The Yellow Hibiscus

Tempest Under 1000 Words

Somehow, I had to find one of them. I tried Willoby again, but still no answer. Truly panicked, I had nowhere to turn, so I settled for the night manager. I sold him a sad story. Then attempted a desperate blackmail scam. I told him that I had seen what had happened and that if he’d just give me another room, on another floor, I’d forget the incident.

He nodded and disclosed, “Von Brat is connected. He doesn’t need me to give him your room number.”

I heard that name before.

“What are you mixed up in?” he asked. “These are dangerous men, and they will come back,” he warned, fear mixed with concern flowed from his eyes.

I exhaled, not knowing if I could trust another stranger.

“Maybe you should go to the police?” he suggested.

With a heavy heart, I lied as convincingly as my trembling body could, “I can handle this.”

He read my fear, then gave me a room and a keycard on another floor and explained, “I will fix it, so they won’t find out which room you are in,” then he counseled, “But I wouldn’t toy with von Brat or his thugs.”

I sighed. I had no choice but to trust Harry Tomlin.