It was a dark and stormy night. No, I’m not kidding. Yes, I know how much of a cliche that opening sentence is, but unfortunately, it’s also accurate. I’m not talking about a little rain in the evening. I’m talking; it went from a sunny, nice afternoon to a pitch-black rainstorm with no warning.
“We’re lost.” I said flatly, “and my phone doesn’t have any signal.” I looked at my phone March 30th, 2023, 8 pm.
“It can’t be that much longer to the hotel. Tim said it was only an hour outside of Portland, and we passed through there more than 45 minutes ago. We’ll be there soon. I’m pretty sure it’s on this road.” John replied without looking at me and concentrating on the dark road ahead.
I was getting increasingly anxious in the passenger seat, my hands gripping the armrest.
“We should have brought a map,” I muttered, peering through the rain-streaked windshield.
“I thought Tim’s directions would be enough,” John said, his voice tight with frustration. “But this storm is making it impossible to see anything.”
The rain pounded against the car, making it hard to see the road ahead. The trees seemed to loom over us, casting dark shadows across the windshield. Every now and then, I thought I saw movement in the trees, a flash of blue, but when I looked closer, there was nothing there.
As we drove further down the road, the woods grew denser, and the trees seemed to press in on us from all sides. The air grew colder, and I shivered despite the heater blasting warm air. I had a sudden urge to turn back, to get out of this creepy forest and find another hotel. But before I could say anything, we rounded a bend in the road and saw a faded sign on the side of the road. “Motel,” it read, with an arrow pointing down a side road.
“That’s gotta be it,” John said, turning the car down the narrow road. As we drove deeper into the woods, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
The motel was a rundown building with peeling paint and flickering neon lights. John parked the car, and we made our way to the reception desk, the rain soaking through our clothes. The lobby was dimly lit, with a musty smell that hung in the air. A haggard-looking woman with stringy hair sat behind the counter, staring at us with dull eyes.
“We’re looking for a room for the night,” John said, trying to sound friendly. “Our friend Tim recommended this place.”
The woman just nodded and handed us a key. “Room 13,” she said in a monotone voice.
As we made our way down the dark hallway to our room, I couldn’t help feeling uneasy. The walls were stained, and the carpet was threadbare. The room itself was sparsely furnished with a lumpy bed and a flickering lamp.
“I don’t like this place,” I whispered to John. “It’s creepy.”
“I know,” he said, his voice low. “But it’s better than sleeping in the car in this storm. We’ll leave first thing in the morning and go see the lighthouse as I promised.”
After a fitful night’s rest, full of dreams of red eyes watching us through the trees, we were up early and ready to go explore. We had plans to go see a famous lighthouse first thing in the morning and were excited to get going.
Grabbing my phone, I was surprised and happy to see it fully charged. 8 am, March 31st, 2023. No new messages
“I bet breakfast is a bit too much to ask for here at the motel, huh?” I said to John jokingly.
“Let’s just hit a drive-though” he replied. “There’s gotta be something between here and the lighthouse. We can ask the woman at the desk.”
That was not meant to be, however, because when we got to the desk, there was no one to be seen.
“Oh well, “ John shrugged “Guess we’ll figure it out ourselves. At least there’s coffee!”
He poured himself a cup from the carafe sitting on the counter. “Want one?”
“Sure, thanks.”
We quickly polished off our coffee and got back into our car, ready to get going and see what we came all this way for.
While the storm had passed, the forest still loomed and was almost as uninviting and intimidating during the day as it had been in the previous night’s storm.
As we drove deeper into the forest, the trees seemed to blur together, their branches forming a never-ending maze. We hadn’t seen any signs of civilization for hours, and the silence was oppressive. The only other living being we encountered was a man in a blue rain slicker on a bike, always on the opposite side of the road, passing us by and disappearing into the distance behind us. He seemed to be the only other traveler in this vast, desolate landscape.
But as we drove on, something about the forest began to feel strange. The trees all looked identical as if they were part of some carefully crafted illusion. The road seemed to curve in on itself, leading us in circles.
“Have you noticed anything weird about this place?” I asked John, breaking the oppressive silence after a man in a blue slicker went by us again.
“Yeah,” he replied, glancing around at the endless sea of trees. “It’s like we’re going in circles or something.”
“And what’s up with that biker?” I gestured towards the man in the blue rain slicker, who had just popped up again, going past us on the opposite side of the road. “He keeps popping up like he’s following us, except he’s always in front of us.”
John shook his head. “I don’t know, but something feels off about this forest. We need to find a way out.”
After several hours, our car was almost on E. We hadn’t seen a gas station for hours and were getting nervous. However, once we rounded the next corner, I looked down again and realized the tank was full.
“John!, How long have we been driving? Did I fall asleep?” I asked, confused about how the tank was full.
“No,” he responded, “Why?”
“Have you looked at the gas gauge recently?”
“Yeah, I was just thinking we need to find a gas station ASAP.”
“Check again,” I replied “It looks full from here.”
John looked at the gas gauge and let out a surprised gasp. “How is that possible?” he muttered, clearly puzzled. “We were almost on empty just a few minutes ago.”
I couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease wash over me. It was as if the forest was toying with us, manipulating reality to suit its own twisted agenda. “I don’t like this,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s like this place is alive, and it’s playing games with us.”
John nodded, his expression grim. “We need to keep our wits about us,” he said. “Whatever’s happening here, we can’t let it get the best of us.”
But as we drove on, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched. The trees seemed to loom closer, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. And though we hadn’t seen the biker in the blue rain slicker for a while, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still out there, watching us from the shadows.
As we rounded another corner, a beam of light pierced through the darkness, illuminating the road ahead. We both let out a sigh of relief as we realized it was a lighthouse, standing tall and proud against the endless sea of trees.
“There it is,” John said, his voice filled with relief. “We made it.”
But even as we approached the lighthouse, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were still trapped in the forest’s grasp. The trees seemed to whisper to us, their voices a haunting melody that echoed through the darkness. And though the lighthouse was a beacon of hope, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was just another trick, another illusion designed to keep us trapped in this never-ending forest.
We brushed off the odd feeling as we scrambled to get out of the car. I checked my phone 10:34 am, March 31st, 2023. That makes sense, I thought to myself. I guess the forest just crept into our heads. The gas thing was weird, though.
I shook my head as if to get rid of the unwanted thoughts and sketched out feeling, wanting to get back to enjoying my vacation with my husband. Maybe the bad dreams from last night were just playing around with my subconscious still.
As we reached the lighthouse, we were both relieved to find that it was open for visitors. We climbed the spiral staircase to the top, enjoying the stunning view of the surrounding landscape. The sun was shining, the sea was calm, and for a moment, we forgot all about the strange forest we had encountered on the way here.
We spent a leisurely day at the lighthouse, taking in the sights and enjoying each other’s company. We explored the rocky shore, watching the waves crash against the cliffs. We took a boat tour around the lighthouse, marveling at the breathtaking beauty of the coastline.
As the day wore on, we both felt a sense of calm wash over us. The lighthouse was a place of safety and security, far removed from the strange, twisted forest that had haunted us earlier. We laughed and talked, enjoying each other’s company in a way we hadn’t been able to in a long time.
As the sun began to set, we made our way back to the car, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated.
As we drove back toward the forest, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. Despite the enjoyable day we had at the lighthouse, the memory of the strange forest still lingered in my mind.
“John,” I said, breaking the silence, “Do you think we made a mistake coming here? Maybe we should have just gone home.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, glancing over at me.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “The forest, it just feels…wrong. And what about that gas gauge? It doesn’t make sense.”
John thought for a moment before responding, “I know what you mean, but maybe it was just our minds playing tricks on us. We’re tired and stressed, and it’s easy to let our imaginations run wild.”
I nodded, but the unease still lingered. As we drove through the forest, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched, that something was waiting for us just beyond the trees.
Finally, we arrived back at the motel, and we quickly gathered our belongings and loaded them into the car. As we pulled out of the parking lot, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. We were leaving this strange place behind, and soon we would be home, safe and sound.
“Let’s just go home,” I said, turning to John. “I don’t want to stay here any longer than we have to.”
He nodded in agreement, and we drove off into the night.
As we drove closer to our home, the memories of the strange forest and the lighthouse began to fade. We were both exhausted from the long drive, and we were looking forward to finally getting some rest.
But as we rounded a bend in the road, I saw a figure up ahead. It was a man on a bike, wearing a blue raincoat, just like the one we had seen in the forest.
My heart began to race as we drew closer, and I could feel John tense up beside me.
“Is that…?” he started to say, but I cut him off.
“It’s him,” I whispered, my eyes fixed on the figure in the distance.
As we approached, the man looked up and met our gaze. For a moment, we just stared at each other, and I could feel a sense of dread rising in my chest.
But then the man simply nodded and rode off into the distance, disappearing from view.
We both sat there in silence for a moment, trying to process what had just happened.
“What the hell was that?” John finally asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied, still shaken. “But I have a feeling we haven’t seen the last of him.”
I woke up early this morning, ready to celebrate April and forget all about my encounter in the woods. but as I opened my eyes, I realized, I wasn’t where I thought I would be. Instead of my bed, my cat, and my familiar surroundings, I was in a sparsely furnished room. Blinking rapidly and hoping I was still dreaming, I realized I was in the motel. I quickly grabbed my phone and was surprised and happy to see it fully charged. 8 am, March 31st, 2023. No new messages.
What? But that wasn’t possible. We had already driven for hours, gotten lost in a never-ending forest, and visited the lighthouse. We were supposed to be back home.
I shook John awake, my voice trembling.
“John, wake up! Something’s wrong!”
He groaned and rubbed his eyes. “What is it?”
“We’re back at the motel. Like… before we even went to the forest.”
John looked at me skeptically, but as he took in our surroundings, his face slowly began to pale.
“I don’t understand,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
I didn’t have an answer for him.
As we solemnly got dressed and packed our bags, I couldn’t shake the feeling of deja vu. It was like we had done this a million times before.
John sighed. “Let’s get some coffee and figure this out.”
I nodded in agreement.
As we both sat at the motel’s small table, sipping coffee and staring off into space, the silence between us was palpable. Finally, John spoke up.
“I don’t understand what happened back there. It’s like we were stuck in some kind of loop, driving through the same stretch of forest over and over again, and now we’re back here at the motel?”
“I know,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. “It felt like we were going crazy. And then we ended up back here before we even entered the forest. Like it was all some kind of terrible dream.”
John nodded in agreement. “But it wasn’t a dream, was it? It was real. We both saw it, experienced it.”
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. “What do we do now? Do we just pretend it never happened? Or do we try to figure out what’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” John admitted. “But I do know one thing - I never want to go back to that forest again.”
But we had to try. We had to keep driving and hope that, someday, we would find a way out of this never-ending cycle.
As we climbed into the car and hit the road, I couldn’t help but wonder… how many times had we already tried this? And would we ever truly be free?
We’ve been driving for hours, trying to get home, but every time we get close, the man in the blue raincoat goes by, and our gas gauge is full. It’s still March 31st, 2023.