Wipe head - Chapter 10 : The House in the Trees
The road ahead twisted through the forest, narrow and uneven, barely wide enough for one car. Snow clung to the sides, crunching beneath the tires as they moved forward slowly. Each bump made the vehicle jolt, sending small shivers through the cabin and a few startled laughs from the backseat. Inside the car, laughter returned—lighter now, relieved, as if escaping Kruger Town behind them had washed away the tension clinging to their shoulders.
"We survived the cursed town," Marty joked, tossing a candy wrapper at Sam. "I told you nothing would happen."
Luna leaned forward from the back seat, her breath fogging the window slightly as she peered out, eyes wide with wonder. "This place is actually kind of beautiful," she murmured. The soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the trees, painting the snow in streaks of gold and rose, giving the forest an almost magical hue.
Tall trees surrounded them, their branches heavy with snow. Some were bowed under the weight, creating a natural archway over the road. The forest felt old, untouched, almost sacred. The air was colder here, cleaner, carrying the faint, sharp scent of pine and frost that stung slightly at their noses. For a fleeting moment, the forest offered them peace, a quiet pause between the horrors of the town behind and whatever lay ahead.
Then the road suddenly dipped.
The car bounced hard, everyone jolting in their seats.
"Okay, that was rude," Laura said, gripping the handle above her head as her body lifted and sank with the car's suspension.
Sam slowed down, adjusting the wheel with care. "Road's messed up. Watch out for ice patches."
Ahead, the main road split. One path curved properly through the trees—longer, rough, but clearly marked, snow cleared enough to indicate regular use. The other was a narrow shortcut, barely visible, cutting sharply downhill, edges hidden by thick snow and shadow.
Michelle squinted, leaning closer to the window. "That shortcut will save us time."
Marty's grin widened. "Yeah, it looks faster. Less boring than the long road."
Sam didn't respond immediately. He remembered the guide's words, echoing clearly in his mind: Follow the route exactly. Don't take shortcuts.
He shook his head slowly. "No. We stick to the main road."
"Bro, it's literally right there," Marty argued, leaning forward, pointing. "We'll save at least twenty minutes."
Hana's voice was soft, hesitant, yet firm. "Let's not ignore warnings on day one. Maybe there's a reason for it."
A brief silence followed. Only the quiet crunch of tires against snow and the soft whine of the engine broke the stillness.
"Fine," Marty sighed, slumping back. "Main road it is."
The car turned away from the shortcut, leaving it behind as shadows swallowed it. For a moment, it almost felt like the forest had exhaled, the darkness closing neatly over the shortcut as if it had never existed.
---
The road got worse.
Potholes and broken asphalt created sudden jolts. The car's suspension groaned under the strain. Small jumps sent everyone bouncing slightly in their seats. Laughter mixed with nervous sounds—gasps, chuckles, a few groans—as the car climbed and dipped through the forest. The cold from outside seeped in through the cracks in the windows, nipping at their ears and noses, making them pull their jackets tighter.
"This feels illegal," Laura said, voice high-pitched, peering at the twisted branches overhead like they might reach down to grab the car.
"Adventure," Sam replied, smiling, a flicker of excitement in his eyes as he navigated the uneven road. Every curve seemed to test his reflexes, every shadow flickering across the snow feeling alive for a split second.
Branches scraped against the sides of the car. The occasional drip of melting snow splattered onto the roof with soft, echoing taps. Wind whistled through the gaps in the trees, carrying the faint sound of distant wildlife, the crunch of snow under invisible paws.
Finally, after what felt like forever, the trees began to thin. Light filtered through more evenly now, and ahead, a house emerged, standing alone among the snow-dusted pines.
It was a two-story structure, wooden walls darkened with age, slanted roof heavy with snow. Warm yellow light glowed faintly from the windows, giving the illusion of comfort and safety. Smoke rose gently from a chimney, curling lazily into the cold air.
"Okay," Luna said softly, leaning closer to the windshield. "That's actually nice."
They parked and stepped out.
The cold hit instantly, sharp and biting. Snow crunched under their boots, crisp and deep, as they stared at the house. It looked welcoming—but too quiet. No other houses nearby. No streetlights. Just the trees and the silence of the forest pressing in around them.
Sam unlocked the door, the key turning with a soft click.
The door opened with a low creak, echoing slightly in the empty air of the hall. Inside, warmth enveloped them immediately. Wooden floors gleamed faintly under the soft glow of ceiling lamps. Old furniture lined the walls, dust motes drifting lazily in the air. A fireplace in the living room offered both light and heat. Five doors led to bedrooms—three downstairs, two upstairs—promising space and privacy.
"Shotgun room!" Marty yelled, racing ahead with a childish grin.
"No fair," Michelle laughed, dodging him playfully.
They explored quickly, bags tossed, jackets shrugged off, laughter bouncing through the hallways. Sam and Hana chose the upstairs shared room. The others claimed their own, each moving with hurried excitement, trying to stake territory in the strange, empty house.
The fireplace crackled softly as Laura carefully lit it, the flames casting warm, dancing shadows on the walls.
"This place is kind of perfect," Hana said, sinking onto the bed, brushing hair from her face.
Outside, the wind whispered against the walls, brushing the house with icy fingers.
Sam walked to the door and locked it, the click of the bolt sounding louder than it should have in the quiet room.
"Guide said keep doors locked," he said, glancing around. No one argued.
---
Hunger hit fast.
"Alright," Sam clapped his hands together, breaking the calm. "Lunch first."
"You cook, we survive," Marty said with a grin.
Sam smirked. "Simple stuff for now. BBQ later tonight."
"BBQ?" Luna's eyes lit up, reflecting the firelight in the room.
"Yeah," Sam said. "We eat now, relax, then go big later."
They unpacked groceries—bread, canned food, vegetables. Sam moved confidently in the kitchen, chopping, stirring, opening cans with precise efficiency. The smell of toasted bread and sautéing vegetables slowly filled the house, mingling with the faint scent of pine from the open windows.
For a while, everything felt normal. Conversation flowed easily—plans for the next day, jokes about past trips, the odd complaint about the cold—filling the house with a sense of belonging, warmth, and laughter. Snow fell steadily outside, soft and quiet, blanketing the forest, muffling distant noises, giving the illusion that they were the only people in the world.
None of them noticed the faint sound outside.
Footsteps.
Slow. Heavy.
Then silence again.
The house stood still in the trees, warm and lit, oblivious to how close it was to something that had been waiting for years, something patient, silent, and watching. Shadows in the corner of the windows flickered with the wind. The trees leaned closer, creaking softly, as if pressing in. The snow outside sparkled innocently under the dim light of the moon, hiding secrets beneath its surface.
Inside, laughter faded slightly as Michelle glanced at a window, thinking she saw movement among the pines. Sam noticed her pause, eyes narrowing slightly. He shook his head, dismissing it. "Probably just a branch," he said softly, though the words didn't carry their usual confidence.
Marty tossed another slice of bread into his mouth, trying to force normalcy, but his ears perked at every sound. Hana wrapped herself in a blanket, the soft wool scratching her skin slightly, the warmth comforting yet fragile in the vast silence surrounding the house.
Time passed slowly. Every creak of the wooden floor, every pop from the fireplace, every whisper of wind outside seemed magnified. The forest pressed in around the house, dark and dense, keeping secrets the group couldn't yet imagine.
And outside, in the stillness of the trees, eyes watched. The house glowed warmly, alive with chatter and comfort. But the forest remembered, and it waited.