The clock on his dashboard read 23:52. Jake on had been on the road for the last five hours, and he was pretty sure he was lost. Damned desert looked the same no matter which direction you looked. There hadn’t even been a hotel for miles, and he was getting pretty tired. He was having difficulty concentrating on th-

Whoa truck! Just in time Jake wrenched the steering wheel to the right as he got back to his own lane. His eyes were wide open now, not a bit of tiredness left in him. His heart was pacing, he could hear what could have been his death crashing in his ears.

It was midnight, if he didn’t find a hotel in the next half-hour, he was going to sleep in his car. He didn’t care, he just needed to get off this endless road. Looking to his left, he made sure his briefcase was still there. There wasn’t a reason it wouldn’t be, but, it was late, he wasn’t thinking straight. That briefcase contained his entire future. Business meeting at ten o’clock in the morning tomorrow, August fourth, and if he wasn’t there, he was going to spend the next few years wrestling with hobos for some cheese.

Jake shook his head to free these thoughts. He looked at his clock again. Funny. It still read midnight. “Damn thing must be broken” he grumbled, bringing a hand and smacking it. Still refused to be fixed.

Great, now he didn’t know how much time had passed. He was ready to pull off to the side when he finally saw a hint of salvation up ahead of him. A bright light with an arrow. Vacancy. A hotel! Long last a blasted hotel. A hot shower was in order, maybe some late night television. “Oh who am I kidding, I got ten hours before a meeting and it’s still another two hundred miles from here. Which reminds me, where is here?”

Jake drove up to the hotel, the Flatland Hotel. How original and tacky. A bed is a bed is a bed though, thus he parked his car in front of a room and walked over to the head office. Place had better accept his card, or else it looked he would be sleeping in his car after all.

He reached his hand out and grabbed the icy cold handle of the door, and pulled it open with a good wrench. Hinges needed oiled. He walked inside, and noted no one behind the counter. So Jake did the obvious thing: He rang the bell on the counter. Strange, it was cold to the touch as well. Oh well, maybe the heater was broken. Just as long as there was hot water, Jake would be fine.

But none came to the sound of the bell. So Jake rang once more. Twice more. Thrice more before a body woozily made his way to the counter. “How would I be helping you now?” he queried.

“I require shelter from the night” Jake replies.

“Don’t we all” he cries, “You afraid of the dark?”

“Aren’t we all?” Jake sighs, and hands to the counter man his Master Card. “Room and bed for the night is all I ask.”

“Then you shall receive” he tries the card, accepts the money, and hands over a key. “Room 3 is yours for the night, have a good rest.”

“Always do.” And with blink of an eye, Jake had his rest for the night.

-~-~-~-~-~-

In his dream, a woman, one which he had never seen the likes of before. Her face carved of marble, her eyes chips of diamonds. Her hair a river of brown flowing down her back. She moves not a muscle as she watches the moon rise. Jake calls her name, and he gets no reply. He tries again, louder. Still she ignores. A more frontal approach is needed, and so Jake applies this new plan. He reaches out to her, and is slapped away. He holds his hand, the pain so real. Was this a dream? The Flatland Hotel sign loomed behind him, and a great courtyard in front. Women in white, black in men. Each a face of marble, the perfect example of symmetry. All sway and dance to the music, perfectly in line with one another as they waltz through the grand courtyard, roses blooming in their wake, roses dieing in their quake.

Again Jake offers his hand to the woman of marble, again his hand is hit away. She would not have him. And so Jake turns to meet the sign, only to find five men about to dine, glasses filled with California wine. “Will you not join us?” they comprise.

“No, I must be going” Jake denies.

“We offer you food and meat, will you not join us?” they again devise.

“I have had my rest, and I cannot be pressed” Jake replies, and exits for the door.

“We are your rest, will you not join us?” they revise, and make room for Jake.

“Good day to you all” Jake decries them, and exits through the entry. On the other side he finds a courtyard, with women in black, and white in men. Faces made of onyx, perfect examples of asymmetry. The woman again standing before him, silent as the sun rises. “Will you not tell me where I am?” Jake asks.

“You are nowhere” she masks, her voice the running water of spring. “You are nowhere and nowhen. This is the Dance”

“I do not wish to be here, I shall take my leave” he declares, and walks past the on-going Dance.

“And where shall you go?” She glares. “From here is nowhere, you are here.”

“If here is nowhere, then I shall go somewhere” Jake flares, and leaves the ever-happening Dance.

-~-~-~-~-~-

Jake woke up in his bed with a gasp, his breath shaky, hard to achieve. Such an odd dream, one he did not want to remember, yet could not forget. He looked at the clock. It read twelve o’clock. He was late for his meeting, and with a start rushed out of bed. Quickly he grabbed his best suit and put it on. Not even time for breakfast, he needed to figure out some way to ensure his future.

He exited his door, and noticed something odd. It was dark out. The sun was usually up at noon, was it not? He checked his watch. It said twelve o’clock. He checked a clockl hanging on the wall. It too read twelve, but the second hand stood still. What were the chances? There had to be a clock somewhere.

Jake rushed out from his doorway and to the main office. He needed the time, had he slept for a day perhaps? Maybe it was only a few hours, hopefully only a few hours.

He stepped through the doorway, yet what reached his eyes were not the pale green that had greeted him before. Black and white and white and black waltzed before him.
“You come dressed for success” a river flows from Her mouth. “I asked you where you would go, and here you are.”

-~-~-~-~-~-

Four police officers stood around the crash. A black car had smashed heads on to a brown truck. Neither driver had a chance. From the way the crash was, it looked like the owner of the black car had swerved to the other side.

“Time of death?” one requests.

“Midnight, August fourth” another guessed.