“Well, this is kinda nice, don’t ya think?” I try to keep my voice light and hopeful as we step into the bedroom. Dust flies throughout the room even with just one step on the carpet. But I’m trying to stay positive here.

You’re the one who suggested we take an off-the-grid style vacation during the fall, and I just went along with it. You wanted something rustic and cabin-like. Well, you got that. Along with rotting wood, life-size bust bunnies, and centuries outdated furniture. But, sure, it’s homey.

Honestly, I think it’s kind of creepy.

The website we booked this place off of had the whole backstory of this house written down. Apparently it’s been passed down generation to generation since the beginning of modernization. Each family spent their lives in this house, growing old and eventually handing it off to the next of kin. The current owner, someone named Bill, doesn’t really respect the tradition, I guess. Since he’s renting out the place for practically dirt cheap, it’s easy to tell that he doesn’t care for the sentiment.

But, I think knowing that multiple generations of families have begun and ended in this very house is what makes it seem so spooky. I mean, if you had to mentally picture a haunted house, this would be what you’d envision. I’m really beginning to question your decision making here.

But you wanted it to be romantic. A little getaway for us after my months and months of touring. Spend a little alone time together with no one else for miles. We’re literally in the middle of nowhere, so: check!

I toss my bag down onto the bed and watch as the dirt, dust—and probably mildew—fly through the sunlight that streams through the dirty windows. I mean, seriously? Bill couldn’t get a cleaner out here before we came? You put your luggage down too, but in a much nicer manner than me. We might as well get comfortable since we’ll be here for a whole week, so I unzip my bag and start unpacking.

As I pass by the window on my way to the closet, I catch a glimpse at the lakeside that sits right outside the back porch. The selling point, I guess. It is quite beautiful, the way it catches the light and begs for you to take a dip. Realistically it probably carries about 10 different diseases, but that’s besides the point. I’m being positive about this!

As I toss open the closet door, I’m halted in my tracks and an unmanly scream nearly escapes me. “Uh…babe? You might want to take a look at this.”

I feel your presence join me in staring back at the closet. Where we’re supposed to put our clothes, our belongings for the next 7 days. But it’s full. No room to store anything.

Every square inch is filled with dolls.

Not the classic, recognizable ‘Barbie’ dolls—no, no. Like, dolls. The ones you’d seen in movies that have been possessed by a demon spirit. Cracked porcelain, ratty woven cotton, braided yarn for hair, eerie smiles.

You do let out a shriek, and I slam the door shut.

“Yeah, no, we’re not staying here.” My optimism is long forgotten. I’d like to survive the night without any hauntings or exorcisms, thank you very much.