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Entry 7
There had been no way of knowing the gender of our host, and women are just as capable of concealment as men.
August 11
We made our way to the cabins after listening to Phillip’s story—and surely it was that. Nothing about it could be remotely true. Yet it unsettled us all, at least that’s what I concluded from our silence. There was no late-night chatter before leaving, no nightcap, even if there had been one to have. (The lodge had no amenities we could see other than the dining room and two restrooms; there was nothing resembling a liquor cabinet in sight, and I found myself wishing one of us had brought a bottle or three of wine, not to make us convivial but to calm the nerves.) Phillip had remained behind, saying he needed time for his evening meditation. Given that it was a spiritual retreat I didn’t think there was anything odd about it. We all left him there and headed out from the lodge.
“Do you think any of that was true?” Larry asked.
The cabin was small enough that we could talk without raising our voices. There hadn’t been time for anyone to fall asleep, and the quiet itself added to my unease. We had all prepared for bed and gotten beneath our respective covers. I’d had the foresight to bring sweat pants and a T-shirt to sleep in—something I normally did unclothed. Sleeping alone in my apartment was also normal for me, and I’d fretted before coming that I might not get a good six hours, let alone eight, in a room of strangers. I assumed before arriving we would share sleeping quarters, and there were no photographs online to see what the lodge and property looked like before we got there. That is another part of story I’ll relate later—evidence that the place existed, but not what it looked like.
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Entry 6
Harlan had said nothing all this time, but I began to sense these people were not all strangers.
August 10
Three days have passed since I last wrote. There are things I noticed at the retreat that I’ve put off recording because they seemed so fantastical. This includes my retreat mates, if they can be called that. At least it’s how I saw them at first, until things began to change.
Remy had said little about himself. The look, and a slight South Asian accent, made him stand out from the others. I would guess India, or Pakistan, but he never verified it.
After dinner, but before Phillip’s tall tale by the fireplace, several of us were sitting outside in the cool air. The lodge had a large wraparound porch with a half dozenwicker rocking chairs in a line along the front wall. I was sitting between Remy and Harlan, with Claire to Harlan’s left. The others had all gone to wash up or change their clothes while we sat listening to nature’s orchestra, fullest at night.
Remy turned to me and said, “Trust is a choice.”
I’d asked the others on the porch if they were comfortable with this experience, believing I couldn’t be alone in my trepidation.
“What is it we’re supposed to trust?” I said.
“Beneficence,” said Harlan. “Whoever invited us all here surely has our best interests at heart.”
I looked at Claire, with her yellow pallor under the porch lights. She shrugged.
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Devil’s Wood Now Available on Ingram
If you’re not a fan of Amazon, you can buy the paperback edition directly from Ingram HERE.
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NEW! Get Each New Entry in ‘The Devil’s Wood Journal’ Delivered to Your Inbox
I’m serializing The Devil’s Wood Journal, with a new entry each week. SUBSCRIBE HERE to have them delivered dirctly to your inbox.
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Fearsome Fiction Podcast: The Book Is Out – Devil’s Wood Unleashed, and the Devil’s Wood Mythology
The curse has been broken! Devil’s Wood is now available as an ebook and paperback on Amazon (including Kindle Unlimited), and soon through Ingram for wider distribution. Today on the Fearsome Fiction podcast I offer a short introduction on the book’s release, then treat listeners to the Devil’s Wood mythology, all part of The Devil’s Wood project. Check it out at TheDevilsWood.com for much more, and listen to this origin story and the legend behind it all.