General

The motel was one of those seedy places men with beer guts went to bang other men's wives with promises they couldn't afford to keep. Or else the hooker's brought their john's there and paid for rooms by the hour. Weeds grew through the cracks in the concrete path and the litter from cheap take-out meals were strewn across it. There were external wooden stairs that lead to a second floor, a second row of doors, that looked like the building inspector was either bribed to pass it or drunk on the job. There were at least two screaming matches going on in separate rooms, and the cars in the lot wouldn't have been out of place in a wrecker's yard.

By neeta, October 21, 2013.
General

Maya casts her tired eyes around the one room that is home to her entire family. Her husband works full time at Walmart, and her at McDonalds. Together, on full-time hours, they can only pay for this dingy motel. Every time they almost save enough for the first and last months deposit on a house another emergency comes: the car will break down, the kids grow out of their clothes, shoes wear out. It was only supposed to be temporary, this little room, but two years have gone by already. By night they haul up with the kids, too scared to let them play outside. This is a place of drug-dealers and pimps, child molesters and shady dealings. The nearby parks are hang-outs for addicts, the grass containing any number of used needles or shards of broken glass. Their sleep is frequently punctuated by screams, by drunken shouts, by gunshots. How can it be that two hardworking American sweethearts can provide no better for the children they love?

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, December 18, 2014.