Whispering Pines Inn

Emerald

The relentless downpour mercilessly beats against the windshield, forming a thick, translucent curtain that distorts my view of the road. My wipers are on but they struggle to keep up with the onslaught of raindrops. As someone who has always struggles with night vision, I had made the cautious decision to exit the highway when the rain started about an hour ago. Seeking refuge from the storm, I pulled off at a small gas station and took the opportunity to fill up my car before going inside to use the bathroom and grab some snacks. When I was ready to continue my journey, I changed my GPS route to avoid the dangerously slick interstate, instead opting for the winding city streets and deserted backroad highways that offered slightly better visibility in the downpour.

I take a quick look at the estimated time of arrival displayed on my GPS and let out a sigh. The rain is still pouring down, and it seems to begetting even heavier. Up ahead, through the rain, I can barely make out a sign that indicates there’s an Inn in the next town. As much as I don’t want to stop for the night, the storm shows no signs of letting up. I just hope the Inn is decent; with this storm only getting worse, it’s not like I have much choice.

After a long, slow journey of twenty minutes through the relentless rain, I finally catch sight of the welcoming sign for the town. The words are almost obscured by the downpour, but I manage to make out "Welcome to Whispering Pines, population 2,842." I whisper it to myself as if in a daze.

As I pass the welcome sign, my eyes catch a glimpse of another, almost hidden from view. It's a speed limit sign, indicating that the maximum speed in this town is only thirty-five mph. Despite already driving below the previous speed limit, I double check my speedometer just in case. In small towns like this, they tend to have strict regulations for unfamiliar vehicles passing through. That's been my experience at least.

Continuing on through the town, which surrounded by various types of pine trees that seem to enclose it like protective walls, I can't help but feel like I'm driving through the heart of a forest. The quaint buildings and homes all blend in seamlessly with the lush greenery. As I keep an eye out for a sign pointing me towards the Inn where I'll be staying, I can't help but feel a sense of peace wash over me.

After a few minutes of driving through the town, I finally come across a sign that reads, "Whispering Pines Inn" with an arrow pointing to the right. I follow the direction and turn onto the road that leads out of town. The road becomes narrower as it winds through the forest.

Driving deeper into the forest, the rain starts to subside until it eventually stops completely. A few drops still manage to seep through the trees and land on my windshield. Part of me knows this is because I'm in the densest part of the forest, but another part of me, eager to reach my destination, wants me to turn back and make sure it's still raining on the main road.

As I continue to drive through the dense, eerie forest, the twisting trees seem to reach out and swallow up the road behind me. Doubts start to creep in as I wonder if the sign I saw earlier was actually pointing me in the right direction. But just when I thought I might be hopelessly lost, and my anxiety starts to dig her ugly claws into my thoughts, a glimmer of hope appears in my headlights - an old wooden sign swinging on its chains ahead. My heart skips a beat as I eagerly approach it and read the words “Whispering Pines Inn”. I pass by with bated breath and a magnificent structure slowly emerges from the darkness. With each passing moment, more details become visible but my headlights could only reach so far. It appears to be a charming cottage with three levels, each one adorned with delicate verandahs. A tall turret rises up from the back of the cottage, adding an air of mystery to its already enchanting appearance. Drawing closer, my heart skips another beat as I fall deeper and deeper in love with this dream-like cottage. Its as if my childhood fantasies have come true in this charming cottage nestled within the woods.

As I approach, the gravel crunches beneath my tires and I realize there’s no designated parking area for the cottage. So, I slowly bring my car to a stop right in front of the charming structure. Stepping out of the car, I stretch my arms and try to relieve some of the stiffness in my back from the long drive. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a gentle glow through the trees surrounding the cottage. This luminous light gives me just enough visibility to see that the owners have created a small paradise here, with every flower and bush carefully placed to create a warm and inviting atmosphere.

I follow the path that winds through the gardens, my gaze falling on each one that surrounds the structure, their vibrant colors and sweet scents drawing me closer. Continuing down the path, I try not to get too distracted by the blooming flowers. But as I approach the steps leading to the porch, I can’t help but pause and admire the enchanting beauty of the cottage before me. My heart skips a beat at the sight before me. It stands like a fairy tale come to life, lights twinkling from within and illuminating its charming details. Unable to contain my excitement any longer, I start to make my way up the steps, but suddenly, I hear a rustling among the trees behind me that catches my attention. “She’s here! She’s finally returned to us!” The whispered words seem to float on the gentle breeze that brushes against my skin like a welcome embrace.

With a quick twist of my body, I spin around surveying the surrounding darkness with narrowed eyes as I strain to make out any signs of life. But the shadows offer no solace, revealing nothing but silent stillness. As I scan the area, my heart picks up its pace with anticipation, but there’s no one in sight. A sigh escapes me as I continue up the steps towards the house. Just as I reach the top step, the porch light flickers on and reveals a stunning oak front door. Its intricate carvings catch my eye, and I can't resist running my hand across its smooth surface, tracing each line and curve with my fingers. This simple pleasure amuses me as I reach for the handle and begin to push it open.

But then, I hear a rustling in the trees once more. A gentle breeze brushes against me, carrying whispered words that make me pause: “Welcome home, my child.” Stepping back from the doorway, I walk over to the porch railing and peer into the darkness again, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever is speaking to me.

“Hello?” I call out tentatively.

The trees sway in response, their leaves rustling and branches creaking as if they hold secrets within them. A stream of hushed voices carried by the wind reaches my ears, making me shiver with both fear and fascination. It's as if the trees themselves are speaking to me. I let out a nervous laugh at the absurd idea before shaking my head and turning back towards the front door. "Don't be ridiculous," I scold myself under my breath as I reach for the handle once more.

But before I step inside, I look back at the dimly lit yet enchanting forest and can't help but wonder - was it just my imagination or something else entirely?