Page 3 of The Haunting of the Mountain

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Fire. Burn them to ash. If we toss those dolls, we’ll either wake up with them tucked in next to us or not at all because they strangled us in our sleep. Cursed,” she adds, under her breath.

A few minutes later, we find a parking spot, and I can’t help but laugh.

“We’re insane.”

Nell looks at me.

“Right? Cults and curses? Some sinister underbelly in this sleepy mountain town? It has been far too long since we’ve breathed air this fresh. Weneedto get out more.”

I can’t even remember the last time I had a date. As I reach for the cup of cider, I swear Nell’s about to knock my hand away.

She sighs, turning off the car and slumping back in her seat. “You’re probably right. They probably didn’t drug that cider. They’re not waiting in a nearby dark alley for it to take effect so that they can collect their next human sacrifices.”

I bring the cup to my lips, eyeing her over the rim. “I’m doing it.”

She watches me closely as I take my first sip, searching for any clue that something’s amiss, but there’snothingamiss. This cider is heavenly. Nectar of the small town gods. I might tell her it’s awful so I can take hers.

“Nell,” I moan. “The corn dolls might be cursed but this makes it all worth it.”

“I’ll hold off for now,” she says. “Just to be safe.”

“Let’s get you checked into this hotel so I can get to my haunted cabin.”

“You still want to go through with this?”

“Does Bigfoot poop in the woods?”

Nell grabs the keys and tries to put them into the ignition but I stop her. “Hey!”

She looks at me. “What? I thought you didn’t want to go through with it.”

I groan. “Because there’s no such thing as Bigfoot. Ha ha. I’d be happy to trade places with you. I’m going to be bored to tears talking to myself alone in a dark cabin all weekend.”

Not only does Nell get to stay at a gorgeous, rustic Inn for a few nights. She’ll be gallivanting through the forest, ’Squatch hunting with some strapping mountain man guide. I shouldn’t have agreed to this switcharoo.

“You bring that energy and you’ll be in for it. Ghosts feed on negativity.”

“I’m not being negative. I think it’s comical that you’d rather believe this town is a part of some cult than in Bigfoot. I think that requires a bigger leap than an elusive animal who lives deep in the mountains and avoids humans. Hell, I think I’m looking at one of his descendants now.”

A large. Scratch that. Amassivemountain of a man, clad in flannel, walks by our car, and I can’t help but stare. I’ve never seen someone that big before.

“Well,” Nell says as we both follow the burly man’s lumbering gait down the sidewalk before he disappears inside the Whispering Winds Inn. “I guess we should go into this with eyes wide open.”

I snort.

“Come on, let’s go.”

“It doesn’t look haunted.”

The drive from Whispering Winds took longer than I expected, but we’re finally here. I wasn’t nervous before, but the realization of spending the weekend alone this far from civilization is finally setting in.

“Famous last words,” Nell says as she parks the car in front of the cabin.

I groan. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“You’ll be fine. Keep that crucifix and holy water nearby in case of emergency.”

I snort. “Ghosts aren’t the scary thing. This looks like some serial killer’s cabin. Like, are we sure this isn’t some scam to lure unsuspecting women out here to a kill shack? I’m keeping my bear mace with me at all times, not a squirt gun filled with holy water.”

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