In East Tennessee, tucked away deep in the shadows of the looming Great Smoky portion of the Appalachian mountains, lives the tiny, sleepy, all but forgotten town of Coldwater Springs. Once a promising tourist destination, the town enjoyed a couple of decades of success, given its attractive geography and proximity to growing areas like Johnson City and Knoxville. However, old money and new highways pushed southbound to places like Gatlinburg and Pidgeon Forge, leaving behind the not as accessible Coldwater Springs. Essentially overnight it became a ghost town, an empty mountain hollow no different than the countless others that crawled out hundreds of miles in all directions.
I, however, found this place to be the ideal destination for my yearly solo getaway. As a single man in my late twenties with highly introverted needs, renting a cabin in a place like Coldwater Springs and getting out of sight for a few days seemed like the perfect way to de-stress and realign myself. So, after saving up my allotted time off, and tapping into my vacation account, I made the four hour trip from my place in Nashville to the foothills and ultimately monsterous mountains of East Tennessee, leaving early enough to get there before sunset. I had found a cabin for an absolute steal, a few miles outside of Coldwater. Blasting my classic country road trip playlist, I was finally relaxed, essentially floating on the voice of Lefty Frizzell as I turned off a long, lonely highway, onto a not as long, but twice as lonely, gravel road.
“Now this is more like it” I said to myself.
Although the sun was still high, shadows poured over the mountain tops and onto everything within my view as the gravel road snuck in between the earthly behemoths. For at least two miles I didn’t come across one house, or even power lines. I began to wonder if I had turned onto the correct county road, and the smaller voice within me questioned whether or not I was being led out here to become another mysterious Appalachian statistic. I laughed it off, given that the blue line of my GPS still shot out in front of me, and seemed to be nearing its end.
“You’re here to chill, buddy. Just enjoy yourself” I whispered to my rear view reflection.
Finally, I saw electric lights and three mailboxes as I reached the end of the gravel road. I recognized the address of my cabin, the center and furthest residence. I looked around at my temporary neighbors. To my right, darkness and no signs of any human activity. I read from my host online that two of the three cabins were year round rentals and the other was owned by a sweet, elderly widow that loved to help out vacationers and was even well known for sharing from her huge garden. Looking over toward her home, I could see porch lights up higher on the mountain, a few hundred feet. Pleased with the truthfulness of the online listing, I began down my rented driveway. About a quarter mile uphill, I was greeted by my own set of porch lights shining from a beautiful little cabin.
A green roof, painted dark brown logs, and electricity. Ahh. My needs were simple but very important. Although the late afternoon shadows covered most of my vista, I could already tell that the place was even more beautiful than the pictures suggested. I parked, grabbed my bags, and walked up the porch steps and through the front door. It was a one bed, one bath dream house. The smell of pine washed over me and the lodge decor stole my heart. A deerskin lamp had already been turned on, splashing warm light over the interior. On my right was my bed, with wooden frame and a stitched quilt covered in brown bears. On my left was a kitchen area, and I saw several Appalachian cookbooks on the counter. I would have to check those out for sure. The walls were covered in game and fish trophies of all kinds, from elk to largemouth bass. There was no tv and no WiFi, which was fine with me. I had brought a short stack of novels that I planned on picking clean during my week long stay.
Having unpacked and settled in, I strolled out the front door and onto the string-lit porch. The night was cool and growing ever dark. The white noise of the deep forest was rich, with a chorus of nocturnal creatures singing out full voiced, celebrating another evening of life. I looked across the hollow and could clearly see the home of my neighbor, well lit against the shadows of the heights. Much to my surprise, she was standing on her porch, looking over at me. I couldnt make out many of her features given the backlighting, save for her silhouette, with white hair visible and sitting like a crown on her small, dark frame. She stood as still as the pines that made up her home.
With exaggerated movement, I gave her a big wave with my right arm, letting her know I was supposed to be here, just another tenant in search of few beautiful days of escapism in her neck of the woods. She didn’t return the gesture, however, staying perfectly still there on the corner of her dimly lit porch.
“Maybe she can’t see me” I thought to myself.
I felt the need to at least call my host and try to get a number for her house so that I could let her know who I am and why I’m there. Luckily there was a landline phone at my cabin and I had the mans number saved. He answered after a couple of rings and I let him know I that I had arrived safely and was very pleased with the place, and told him I saw the neighbor and would like to call her and at least audibly introduce myself.
“Oh, you saw Mrs Klein?” He said. “That’s good to hear. Haven’t heard from her in a few weeks and was starting to worry. I haven’t had any other renters in a while and haven’t made my way there either in a hot minute.”
He gave me her number and I once again thanked him and we ended our conversation. I dialed her up and held the phone to my ear as I walked back out onto the porch, waiting for my call to be answered. Looking back over toward her house, though, I was almost shocked to see that all of the lights had gone dark. I couldn’t see a thing, much less any signs of a wakeful human. The phone rang and rang to no avail and to no voicemail.
“Must’ve gone to bed” I whispered to myself.
Having not thought too much of it, I returned my attention to further settling in and enjoying my evening. Within ten minutes, I was posted in a comfortable chair on the porch in the cool night air, already several pages into a mystery novel and several sips into a glass of Cabernet. Yes, this was just what my tired soul longed for. I was finally giving myself what I had needed for months. My senses were all satisfied, and the comforting music of the woods at night really wrapped it all together with a bow. After a while I found my eyes growing heavy from a long day of traveling, and I leaned my head back in a moment of blissful surrender.
I jolted awake after what could’ve been a couple of minutes or several hours. Something was wrong. Something seemed off. In my disorientation I finally realized that the peaceful sounds that had rocked me to sleep were all gone. The woods around me were dead silent. It was like the night had quickly drawn and held its breath. I instinctively held mine, too, as to let my hearing sharpen given the strange and sudden situation. I sat there for several minutes, book still in hand, completely still and quiet, anxiously needing an answer for this strange muting of nature.
Suddenly, from a couple hundred feet down in the dark hollow below, I heard movement. The brush rustled, sharply cutting through the silence. Birds scattered from the tops of trees above the noise. From my point of view it seemed to be moving left to right, coming no closer but going no further from me. I was laser focused, trying to get a blind read on what the hell it could be. Suddenly the rustling stopped. I remained frozen in my chair, unblinking, staring out into the night. As my eyes got used to the dark I was finally able to make out a large shape down where the noises were coming from. Although distinct features were lost in my poor vision, I saw the outline of a huge animal. It towered above the brush, maybe 10 feet tall and several feet wide. It was only barely moving, slightly swaying. Whatever it was, it knew I was there. After another few moments of silence, the large shadow sunk down to the forest floor, and rattled further down the hollow, away from me. Although possibly delirious, I could’ve sworn I heard a whistle. A low, slow, human-like whistle. The animal kept moving away until finally it was out of earshot. A couple minutes later, the night resumed its orchestra, and all the insects and frogs began to sing again, the mysterious danger having left. After a long moment of relief, yet disbelief, I finally gathered the courage to slowly stand up and creep my way through the door and back into the cabin.
I locked the door behind me, breathing heavily. I walked over to the window, my mind racing. What was that thing? My first thought was a bear. This is black bear country, after all. Yeah, that had to have been it. Black bears usually aren’t much of a threat to those of us who aren’t unsealed garbage cans. Yeah, that’s what it was. Easily explainable. I kept reassuring myself, although in the back of my mind I knew that what I saw was way larger than your run of the mill black bear. I reminded myself that my eyesight was skewed, making shadows stretch and making objects appear bigger than they actually are. I began to calm down, as logic seeped into my anxious mind like strong medicine.
“Okay, okay, we’re good. We’re fine” I told myself out loud. I made sure the door was locked tight and that all the windows were shut snugly. I kept the porch lights on and lit a candle by my bedside, further comforting me, and reminding me where I am and why I’m here in the first place. I sat on my bed, book in hand, ready to resume my reading. Before I began, I scanned the inside of the cabin once more and glanced outside. Looking to my right through the kitchen window , I noticed a dim light across the hollow, once again coming from the neighbors house, whom I now know to be owned by one Mrs Klein. I stood up and walked across the room, putting my hands on the window pane and leaning over the sink to get a better view.
My skin began to crawl and I felt my heartbeat accelerating. The light was not from the porch this time, but from inside the house. From a wide window, I could see the dark, unmoving outline of the elderly woman facing toward me. She had turned on a lamp and just seemed to be staring toward my cabin. I still couldn’t distinguish many features about her, but under her snowy hair I could see her eyes, flown wide open, as if out of pure terror. They were almost glowing. This startled me to say the least, as my own eyes widened out of fearful instinct. After not even ten seconds of this long distance staring contest, the old lady’s lamp was extinguished and her cabin was once again drowned in total darkness.
I blinked hard several times and backed off the sink. Seeing curtains on the windows edge, I pulled them tight, cursing myself for not noticing them earlier. I did the same to every other window in my cabin. I went back and sat on my bed, bewildered and tired. What a strange night.
“No, it’s all good. Everything is explainable” I reassured myself. “Tomorrow I’ll go introduce myself to her and probably love her instantly. This will be great. AND that animal was probably just a little black bear. Just gotta keep my powder dry and make sure there’s no trash left out”
Feeling a little better after my own pep talk, and thinking realistically, I was finally able to unwind into the world of my book, and ultimately into the world of dreams.
I slept through the night and woke up around 9am, when the beams of morning finally found their way down the mountainside to the hollow. I stretched and yawned, feeling refreshed after a surprisingly good nights rest.
The night before felt like a weird dream, but in the light of day it all seemed a lot less scary and strange. I was excited, even. Today I would spend some time exploring the land around my cabin. It sat on dozens of acres, with trails and ponds and creeks all around. Before that, however, I would go meet Mrs Klein and hopefully develop a good rapport, and maybe even a lifelong friend. I also needed some groceries and other items from town, and I was looking forward to seeing Coldwater Springs in all of its overlooked glory.
Yes, the day was planned. I started a pot of coffee and took a shower. After I was cleaned off I got dressed, caffeinated, and was out the door. I cranked the car and began heading down my driveway and over to Mrs Klein’s place. I parked by her mailbox and started walking the long driveway uphill. I didn’t see a car, but I saw a closed separate garage, so I assumed it was in there. Her cabin was very similar to mine, maybe a little bigger. The porch was definitely bigger, with large rock steps leading to it from her gravel driveway. On the left side of her house was her apparently ever popular garden. It really was huge. However, upon nearing it, I noticed that the vegetables looked anything but healthy. Weeds had all but overtaken the entire thing. “As if I could do any better” I thought to myself, not wanting to judge. I made my way across the rock steps and up onto her porch. A large stack of letters and packages were strewn around on her doormat, which displayed in large text the words “YOU MADE IT!” My brow raised after seeing all the unopened mail so haphazardly left all about. Oh well, I was just there to shake hands and explain myself.
I knocked three times on the front door. I waited, listening for any stirring whatsoever. After about twenty seconds of silence, I knocked again, this time a little louder. Ouch. It hurt my knuckles to knock hard on her door. That was odd, given everything was made out of pine. It had no give, though, and was hard as stone. It wasn’t until I noticed the slim windows on each side of the door that I realized why it was so firm. 2x4 boards lined up over the door from the inside, completely sealing it shut.
“What….the….” I said aloud, jostling the locked doorknob. I walked over to the wide window to the right of the door, the one I had seen her looking out of just hours before.
“No” I whispered. It was completely boarded up as well, with not even a centimeter of space to peer inside. This could not be real. I then walked around the entire cabin, looking for any door or window that may have been open. They were all nailed shut, leaving the cabin completely entombed. I ran to the separate garage and tried to open the sliding door. It was open! I pulled it all the way up and looked inside. There sat a dusty old Z71, but it looked like it was in good shape. That gave me a little relief. I still had no explanation for the house being boarded, given I had literally SEEN her in her OPEN window the night before.
I walked back to my car and drove back up to my cabin. I had to call my host and tell him the news. I walked in and dialed him and he answered. I told him everything.
“Okay, okay, that’s a little weird, but I’m sure it’s all fine” he told me, “few months ago she mentioned maybe moving over to Asheville to live with her younger sister. Figure she would’ve let me know, but hey, that’s neither here nor there. She’s a grown woman. Go ahead and go about your day, and, just to be safe, I’ll get the sheriff out there for a wellness check”
I thanked him and hung up. Hopefully by the end of the day I’d have a lot more information about her whereabouts. I got back in my car and took off down the long gravel road, back toward at least an inkling of civilization.
Turning back onto the highway at long last, I rolled my windows down, taking in the scenic Appalachian views and fresh air. It truly felt like I was in another world, a world of peace and striking beauty. The highway twisted and turned through towering mountains and past roaring rivers. After about 20 minutes I came upon Coldwater Springs proper. I drove around the old town square, which surrounded an age old courthouse. Most buildings were condemned and desolate. I did however see a small country grocery on one corner. I parked and walked in to find a charming old market. I gathered a few items and proceeded to be checked out by a smiling, middle aged woman, with reading glasses around her neck and a red apron around her waist.
“Well where are you from, handsome?” She sweetly asked.
I laughed politely and told her I was from Nashville and was staying a few days out in a cabin off of highway 67, about twenty miles north.
“Oh my, you’re really out of your way, huh? “, she replied, her eyes narrowing. She paused for a brief moment, glancing down quickly and then back up. “Well I hope you enjoy your stay. You know, out there where you are, they call those the Singing Mountains.”
Slightly taken aback by her reaction to where I was staying, I asked why they call them by that name.
“It’s because when the wind rolls through those hollers, it sounds like a choir singing” she said with an intermittently silver-toothed smile that I hadn’t noticed before.
I returned a smile at the explanation, satisfied. I asked her if there was anywhere to get a bite to eat in the area, as I was starving and didn’t plan on being home for a little while longer.
“Oh yeah you’re gonna want to try the Coldwater Duck-In just down the road. Best burger and catfish in town.” She answered, as she finished ringing me up.
That sounded really good, so I thanked her and grabbed by bags and walked back out to my car. I had a little cellular signal so I plugged in the restaurant on my GPS and away I went. Not even ten minutes down the road past the town square I pulled up onto a humble little dive that sure enough had the name Coldwater Duck-In. A little shack of a place, it had plenty of cars and motorcycles parked out front, and neon signs boasted about having the best burgers and coldest beer in town. This worked for me. I walked through the front door and into a quaint little bar and grill, complete with pool tables and televisions and even an old school cigarette vending machine. There were several groups in there already enjoying their fares. I got a few looks as I cozied up to the bar shyly. I’m sure they weren’t used to seeing new faces around here.
“Hey friend, what can I get ya started with?” A forty something man with dark hair and tired eyes asked me.
After glancing at the menu for a second, I asked him for a light draft beer and a regular cheeseburger with fries.
“Good choice, you’ll love it. Where ya in from? Don’t think I’ve seen your face before?”
I told him my story and where I was staying, laughing as I told him how the lady at the grocery store referred to the area as the Singing Mountains.
His face fell.
“Singing Mountains, huh.”
A slight hush fell over a couple tables who were close enough to hear our conversation.
“How’s it been out there?” He asked.
The reaction of the man and the people around us made me nervous, but I answered and told him it was beautiful and peaceful, although I had to mention the animal situation from the night before. I asked him if there were a lot of black bears over in that area.
He leaned in close and his voice got real deep and soft.
“There’s a lot more than bears out there in those woods, son” he told me sternly and absolutely, before leaning back up and walking away to the kitchen.
After an anxious few minutes nursing my beer, he returned with my burger, which looked amazing. I thanked him and dug in, cleaning my plate in less than half an inning of a college baseball game that was on the bar television.
I stood up to pay him, but he refused.
“On me son. But, if I can offer you a word of advice, I’d keep inside after sunset over where you are. It be can dangerous. Now come back and see us.” He told me, before giving me a small grin, and a quick head nod.
I thanked him, way too anxious to ask why it would be that I would want to stay indoors at night over where I was staying. I was also way too scared to ask about the whistling I heard from the unidentified beast in the forest, which I had forgot to mention.
I got back in my car and spent the early afternoon driving around the area. I stopped and walked a trail at a local state park and saw a waterfall, and took tons of pictures. It was truly paradise. I felt so far removed from my daily troubles back in the city, and I even began to forget the strange warnings the man at the restaurant had given me, and the odd goings on of the place I was staying.
I wanted to get back with enough daylight to explore the land around my cabin, so I ended up back past the town square and onto the northbound highway toward the Singing Mountains. Once again I was lost in the heart of true country music as I got back onto the gravel road.
Fields flew by me as I made my way back near the end of the drive. I kept smiling and breathing deeply until I finally noticed there was a commotion coming from way up ahead where the road ended. There was a sheriffs truck, two police cars, and a white unmarked SUV parked outside of Mrs Klein’s house. The SUV was pulling out of her driveway and rolled down the rode, passing me. The men driving had gaunt faces and shot me a hardened look as they went by.
What. Was. Going. On?
I continued past them and rolled to a stop by Mrs Klein’s mailbox. A man in a tan uniform was on her porch talking to a couple of officers. I assumed him to be the sheriff in question. Next to them was the front door, gaping, having been breached with force. I clenched my jaw at the sight.
The sheriff noticed me and shot looks at the officers before returning his gaze my way. Alone, he walked down the porch stairs and into his truck, which then back down the steep driveway over to me. He got out and walked toward my window, which I rolled down with haste.
“Afternoon. You the fella staying over at Jeff’s place?” He asked.
In my poor memory, I hadn’t even registered that my hosts name was Jeff, so I stared at the sheriff in a moment of confusion before answering yes.
“Well he called me to come visit Mrs Klein on your behalf, I believe. Is this right?”
I nodded.
“Well, I’ve since called him back as well” he continued, “but I figure you should know too, since you’re the reason I’m out here in the first place” he paused with a big breath, “Mrs Klein has sadly passed. Now I don’t suspect any foul play so I don’t need anything from ya but thought you should know.”
I was shocked. He could read it all over my face. I didn’t know what to say. Finally I found the energy to ask him what happened and to ask him about all the boards.
“Not entirely sure, son. Mrs Klein was a tender hearted woman. She never caused any trouble and she was always sweet and helpful to Jeff and his visitors. However…” he paused again with another breath, “she would sometimes act a little…off. Would rant to Jeff and myself and others about conspiracy bull and strange creatures and whatnot. Just her age I reckon. Must’ve had an episode, boarded herself in so she’d be safe from all her delusions or whatever, and, well, forgot to make a way out.”
I told him that she was acting strange the night before, staring out her window at me and not answering her phone. I told him she must’ve boarded it all up in the early hours of the morning. He lowered his brow and looked at me like I had just spoken some alien language.
“Son, the coroner just drove off with the body, and he says she’s been dead for weeks, maybe even a couple of months.” He paused, “Now I don’t know what you’re smokin over there, but I know Jeff wouldn’t allow it, and I sure as hell don’t allow it. So get on, keep your nose clean, and we’ll be in touch if we need anything else” he told me, tapping the top of my car and cursing under his breath.
I drove slowly on past them and over to my driveway and up the hill, not even remotely registering what I had just been told. Blankly staring through my windshield, I fumbled for my keys and opened the door, using muscle memory to get out and walk up the stairs and into my cabin, where I more or less collapsed onto the bed.
That simply had to be wrong. She had to have been alive last night. I know what I saw. Right? I wasn’t sure anymore. I sprang back up and rushed to the phone. I dialed Jeff but got no answer. I tried again. Nothing. I couldn’t be in there anymore, not where I could look out the window and in my minds eye see the dark figure standing, watching me in the lowlight from across the hollow.