By the time the van creaked its way into the gravel parking lot of The Dusty Hollow Inn, the band was too road-worn to argue. The sign buzzed angrily with flickering neon letters—only D S Y H _ _ L _ W I N still lit—and a hand-painted banner beneath it read “NEW MANAGEMENT (WE THINK)”.

Cassie stepped out of the van, glanced at the building with one eye twitching. “This is where ghosts go to retire.”

“Does it come with free tetanus?” Maya muttered, hauling her guitar out of the back like it might catch something if it touched the ground.

The lobby smelled like burnt coffee, lemon air freshener, and failed dreams. A grizzled man behind the counter barely looked up from a TV playing static and Walker, Texas Ranger reruns.

“You the band?”

Gabriel, still hyped from the gig, beamed. “Sure are! We’re Feral Eclipse!”

The man pointed at a key rack behind him. “Pick one that’s not crooked.”

Thane narrowed his eyes. “That’s your booking system?”

“It’s worked since ‘82.”

Jonah grabbed a key labeled “Room 3 (sorta works)” and immediately sneezed. “This place smells like expired toothpaste.”

Inside the rooms? Even worse.

Room 1’s ceiling fan wobbled like it was trying to escape. Room 2 had a bathtub full of tax forms from 2006. Room 3—Jonah’s—had an unplugged mini fridge containing exactly one jar of pickles and a cassette tape labeled “DO NOT LISTEN AFTER MIDNIGHT.”

Gabriel flopped onto a bed and was immediately engulfed in a cloud of dust. “…Soft.”

Mark walked in behind him, took one look around, and said, “I’m sleeping in the van.”

“No, you’re not,” Thane replied, rubbing his temples. “If I hear you dragging an extension cord out there again, I’m sedating you.”

They tried to relax. Jonah swore his room’s toilet flushed upward. Rico claimed the wallpaper moved when he wasn’t looking. Cassie found an ancient Gideon Bible with a love letter to someone named “Cooter” tucked inside.

By 2 a.m., the power blinked out for no reason.

Mark’s voice cut through the pitch-black like a blade. “I didn’t do it this time.”

Then the fire alarm chirped once, just to say hi.

“…Okay,” Thane said, sitting up. “We’re never staying in a place that has quotes around the word ‘clean’ in the welcome packet again.”

Gabriel turned on his phone flashlight, holding it under his face like a horror movie narrator. “You think if I lick the wall I’ll get powers?”

“Do it,” Maya said instantly from across the room.

They survived the night.

Mostly.

By sunrise, they were half-dressed, caffeine-starved, and fleeing the motel like it owed them money. As they piled into the van, Jonah whispered, “I think something watched me sleep.”

Mark took a swig of warm soda and said, “Same. But it tipped its hat, so I let it be.”