When truth is stranger than fiction

After more than 15 hours of traveling, we finally arrived at my parents Cabin in the Woods. Having seen the movie Cabin in the Woods about five times, I had the punch lines down and was ready to play the role of Marty (acted to the nines by the amazing Fran Kranz).

The cabin is in scenic Nowhere, Michigan, about 22 miles from the nearest city. Suddenly my jokes about living a horror movie were getting a little more real.

So, you drive down this meandering farm road for about 10 miles until it turns into a dirt road. The road is full of abandoned corner stores and vacated houses. You then drive down that for about four miles until it turns into a gravel road. As you attempt to avoid the deer and other wildlife watching you from the sidelines, you drive another four miles until you reach a muddy road, navigating your tires on the two muddy treads that make up the last stretch of the drive.

In the dark, the Cabin in the Woods is quaint. It doesn’t show it’s charm until you get in it.

Yeah, that’s a woodburning stove with a charming teakettle on it.
And then you turn around.

Yeah, that’s a creepy wall of dead animals.
And then the secret door opens leading you to an underground bunker from hell.

Oh, hell no.
And that’s when we decided we didn’t want to die.
We will be spending the rest of our nights in my Aunt Donna’s basement. I swear to all that is pure and true, if there is a secret trapdoor there…

When truth is stranger than fiction

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