Page 1 of Terrible Desires

Chapter One

This Halloween is going to be different, I decide. No trick-or-treating, or screaming children high on sugar, no yards littered with tacky store-bought decorations, or teenagers in slutty costumes walking the streets with their parents’ stolen liquor. This All Hallows’ Eve is going to be just me, myself, and a cute chalet with river views. I’m going to have peace and quiet.

Don’t get me wrong … I love the seasonal celebrations—but not the commercial, cookie-cutter holiday they’ve become. Fall is genuinely my favorite time of year … the cool, crisp weather, the changing colors, falling leaves, the rain, and then the resulting petrichor! This season is in my blood, and I truly appreciate what Halloween traditionally represents—a time of change, closure, of embracing the darkness that’s to come, and a chance to say a final farewell to our loved ones who’ve had to cross over.

With my mind made up, I book in my stay, pay online, and pack an overnight bag. Anchorage is a beautiful city, but I’m a solitary soul and like to keep to myself. I love nothing more than an opportunity to snuggle up with a good book or chill out with snacks and a horror movie. I’m basically the furthest thingfrom a social creature one could be. And college life has drained my social meter into the red. I need to recharge, indulge, and just enjoy the fresh air and nature.That’ll do it.

Boarding the coach the following morning with a pumpkin spice latte, dressed in my favorite jeans, a black sweater, and a bright, rust-colored scarf, I pull on my matching beanie over my long, red hair and rest my bag on my lap. The journey is scenic and peaceful and takes just under three hours. I spend most of the time staring at the window, daydreaming, with my earbuds in, listening to heartachingly beautiful piano covers of Slipknot songs.

When we finally reach our destination, a bed-and-breakfast situated on the pristine Kasilof River, I grab my bag and step out into the cool mountain air, sucking in a deep lungful. It’s invigorating and pure, and I feel immediately at ease. There’s not a single screaming child or vagrant teen in sight. With a little skip in my step, I note I’m the only one who gets off the coach at this stop and wave politely to the driver, before heading to Reception. The doorbell rings as I step into the cozy lodge and an elderly female clerk smiles brightly at me.

“Hello, do you have a reservation?” she asks as she opens the day’s bookings on her computer.

Lumping my bag over my shoulder, I smile in return. “Hi, yeah. It’s under Brianna Rookwood. I booked online—Cabin Thirteen I think it was.”

The receptionist looks up at me, her expression fleetingly troubled. “I see your reservation,” she confirms. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to choose one of the cabins closer to the main lodge? I can move you, no charge.”

I grin and shake my head. “I know some people can be superstitious this time of year, but thirteen is a lucky number for me, so I’m happy to keep the cabin I booked, thank you.”

“It’s not so much superstition, dear, as it is a matter ofsafety. Cabin Thirteen is our most remote cabin. It’s not up here on the ridge, overlooking the river, it’s quite a way down the ridge, just up from the shore. As a young woman on her own, I just have your best interests at heart. I’d hate for anything to happen to you.”

Offering the elderly receptionist a smile, I lean on the high counter. “This place has fantastic reviews, so I’m not too worried. Besides, I chose that cabin for that very reason. I’m a bit of hermit—I like my solitude. I’m really excited about the alone time, actually.”

The receptionist’s lips purse momentarily, her eyes darting back and forth with indecision as she taps her mouse repeatedly. “Are you sure I can’t convince you? I’ll throw in a buffet breakfast and a half-price discount on your next stay.”

A frown mars my brow. I find myself feeling a little put out that the receptionist seemssokeen to stop me from staying in the cabin I paid for. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” I ask. “Is the cabin out of order?”

“Oh, no, dear,” she says quickly. “All our cabins are operational and maintained to the highest standard. We pride ourselves on our service and our visitors’ enjoyment, here at Red Pine Ridge Bed and Breakfast.”

“Then as much as I appreciate the generous offer and the extra bonuses, I’d really just like the keys to Cabin Thirteen so I can get settled in, please. The sooner, the better.”

The receptionist bites her lower lip and leans closer, her pale blue eyes searching. “There have been reports, albeit infrequent, of something that calls that part of the forest home, dear. Some say it’s a wildcat, others say a giant, territorial moose, and others have just heard strange sounds or seen hulking shadows…”

I reach down over the counter and snitch the keys from her trembling hand, before giving her a wide grin. “That’s thebeauty of this sort of place,” I say. “It has its own little spooky stories and local legends. It’s just perfect this time of year. Thank you for having me. I’ll see you when I check out,” I assure her as I move to head back out the door when she calls out to me again.

“Brianna, dear, if you need anything at all, just call. The line to reception is on the back of the key tag. I’m available at any time, no matter the hour.”

Puzzled by the old woman’s behavior regarding my booking, I just nod and take my leave with a forced smile.That is one crazy boomer… ormaybe she’s just easily spooked?I wonder. Either way, no threat of Big Foot, the Mothman, or backwater cryptid tales are going to prevent me from enjoying this getaway! I’ve looked forward to it for months. “Thank you. I appreciate that,” I say as I exit.

Stepping back out into the crisp air, I sigh. It’s an absolutely beautiful, overcast day, and according to my weather app, it’s supposed to rain later. I couldn’t ask for more pleasant circumstances. There’s nothing like snuggling up alone with a fire, cup of hot chocolate in hand, reading as it rains softly outside.

Chapter Two

With my key in hand, I make my way through the recreational areas of the bed-and-breakfast, past a simple but colorful children’s playground, a crystal-clear pool, a well-maintained green for lawn bowls, and an area reserved for caravans and tents. On my way I pass the first twelve log cabins. Each one is picturesque and spaced nicely, as to offer peace and privacy to its tenants. But before long, I run out of ridge, and I’m trekking my way down a rather steep but verdant embankment that leads to the river.

“Oh, my God,” I say under my breath as I readjust my bag and allow myself to drink in the scenery. The river is just beautiful. Its fast-flowing waters are lined on either side by lush green banks, and rocky shores that spread back into the Red Pine Ridge Forest. The forest is positively ancient, and the further I walk, the more I realize just how untouched some areas of nature still are. Aside from the rough trail upon which I walk, you’d never guess people had set foot on this land.

I walk for a solid half hour, following the winding trail by the river, until Cabin Thirteen comes into view. It’s every bit as lovely as the others, only much, much more secluded. From my vantage point as I approach, I spy a bridge a little ways down the shore that spans the river, allowing visitors to trek into the pristine wilderness beyond.I’m definitely going to have to check that out once I’m settled in!

Slipping my key into the lock, I swing open the red wooden door and inhale deeply. The cabin smells of aged pine and roasted coffee. Closing the door behind me, I carry my bag in and explore my home for the night. It’s quaint, cozy, comfortable, and clearly designed with a couple in mind, rather than a whole family. It’s small, but open plan, and a fireplace features predominantly against one wall, while a smallkitchenette and bathroom feature to the rear of the space.

“Perfect.” I grin to myself and put my bag down on the bed. It occupies the central space below one of the large windows that overlook the river. The views are breathtaking, and I can’t help the feeling of excitement welling within me. I throw myself back onto the mattress and rest my hands under my head.This is exactly what I needed. I can scarcely contain myself and begin unpacking immediately.

By the time I’ve popped my toiletries in the bathroom, stashed my snacks in the kitchenette, and popped my book on the nightstand, I’m edgy with cabin fever. The great outdoors beyond the pine log walls of my home-away-from-home call to me. The afternoon is gray but begs me to go and explore—and so I do. Abandoning the cabin, I leave everything behind but my phone and venture outside, the river pebbles crunching satisfyingly underfoot.

The scent of the forest is invigorating, and I readjust my scarf as I cross the bridge, stopping in the middle to take photos directly up and down river. “Beautiful.” There’s just something deeply primal and cathartic about being so close to a body of water. It’s grounding and soothing, and I have no doubt I’ll sleep like a baby tonight … lulled by the river as she runs by my cabin when I’m full of hot chocolate and drunk on words.

With a bounce in my step, I reach the other side and take a moment to just gaze into the depths of the forest. Everything is so lush and verdant, from the moss covering the stones, to tips of the tallest pine trees. Ferns and lilies grow in abundance, and every possible bark or stone-laden surface is covered in lichen.

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