Below is a teaser: installment #1 of my multi-episode serial. Join the horror adventure! New episodes drop every Monday and Friday—only on Kindle Vella. First three are free…

Episode One

Dusk.

The old man, the late teen woman and the dog pause at the final bit of pavement.

A chill breeze hums through the pines and oaks. The undergrowth occasionally rustles. Once, from deep in the forest, comes the small echoing thump of what might be a large fallen pine cone.

In the space of a few hours, these three have walked the limits of the tiny mountain town. The humans tell one another they’ve been exploring, getting their bearings—having an adventure with their dog.

The truth is that they have been trying to walk off a common grief. Each had hoped that simply being here, in this town, on this mountain, might help bring closure.

So far, it hasn’t.

Before them, two lengths of chain dangle a few feet off the ground. It’s joined by a padlock in the middle. Beyond the chain, the road continues as a wide dirt trail, coated thinly with snow. It leads uphill into the shadows where the woods grow deeper still.

Neither of them knows it, but a building waits for them up there.

Kelly

She stands on the last bit of asphalt. The wind shushes all around. It’s hard to take her eyes off that winding, bone-colored road trailing off between the ranks of pines.

Yeah, she thinks. Could be anything, lurking in those shadows. Pretty much time to end this hike, Dad—

But no, he steps over the low chain and stands on the other side. Then makes an old-school gesture with his flashlight, like: come on in, Kelly. The water’s fine.

“So we’re gonna trespass?” she asks in a low voice. “Led by a cop who retired just six months ago and should know better?”

These are the first words either have spoken in half an hour. It’s so not good. Not what she had in mind at all, when she agreed to come up here with him.

Dad doesn’t respond, and Kelly tunes into his huffing and puffing. God. He’s still trying to catch his breath. She squints over in the dimming light. Since it happened, two months ago, her 65-year-old father’s looking that old: chalky skin, whitened-up hair. He’s lost serious weight, too.

Bang. Instant old-age. Makes her sad every time she looks.

He reaches over the chain to pet Moose, their German Shepherd, who still stands on the asphalt with Kelly. “I don’t see any ‘No Trespassing’ signs, do you?” he replies at last. “It’s probably chained for local, pedestrian access only.”

“So, are we locals now, Dad?”

“Temporary locals, I guess.”

She holds up her phone. “The map I saved called this Summit Road. It must dead-end at that freaky mansion or whatever-it-was we saw from down below. So that’s our goal?”

“That would complete our big walking tour of Shadow Pine, like we discussed. It couldn’t be more than another half-mile. But Kel, it’s all forest, from here on. I’m not going to push it. Do you still feel up for it?”

He waits, still panting a little.

“I guess.” Kelly pauses, staring ahead at the tree-fringed road. In their last session, even her therapist, Dr. Ruben, said a few walks where the wild things are might be exactly what she needed. Then, of course, he’d repeated his little saying for her.

Avoid it, fear grows. Face it, fear goes.

“Promise a fire when we’re back at the cabin?” she asks. “And hot tea?”

“Deal,” her father says. He reaches over the chain and unclips Moose’s leash.

“Can we trust him off-leash?”

“Seems like the perfect place to find out. We’re not gonna see cars out here.”

It’s Southern California, but you wouldn’t know it. The air’s, like, arctic. She tugs her ski-cap over her ears. “I didn’t even see cars on the streets. Or like, barely any. You think people actually live here in this town?”

“We’ll be here a few days. I suppose we’ll find out.” Ed shines his flashlight down so Kelly can make out the chain. The links cast strange twisty shadows on the cold earth.

She steps over onto the dirt road and looks back.

It’s weird; Moose does not follow. He stands his ground on the pavement, staring warily ahead. Dad sharply calls out, “Fuss!” It’s the German word for heel. Moose—who responds only to German commands (it’s a police dog thing)—finally slips under the chain. He takes his place in a position of “focused heeling”: right up against his master’s side, looking up for the next directive.

Then, led by Dad, they all start crunching along the earth and pine needles and mounds of snow.

He shines the light ten feet ahead and slips into protective mode. “It’s steep here, Kel,” he warns. “And below freezing. Watch for black ice.”

“You got it, Daddy.”

Kelly walks a little behind, still checking out her father. He’s limping. More signs of age. She shakes her head. Then takes out her cell and types a few words, using her new smart-phone gloves.

Ed glances back. “You getting coverage?”

“Here? No way. I’m just, like, typing in notes,” she explains. “A list. Furniture, flooring. Check roof. Clean chimney…”

“Yeah. That’s good.”

She runs gloved fingers through her long, curly hair and tries to think up more stuff, wanting to be a team player. The goal, Dad said, is to fix up the cabin so they can sell it. That’s why they’re here. Supposedly.

Except it’s really not. But she’ll play along, for now.

Both lapse into silence to the crunch, crunch, crunch of snow and frozen earth underfoot. The wind joins in, pushing out a light, continuous sshhhhhhh...

It’s very dark now. All she can see is the rutted road under Dad’s bouncing beam. The forest is a passing mass on either side. They’ve left the last occupied cabins far behind. No other lights anywhere.

She brings up the cell again; her screen goes bright against the gloom as she types a few more words. “Maybe a plumber to check out that banging in the pipes,” she says, just to break the silence between them. “What did you call it? Water-hammer?”

“Water-hammer. Yeah. Hey, Kel.” He stops, distracted. Philosophical, staring off at the horizon. “When we’re done, who knows? Maybe we’ll even want to keep the cabin. Visit now and then. It’s kinda pretty here, don’t you think? Lonely, but pretty.”

She scans the jagged pines, silhouetted against the night sky, then looks back. “Uh, no.” The last word is emphatic. “Mom hated this mountain. Her parents both died here. What about that were you not getting?”

“I got it, believe me. She never talked about her parents. She never even mentioned Shadow Pine, no matter how many times I asked. I only meant that now that we’re at Mom’s ground zero, maybe it doesn’t look as bad as she always implied.”

Okay, she thinks. Be patient with the poor guy.

“Dad, this is, like, wilderness. I’m a city girl. I doubt I’d ever be into a place with lots of, you know…forest creatures.” Kelly huddles into her down jacket. The further up here they walk, the colder it gets. “Besides, you said we were gonna flip the cabin and leave.”

“We are. Don’t stress, honey. We’re only talking.”

But then they’re not. Again.

In silence now, they pass a large sprawling oak, growing off where the road hooks to the right. Kelly looks up at the sky, bright with stars, more stars than they’d ever see down below. A three-quarters moon hovers above the tree line.

A gust of wind suddenly whistles through the nearby branches, making a shrill, rattling ssssss…

It sounds…just like the cat-thing, from when she was 13. The only thing in the whole world she’s afraid of.

“Dad.” She runs to grab his arm. “Don’t you hear that hissing?”

He stops. “That’s not hissing, Kelly.” He’s got his soothing voice. “It’s only the wind.”

She starts to calm, shake it off. ’Cause yeah, he’s right, it’s just wind, don’t be a wuss, Kelly—

But then a crack like a sharp hand-clap comes from the woods, not far away, and like that she’s one-hundred-percent sure a beast of some kind (the thing) is creeping through the bushes to get her, and before she can even talk herself down, she screams.