547 days.

Most people would quit their job by then, especially working at a hotel, especially for your first summer job, but that’s the funny part. This summer job is slowly becoming forever, as my immortal old hag of a boss has decided that I have to keep working here, forever 20 until I can make a million dollars to put directly into his slimy, rotting wallet, ‘tis the punishment for the crime of my humanity, and my lack of monstrous figure.

That’s what’s in Roswell. No UFO, no little green men, but a small cave entrance that takes you to a world of monsters and Eldritch beings you’ve never seen before, if make believe was made believable. I found my way to the Underbed Inn, a hotel for monsters and critters and whatever else goes bump in the night. I got a job there, because why the Hell not, right? What a mistake I had made.

My boss found out when he realized that I had no otherworldly lineage, and he was furious. But being the greedy capitalist he is he struck a deal with me. I’d have to make $1,000,000 to earn my freedom, including tips, but in exchange he wouldn’t eat me out to whatever horror governs the area.

So I’ve been here for the past two years, though I guess for the past 17 Augusts, every August 31st the clock goes back to day 1 the moment it strikes 12, and I’m going mad. Maybe that’s my boss’s goal, to make me go mad so that I can qualify as some Eldritch prophet, but until then it’ll be this same cycle of cleaning fur out of mattresses, getting slime monsters out of the pool and burying corpses.

Luckily I have access to the Internet, they aren’t completely backwards down here, so I’m able to confide in you all, but still, I can’t take this solitude. I meet more living creatures than I did when I was among the humans but I still feel so alone. As I sit here, the ghoulish blue glow of just another random game show, writing this message to the outside world I’m only $203,451 dollars away from freedom.

I just hope I don’t get to attached to this literal Hell hole.

548…