Out past where the asphalt turns to gravel, and gravel to dirt, miles beyond the point where no one can hear you scream, just before the woods turn into untamed wilderness, and atop a dirt incline that turns into an impassable mudslide in the rain, sits a small building that might generously be considered a cabin. Not far from the door, a faded sign hanging from a crooked old fence post reads “The Boring Motel” in pale gray letters.
Two rows of overgrown shrubbery enclose the front of a small “open” patio. Everything from the tables and chairs to even the floor is made entirely of cement. The only exceptions are the roof, an old porch swing held aloft by chains that were already rusty when I was just a child that honestly should’ve broken apart years ago, and a pair of windows on either side of the front door, that give the faint impression of watching you wherever you go almost like the eyes of a too-realistic painting. A small concrete walkway leads to an old fire barrel, filled with ashes, and desecrated bones that from some angles look a little too human, and from others look like they belong to something not of this world.
If you somehow managed to get past the two deadbolts, the chain, and the door lock that my grandmother installed on the front (and only) door, you would find what some might consider a dining room, but could better be described as an entrance way/dining room/living room. Most of it was pretty boring, a blocky wooden table overcrowded by a dozen blocky wooden chairs, three armchairs pointed at a tiny tv, and a couch that I’m not completely convinced isn’t carved from stone that’s made to look like fabric. On the opposite wall to the front door, between two bedroom doors that sat a few inches apart and the stairway to the second floor, was a broken mirror, but not broken in the way you would expect.
I’m not entirely sure how to explain it, but some bizarre defect in the mirror made it… unmirrored? Or maybe double mirrored. What I mean is that it does display your reflection, just not reflected. For example, if you raised your hand on the right side of the mirror, your reflection would raise it’s hand on the left side. It’s bizarre, but it’s totally benign, and more annoying than anything, especially if you’ve been using a normal mirror your entire life.
To the right was a kitchen that seemed perfectly normal aside from a microwave whose dish spins counterclockwise, a locked door whose keyhole was one of those old-timey circle/square patterns, and a drawer that makes whatever you put in it vanish.
You might think something like “That doesn’t seem THAT weird, most drawers do that sometimes, and that means you didn’t understand what I just said. It makes ANYTHING disappear. A few days ago I put a brick in it, and shut it slowly and carefully, straining my ears for any kind of movement, but when I reopened the drawer, it was just gone. There was no sound of a mechanism opening, or the brick hitting something on its way down. Nothing. It just vanished
The bathroom is simple. Just a sink shower and toilet. There was a mirror, but it’s broken. Actually broken. I’m not 100% sure what happened, but my grandma once told me a story about my grandfather’s friend smashing it years ago when his dead wife tried to pull him into it, or some other crazy delusion that was meant to keep the kids from playing with broken mirrors.
Everything else is pretty normal. There’s a game room right off the entranceway, that’s pretty much just a pool table, a poker table, and a bar. There’s a radio on a shelf that plays music I’ve never heard before, and whose existence I can’t find online. It’s all country, Norwegian metal, and another genre of music that I can only call heavy metal death polka. So I pretty much leave it alone.
The upstairs is basically just a series of bedrooms, separated by doorways so large they might as well not be there, but (unless I measured incorrectly) it’s about a foot and a half longer than is physically possible, like the walls are literally paper thin. More than that actually, it’s almost like they produce more space than is possible.
That was a really long way to tell you that this place is off. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that it’s weird because all of that has a reasonable explanation. The mirror is probably defective, the drawer has some hidden mechanism that I just haven’t found yet, the guy that shattered the mirror was probably just going crazy with grief, and the radio probably only picked up local stations. It was all rational, and it all made sense. Until it didn’t.
When I stepped out of my car, I expected to feel peaceful. I had thought that being hundreds of miles away from all of the problems and stresses of my life would feel freeing, but as I stood among the trees nearly completely isolated from the outside world the only thing I felt was anxious, and that sense of anxiety wasn’t helped at all by the state of the cabin.
I hadn’t seen it since I was thirteen, and either my memory had betrayed me, or the last decade had really made it show its age. The white siding looked like it was stained mucus yellow, but it was hard to tell through all the dirt and grime that had accrued on it. The two lines of shrubs that blocked the front from view, and bordered the cement walkway had become so overgrown that I couldn’t even see the front door. I knew my grandma had been the only one caring for the old place, and she had never asked for help but looking at how messed up it was I felt horrible for not at least offering.
Shoving away the guilt and anxiety I sidled through the branches blocking the entranceway, the short pine needles finding every possible way to hit me in the face in the short five-foot walk, the very last branch somehow managing to get briefly stuck in my short hair. I pulled hard on it, the effort making me stumble forward when I finally managed to untangle myself.
The unobstructed view of the cabin made my stomach drop. Something about the twin windows on either side of the door gave me the impression that it was staring at me, almost as if the building itself was sizing me up with a pair of dark hungry eyes.
I stepped forward, but my attention was caught on something in the right window. It was probably my imagination, but I could almost swear that I saw something moving…
A shrill high pitched shriek sounded behind me, making me physically jump into the air. In a fit of sheer panic, I spun around searching for my assailant when a second identical screech went off behind me again, this time sounding far less like a scream.
Embarrassed, but glad that nobody was there to see my mistake, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket, the “shriek” sounding a lot more like the high-pitched ring that I set as my ringtone. The screen read “Least favorite sister.” And after a brief internal debate, I answered the phone.
“Hey, Adam. Gram wants to know if you’re there yet.”
I stepped forward, pulled the keys out, and began undoing the myriad of locks while I answered. “Then why didn’t she call me?”
“Because she lost her phone.” She said, her voice tinged with annoyance. “Are you out of breath?”
“Yeah, your call scared the hell out of me. But I’m here. Actually, I just stepped out of my car.” As I finished that first sentence, high-pitched laughter came from the other end of the phone. “Yeah, this is why you’re my least favorite sister,” I said false bitterness filling my voice.
“I’m your only sister.” Her voice filled with mock anger.
“What’s your point?” I asked, finally undoing the last lock and popping the door open.
The inside of the cabin wasn’t much worse for wear than the outside. Every surface was coated in a thin layer of dust, and one of the empty bottles had jumped off a shelf in the game room, but other than that it was exactly as I’d remembered it.
“Whatever. Gram told me to remind you to follow the rules she gave you.”
I set my bag on the table and stalked over to the dusty old couch in the corner. When I lay down, it became instantly apparent how horrible of an idea that was. Dust flew everywhere, and I became painfully aware that this couch was either impossibly hard or more likely, a stone carved to look identical to a couch, including stitching. “Yeah,” I said, my voice strained. “I remember them.”
“Okay, what are they.” The tone of her voice made it clear that this was not a question, but an accusation.
“Uh…” my voice trailed off. As I tried to recall what my grandma had said, only to draw a total blank.
“Lock the door esp-“
She didn’t get a chance to finish, those few words jogging my memory. “Right! I remember now. Keep the doors locked, especially at night. Don’t invite anyone else in. Don’t open the door in the kitchen, and stay inside at night, and don’t go outside when it rains.”
“That’s five.” She said expectantly.
“Wow, you’re right,” I said sarcastically.
“Granny said there were eight, and if you don’t repeat them back to me now, I’ll give the phone to her so she can yell them at you.” There was real anger in her voice, and what I almost thought sounded like a hint of concern.
“Well, these last three aren’t really rules. I think grandma’s just losing it in her old age.”
After a minute of silence, I broke down and answered. “Fine,” I said petulantly. “Don’t talk to your reflection. If you see any doors that weren’t there before, don’t open them, and don’t open windows in your dreams.”
“You forgot, don’t be an idiot.” She added
“Grandma didn’t say that,” I replied, confused.
“You’re right. Consider it a piece of advice from the best sister in the world.” I heard something in the background like someone talking. “Just talking to my favorite little brother.” She said to someone on the other end of the phone.
“You always say little but I’m a foot ta-“ I didn’t get to finish my sentence as she cut me off.
“Gotta go, byeee-.” A sudden silence cut off her last word.
I lay on the oddly shaped stone and tried to decide what to do next. On one hand, the place was a mess that desperately needed a few dozen runs-through with a duster, a mop, and an industrial strength vacuum. On the other, I had just driven for almost eight hours, and I wanted nothing more than to relax for a while, and it’s not like the mess isn’t going to be there later…
I thought about it for a while weighing each option against the other, until eventually, without noticing my inner debate had stopped, I drifted off to sleep.
The sound of someone frantically pounding on the door made adrenaline crash into my sleep-addled body. I stood up, ignoring the stiff ache in my back, and the sting in my eyes. My brain was several steps behind my body as I stepped to the door. Time was moving slow and fast simultaneously like a sloth fired from a cannon.
“Wha- who is it?” I said, stumbling over my words.
A female voice called back “Oh my god, I’m so glad someone’s here! I need help!” She yelled, her voice frantic.
Without thinking I undid the locks and pulled the door open. Standing on the doorstep was a terrified-looking girl. If I had to guess I would say she was in her early twenties. She was unearthly pale, no doubt an effect of whatever had terrified her. Long tangled black hair framed two terrified green eyes that were so bright they almost looked like they were glowing.
When I spoke, I had to look down to make eye contact with her. “What happened?” I asked, the words tumbling stupidly out of my mouth.
She looked around, making quick jerky motions, almost as if she was searching for a monster that could leap from the shadows at any moment. “Can I come in?” She asked, her voice full of urgency.
My brain tried to catch up to everything that was going on, but mentally I was still trying to process why that couch was so uncomfortable, so instead of answering her question I spit out the first thing that came to mind. “Why?”
For the barest instant, an emotion that may have been annoyance flashed on her face, but then the fear returned. She spoke quickly, the horror that she must’ve felt making her words high-pitched. “I-I was driving on the interstate when my car broke down. I waited for my dad to come and help when some… Guy-“ she said the word like she wasn’t entirely sure that’s what it was. “Started harassing me. He tried to grab me, but I ran, and eventually, I got here. Can I please come in?”
Something about her story seemed off, I couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was in my half-awake state, but even if it was, could I really turn away a terrified girl who clearly needed help? I opened my mouth to say “Sure” but something entirely different came out instead like a single thought had managed to clear the malaise of drowsiness in my head. “The interstate? I had to drive on back roads for over an hour to get here.”
That look of annoyance flashed on her face again, this time clearer, and leaning more towards anger. “I ran really far.”
At that moment my brain finally caught up to the rest of me. Her hair was a mess, sure, but her clothing was spotless, and she was completely dry, not a drop of sweat on her. Even if she had been running as fast as I could drive down dirt roads, how had she done that in the middle of Summer without sweating or getting even a spot of dirt on her, and for that matter how wasn’t she out of breath?
Actually, now that I was paying attention I noticed that aside from a fearful tremble, it almost looked like she wasn’t moving at all. Not even breathing.
Then I met her eyes. They were the deepest, most beautiful shade of red I’ve ever seen. If you took an endless ocean full of roses, and combined it with a sunset casting the entire sky in its crimson brilliance, you still wouldn’t even have the faintest facsimile of the beautiful shade of red that they almost seemed to radiate. I was so lost in them that I barely heard the words she had spoken.
“Let. Me. In.” The words were sweet but forceful, and accompanied with a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.
The only thing that kept me from saying yes, that kept me from promising her anything I could for the rest of my life, was a single thought. A thought that felt like a light in the dark storm that had taken over my mind. I promised my grandma that I wouldn’t invite anyone in.
I pulled myself together, suddenly feeling very awake, and very tired. I just stared at her forehead, not daring to say a word, and being careful to avoid eye contact.
She stared at me, annoyance obvious on her face now. “Can I come in?”
I can’t honestly say that I was sure I was making the right choice. I mean, she was just a scared girl, probably around my age if not just a little younger. Then that beautiful shade of red, and the sensation of total submission I’d felt just seconds ago. Through clenched teeth, I said, “No. You may not.”
If looks could kill the one she gave me at that moment would’ve stopped my heart. She turned a little, her back pointed to the woods and spoke. Her voice was no longer sweet, but hateful, tinged with the faintest hint of sadism. “Listen you stupid fucking asshole. This time you got lucky, I don’t know how you resisted my gaze, but next time…”
For the barest instant, I thought she smiled at me, but then I saw what she was really doing. The small disheveled girl whose eyes were once again green was exposing two rows of sharp needle-like fangs that looked like they could pair flesh from bone in seconds. I was so distracted by them I barely noticed her back up into the woods until she disappeared behind a tree.
Now that the excitement had passed, I shut the door making damn sure to lock it behind me. I don’t remember going back to the couch, but the last thing I can recall before I returned to my slumber was the view of the ceiling and the intense feeling that someone was watching me from everywhere at once.
I’m not entirely sure if that encounter actually happened, or if it was just a weird dream brought about by inhaling copious amounts of dust, and the dangerous amounts of caffeine that had been in my system from the long drive.
I guess if anything else happens I’ll post it here, but for now, that’s all.