Endless tunnels of trees whisked by the bus windows in a blur. Glimpses of the forest behind the wall of pines seemed to reach out for miles. It was dense with bushes and smaller trees almost completely covering the empty space between the tree tops and ground. So densely that the moonlight couldn’t even reach it.
Hidden in small gaps was the ghostly stare of deer watching the bus go by. Their unmoving blank eyes like mirrors catching and reflecting the shine of the bus’s headlights as we passed. Only the still frame glimpses of their faces making into my own eyes in those split seconds. A cold chill I imagined as their breath down my neck.
As we broke past a barrier of trees that surrounded the town, the bus was filled with a faint blue moonlight. Heads turned to the view and people shifted, seeming ready for their stop. The town we entered however wasn’t filled with any warm lights from buildings, not even street lights.
The bus screeched to a slow stop by another bus stop. Only a couple other people got up to get off this stop with me. As we stepped out they both seemed to immediately scatter to nearby buildings or alleyways in a hurry. The bus left me behind in the most quiet street I had ever seen. Slowly walking forwards, I passed by stores with large heavy duty metal gates pulled over their windows and doors. Strangely empty areas around dinners had only scuffs where tables and chairs should be. Even small dark stains from where potted plants used to rest where almost like they only left their shadows behind to save their place. Looking up at the streetlights, each one had no bulb inside to even emit light if it wanted to.
“Psst,” a voice suddenly crept up beside me. I swung my head in the direction of the sound to see a lanky stranger just a breath away from me and grabbing my arm. He wore a hoodie that hid most of his head. But I could see his face, a nonferal wolf with a lopsided smile. His breath had a lingering stench as he continued, “Mind if I helped you with your bag mam?” His eyes gleamed down at the roller bag I dragged with me.
Just as I was trying to come up with an answer, we both slowed to a stop at the sound of heavy boots behind us. His eyes narrowed as we turned around until he saw who it was. Behind us was a man that easily towered over us. He looked to be a burmese mountain dog nonferal with large orange eyebrows. His fur was mostly brown with orange and white markings. The only thing strange about him was his height and more bear-like ears. His button up shirt was patterned and tucked into his pants. The pristine white pants followed down to the large boots like stilts from this angle.
He raised one eyebrow up at the stranger beside me while cracking his knuckles. Each hand was larger than either of our faces, “Is this penny sucker bothering you?”
The stranger's already pale fur also seemed to go white as his eyes widened. He quickly let go of me and backed away as he stuttered, “I-I’m sorry. I must have got the wrong person! You have a good day there Barret sir- NIGHT, a good night! Haha- Look what time it is!MY OVEN IS ON-” He suddenly turned and fled to an alleyway and disappeared around a corner.
The man turned his glare down towards me as he tilted his head some, “You’re short and dumb looking. You must be Michael, right?”
After I gave him a nod, he immediately began walking. He took a leisurely stroll as I had to begin a brisk walk to keep up with how long his legs made each stride. As we did however I noticed him trying to hide a slight limp. A bit of his weight was shifted more towards his left ankle.
He spoke with a gruff and annoyed tone as we walked, “I saw the time you would arrive and knew you’d immediately get jumped. So there’s a few things you need to keep in mind about this town. You don’t go out after sundown without anyone with you unless you want to be either mugged, murdered, or missing by sunrise. That and the sushi shop on the east side of town is disgusting. Unless you prefer puking your guts out every morning, then have fun I guess.”
While slightly out of breath, I stayed quiet and focused on keeping up the pace. After a while he looked back at me and asked, “Do you have any triggers?”
His pace slowed some so he could look over at me while I responded, “Uh… you mean like guns?”
“No no no. I mean triggers. Like what makes you ugly cry or go on a rampage? You didn’t melt when I made fun of you for being dumb so you’re not a snowflake. Maybe it’s when people explain things like you’re dumb because you are?”
At this point I was confused, “I’m not really sure?”
But he kept pushing, “Here let’s give it a try.” He cleared his throat and began speaking slowly and over enunciating every word, “I’m Wendell Barrett! I am from the famous Barrett family business back in Hazeborough! We’re all landlords that rent out houses and sell antiques! Can you say antiques?!?”
Smiling ear to ear as mockingly as possible, he pointed at me waiting for me to respond. I only looked more confused, "You sound like a toddler.”
His smile dropped back into a grumpy growl under his breath, “You’re no fun. You’re supposed to be shaking in your boots. Must be too dumb to know any better. Oh well.”
He looked forward again as we reached the east edge of town. A small flat baseball field sat by a dirt road that turned behind a wall of trees. It looked like it only led to the forest but as we rounded the corner, it opened up to a slightly hilly clearing with a lodge nestled in the middle of it.
The barrier of trees hid it completely from the town outside and gave the building an almost fairytale-like feeling. The grass was kept a little long and some wildflowers grew in patches or scattered around the edges.
The lodge itself was made of thick logs with smooth polished seals. The front porch has a triangular roof. The windows of the building were higher up, providing privacy but showing the wood work for the ceiling inside. You could already see a large chandelier of antlers woven into a circle hanging from the highest center of the triangular roof. The windows gave a warm glow from its light contrasting the blue moonlight.
Barrett Lodge was a much more welcoming home than its owner by a long shot.