hotel - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
This was no "chocolate on the pillow" hotel. The receptionist smelled of stale perfume and the tables had ashtrays instead of flowers. It was dingy, dark and cheap. Perfect. Ian kept his sunglasses on and said nothing as the room key was dropped into the lines of his hand.
...Once inside the room I have my routine. Stop for five whole minutes and listen. Close the curtains. Check the bedside cabinets and bathrooms for pharmaceuticals and toiletries. Small weight, big trade value. Then go through closets, drawers and suitcases. Check pockets. I only take clothing I want for myself; waterproof parkers, soft boots, pants and t-shirts. Black preferably, charcoal grey at the lightest. Normally it takes a handful of rooms to hit the jackpot, but this ones a real gem. Whoever the not-so-good-looking corpse is had a whole heap of medical issues. They must have rattled just to get out of bed. I’ve got anti-depressants, painkillers, blood thinners, anti-psychotics and cigarettes. But best of all he or she, I can’t tell yet, has antibiotics, lots of them. These alone are worth more than a months food for just me...
It wasn't the decor that made the hotel so exciting to Dan, he found it clean to the point of sterility, it was the people he always met with. It was the one place his scattered friends could be together, to be the people they were before "life" took a hold of them. They were boys once more and each one of them wore the grins of their youth under hair that was more grey than coloured.
Tereza crawled into the white, antiseptic capsule and shut the door behind her, which sealed with a hiss. The ventilation system inside could fine-control the temperature, so that blankets would not be required. It was more efficient that way; washing alien sweat and skin cells from cloth was costly in ways that Asphodel could not support. I did the same. The chilly temperatures that the Phoebans were accustomed to didn't suit me at all. A screen on the wall lay dormant and black, a stark contrast with the rest of the capsule. One tap brought it to life. Which language to access the system in? I clicked my own and was greeted with a translation so terrible it must have been automated. I clicked the picture of what appeared to be food. The label actually said 'Feedings', but after a few guesses a hatch in the wall opened and a hot plate of potatoes and tofu slid out. The peak of Phoeban cuisine. They didn't exactly believe in herbs or spices.
...the main kitchens were looted sometime ago for the food and the wares, knives included, but I’m not here for those. Four months ago this place was packed with stranded tourists, no flights anywhere and nowhere to go. They cowered behind cheap numbered doors while the air conditioning delivered the virus more efficiently than room service...I travel without noise over the dense carpet, littered with unvacuumed dirt and dark without illumination from the strip-lights above. Now they are just plastic casings on the crudely artexed ceiling, about as useful as a knife in a gunfight...The stairwell is just as deserted as the rest of the place. I pause to listen. Not even the sound of a heating system, though in this early fall it is still a little warm even without the daylight rays...The third floor welcomes me with the hush of a graveyard but without the courtesy of the dead being six feet under. Already some watery light struggles through the window. I pull the curtain closed...
The hotel, first. It was called The Sirenuse and, as Nile had been happy to tell him, it was one of the most luxurious in the whole of Southern Italy. Alex's room was huge and didn't look like a hotel room at all...more like a guest suite in an Italian palace. The bed was king-sized with pure white, Egyptian cotton sheets. He had his own desk, a thirty-six-inch TV with video and DVD, a sprawling leather sofa, and, on the other side of the floor-to-ceiling windows was his own private terrace. And the bathroom! As well as the power shower, there was a bath big enough for a football team, and a Jacuzzi. Everything in marble and handcrafted tiles. The millionaire suite. Alex shuddered to think how much it might cost a night.
The Saskia hotel was on old building that had somehow managed to elbow its way between a converted warehouse and a block of apartments. The hotel had just five bedrooms, stacked on top of one another like a house of cards, each one with a view of the canal. The flower market was a short walk away and even at night the air smelled sweet. Jack had chosen it because it was small and out of the way.
The Valencia was such an amazing hotel that Alex wouldn't have been surprised to see a stay there offered as a prize on a TV game show. It was tucked away in a crescent-shaped cove with miniature villas spread out along the beach and a low-rise reception area almost lost in a miniature jungle of exotic shrubs and flowers. There was a doughnut-shaped swimming pool with a bar in the inner ring and stools poking up just above the level of the water. The whole place seemed to be asleep. This was certainly true of the few guests Alex could see, lying motionless on sun beds.