I can finally lock myself in safety in this room which I absolutely cannot wait to explore. In the meantime, Mylène sent me on my phone the actual change in my return ticket, which I should have used tonight. She urged me not to go home today, so that I could take some time tomorrow morning to tour the area before getting back to my train for around 1 p.m. In short, a good idea, which I consider with interest after finally being able to enter my room after the owner intervened to open the door for me. I finally stretch out on my full length on the bed, the sheets of which aren't the cleanest. They even look grayer than white.

For dinner, I took advantage of a stopover in a supermarket before it closed to buy myself a ready-made salad. It’s not that bad, but it’s always taken. Also, I begin to open my backpack that I had placed next to me to check my emails from my mobile, and I collect the famous dish. It doesn’t taste very good, I much prefer it homemade, however I adapt. And then, it's only for a meal. Tomorrow noon, I will surely have lunch in a small bar.

Restaurant, it will be better. Once my dinner is over, I go to bed for the night, I can hardly sleep. There are no shutters on the window, and the area is particularly noisy. In addition, it is not hot because of the draft passing under the door. This is really not ideal. As I thought when I saw the owner of the place, this place is in his image. Cold, unpleasant, devoid of any comfort. And, to top it off, I have a feeling that the neighbors upstairs have forgotten that they are not alone here. And I witness with the greatest dismay their nocturnal frolics. I myself was in a relationship before my assault. Since then, I haven't had a chance to be close enough to a woman to have a chance to remember what it's like. If I can believe the noises I hear now, it must be nice. Even so, I would gladly do without. I decide to turn my back to the window through which the moon attacks me with its light, and try to fall asleep despite the little cries and creaks of the bed in the room above.

The next morning, it was still exclamations that woke me up, and I had the greatest difficulty in finding Morpheus. It’s barely 7 a.m., the day is already here, but I’m really sleepy. The voices are not the same as those I heard during the night. It seems that these dear neighbors upstairs have decided to spread their household scene to whoever will listen.

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