One late summer day, my ol’ uncle Greg called to tell me his sister had suffered from cardiac arrest. The news of my aunt’s passing would send me off on a cross country road trip while my wife stayed home to look after the dog and cats. Sarah protested at first, saying she wanted to be there for emotional support. But, this wasn’t my first funeral procession, and truth be told, I was never close to my aunt. I was just going to be there for Greg. So after convincing Sarah to just stay home and spend the week relaxing, I was off on my road trip. Little did I know what I’d be getting into.
My first day cruising the interstate went off without a hitch. Despite the sullen nature of the journey, getting out and seeing the open countryside of multiple different states made my spirit feel lightweight and free of life’s day-to-day grind. I’d end the first day by pulling into a cozy little town, stopping at a small mom n’ pop diner before checking in at a nearby motel.
Day two seemed a little more hectic. Waking up late, I rushed out of the hotel and hit the road. Opting to skip breakfast entirely, I spent the better half of eight hours driving ten over the speed limit, stopping only to get gas. Sleeping in had put me four hours behind schedule, and come nightfall, I found myself on a long stretch of highway snaking through mountainous woodlands. My eyes drifted between the road and the digital clock on the dashboard. After twelve straight hours of driving, I was cursing under my breath and looking for ANYWHERE to stop for the night.
When the woods surrounding the highway became so thick that it began to block out the natural moonlight, I sighed and came to the conclusion I might be pulling over to sleep in my car. To my surprise, a sign popped up, indicating an exit for a town. Twynesgrove, population 700. All the tension left my body and in an instant I became more relaxed.
The exit took me down a winding canyon road, made unnerving by the lack of guard rails and low hanging tree branches that seemed to reach out for my windshield. Finally, it dumped off into a flat forested area, which I thought vacant at first. After a moment of driving, I noticed the houses buried deep in the treeline. The driveways leading to the houses were gravel and well hidden between the trees. From what I could make out with the brief passing of my car’s headlights, the houses appeared quite old, weathered and worn down. One sat closer to the road, and I could clearly see the doors and windows boarded up. I had been driving through this “town” for all but five minutes and already it was creeping me out.
Just when I began to consider turning around, the dull glow of a gas station appeared in the distance. Knowing I’d need to fuel up to reach the next major town, I decided to pull in alongside one of the pumps. Figured I’d ask the clerk inside if there were any places I could stay for the night while I was there. I stepped out of my car, embracing the unusually cold air which sent shivers down my spine.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my wallet only to realize the pumps were so old that they didn’t take any form of card payment. Shrugging it off, I walked into the store, only to find it empty.
Literally empty.
The entire building was just an open room, no shelves or freezers for storing goods. A gross checkered tile with numerous stains and cracks dominated the room, accentuated by a flickering light in the back right corner. I stared at the surreal and vacant store in front of me, only snapping back to reality when I saw a roach scurrying across the floor.
Feeling thoroughly unnerved by the situation, I returned to my car and contemplated my next move. It was damn near midnight now, and I needed to get some shut-eye. Against my better judgment, I pulled out of the parking lot and headed further up the road. Not even a mile up the road, an old wooden sign came up for a roadside inn. With crossed fingers, I pulled into the lot.
My headlights illuminated a two story log cabin style cottage nestled between thickets of trees. Moss or ivy appeared to be growing on the outer walls, and all of the windows were dark except for one, which had a faint glow. An uneasy feeling washed over me once I turned the car off. I spent another minute debating if I really wanted to approach that building, which didn’t have a single source of light besides the faint glow from the 1st floor window.
Stepping out into the night air, it immediately struck me how eerily silent my surroundings seemed to be. After many camping trips in the mountains and forests, I had grown accustom to the nocturnal sounds of the wilderness. Owls, crickets, the call of coyotes or foxes. The area around this cabin was dead quiet. Not even the slightest rustling of trees or bushes could be heard. Listening to my own footsteps while approaching the inn made the very hairs on my back stand up.
The door to the cabin had an old, rusting metal sign which read “open” nailed above the door handle. I spent another few seconds just staring at the sign, wondering if I should knock or just step inside. Out of nowhere, a rush of hot air ran down my neck with a distinct sensation which can only be described as someone standing right behind me and letting out a deep breath. I spun around, heart now racing from what I just felt, but nobody was there.
Chalking it up to a lack of sleep, I turned around and nearly screamed when the face of an old man stood just inches away. He somehow managed to open the door and positioned himself in the doorway without making even the slightest sound. The man wore brown dress pants and a brown tweed jacket. Wrinkles lined his scowling face, which sat under a messy mop of scraggly gray hair.
“What’re ye doin’ out this time of night?”
His voice barked in the silence of the night, filled with rasp and old age. Holding my still beating heart, I drew in a deep breath and closed my eyes.
“Looking for a place to stay for the night, sir.”
His eyes narrowed, nearly hiding his hazy green irises. After turning and grumbling, the old man gestured me to follow him inside.
“Only one vacant room, top floor. It’s fifty bucks a night.”
We walked into a dim lobby, lit by candles and decorated with antiques from a bygone time. The old man stepped behind a counter which held various dusty books and old glass bottles. I pulled out my wallet and offered him my card. He took it, shaking his head and letting out a sigh.
“Only take cash, son. But, I tell ya what, you can stay fer tonight and pay me back later.”
He handed my card back and reached down under the desk to grab an old brass key. A grateful smile fell upon my face.
“Man, I can’t thank you enough, I-“
Before I could finish, he cut me off.
“No, no need to thank me, it’s been a good while since I’ve had a guest come to stay.”
He paused, leaned in, and displayed a crooked smile.
“I’m happy to accommodate you, son. Take a candle here to light your way.”
Standing there somewhat speechless, I grabbed the key from him along with one of the candles. I looked down and saw the room number etched into the face of the key.
Room 13.
The old man continued to show his unflattering smile as I nodded my head and turned to the hallway. Against the dim glow of candle light, I saw a row of vintage photographs lining the wall. The people in them were dressed from the Victorian era. Walking down the old creaking floorboards, I saw the hallway split into two paths. On the right was the staircase to the second floor. To the left sat the intersection of another hallway, with the vague outline of a deer head mounted on the wall. I stared at that mounted head as I approached the staircase, unnerved by the frightened expression it wore on its frozen dead face. Just when I began to climb the flight of stairs, I saw that fucking deer head move in the peripheral of my vision.
Frozen on the steps, I slowly turned around and peeked over the low wall which separated the hallway divide. The deer head looked straight on down tha hall, a vacant stare in its beedy eyes.
“Okay, I’m really fucking tired, I need to get some sleep,” I whispered. Making my way to the top of the staircase, I tiptoed through the halls looking for room 13, all while keeping my head on a swivel. My room ended up being at the very back of the hallway. Slotting the key into the doorknob, I stopped and turned around when I heard something behind me. It sounded like a group of people whispering something unintelligible, just out of earshot. But there wasn’t anything there in the hallway behind me, just those vintage photographs sitting above burgundy carpets on brown floral wallpaper. Shaking my head, I quickly unlocked the door and pushed my way inside.
The room I stepped into seemed cramped. A double bed with a wooden frame sat against the wall, facing a lone window which revealed only tree branches on the other side. Two end tables accompanied the bed on each side, with a small attached bathroom at the foot of the bed. That was the extent of the room, but I didn’t spend any time thinking or complaining about the dimensions. Setting the candle down on the end table, I tucked myself in and closed my eyes.
Sleep did not come. Almost in an act of defiance, the room became unsettling and noisy the moment I closed my eyes. Branches hit the wall outside the window, creeks from the floorboards echoed beyond the closed door, and a faint scratching sound emanated from the bathroom.
Completely frustrated, I got up to investigate the scratching sound, but found nothing. The sound disappeared the moment I stepped foot into the bathroom, only to flare up again when I laid back down. Soon, even the sound of the candle became unbearable, keeping me awake with the crackling and burning wick. In a fit of irrational thinking, I blew out the candle and tucked my head between two pillows. A cold chill then swept over me and I opened my eyes.
That’s when I saw it. Perched on the ceiling, obscured by shadows of the night, was a distorted human face. Frozen in fear, I sat there and watched this face as it slowly moved across the ceiling, shifting its facial expressions in horrifying and inhuman ways. The thing looked like it was in constant agony. Once it hovered directly above me, I heard faint whispering coming from its mouth, the very same whispering I heard in the hallway earlier.
Ice ran through my veins when this shadowy face began to descend from the ceiling, heading right for me. Taking control of my body, I let out a piercing scream and jolted out of bed. Crashing through the door, I ran down the hallway. Time slowed as my heart blasted in my chest. Hundreds of those faces began materializing in the very walls, slowly floating out in my direction.
“No no no no, fuck this, fuck all of this, it can’t be real!”
My screams only seemed to anger the shadow entities, which now lunged out of the walls with glowing red eyes. Making a sharp turn, I bolted down the staircase, my feet crashing down loudly with each step. When I reached the bottom, I froze in horror. Blocking the hallway ahead stood a shadow figure ten feet tall, it had a rotting deer skull for a head with piercing red eyes. Horrible demonic whispering radiated from the creature as it lurched forward.
Booking it back up the staircase, I ran down the hallway opposite of room 13 until I hit a dead end with a single window. Turning to see that fucking Wendigo-esque beast hot on my trail, I made the decision to jump out of the fucking window. I landed hard into a thick blanket of bushes below, twisting my ankle in the process.
Quickly getting to my feet, I hoped out of the bushes and looked up at the window. A pair of red eyes locked with mine, no body to be seen. The eyes slowly backed off and disappeared into the darkness. Frantic, I ran through the thick foliage and back into the parking lot, where I thanked God to see and sit in my car.
I booked it out of that town and drove all night back up the highway until sunrise. Greg said I looked like mulled over shit when I arrived for the funeral, and I wasn’t able to offer the emotional support I wanted to give him. I took a different route entirely on the way back home, never even wanting to see the sign for that God forsaken town again.
The thing that bothers me, though, is that when I go back to look on Google maps, Twynesgrove isn’t there. Doesn’t even show up on old paper maps. Where, the fuck, did I go that night?