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Jun. 4th, 2008

The pop was the noise that got them shifting and moving. The screams hadn't done it. The static hiss hadn't done it. The weird buzz coming from under the door and around the window edges wasn't enough. But hearing the pop-pop-pop of gunfire, that got them moving. That was a noise they knew. They understood that guns = danger, and it was time to get out. If you couldn't get out, it was time to hide in the bathtub. The hotel room didn't even have a bathtub, it being a cheap, rent-by-the-hour, shower-stall-because-god-knows-what-they'd-have-to-clean-out-of-a-tub sort of place. That had been part of the joke. They would get a super low-end hotel room for a weekend, fix their video camera up to the peephole pointing out of their door, and they'd do a time-lapse vid of the results. They were hoping--

Inspiration: my Pandora tree of life playlist
Story Potential: Low.
Notes: The premise itself is straight outta bargain bin horror, but I do like the idea of some art school kids renting a hotel room in a sleazy part of town, videotaping something, and bad/weird shit going down. Hmm. Pretty sure that's also straight outta bargain bin horror, though.

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penthius

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