The Tourist I Never Should Have Met

I never should have met him.

It was a balmy summer evening in Pine Hollow, the kind of night that beckons you outside, where the fireflies dance and the stars twinkle like tiny diamonds against the velvet sky. I was sitting on the porch, lazily swinging my legs off the edge of the old wooden swing, when he walked into my life like a scene from a movie. 

“Hi there!” His voice was warm and inviting, laced with a foreign accent that made my heart race a little faster. “I’m Theo. Just passing through. Mind if I join you?”

His smile was infectious, and I found myself nodding before my brain could catch up. There was something magnetic about him, an allure that pulled me in. I later learned he was a tourist exploring the small towns of the Midwest, searching for “the real America.” But in Pine Hollow, we rarely got visitors, let alone intriguing ones like Theo.

For the next few days, Theo became a constant in my life. We explored the town together—hiking the rugged trails behind the old mill, sipping lemonade at the local diner, and swapping ghost stories under the glow of the streetlights. He was charismatic, and as we wandered, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something. It was in the way he laughed just a second too late, or how he always glanced over his shoulder as if he were expecting someone to follow us.

Then came the night of the festival. The whole town buzzed with excitement, the air filled with the sweet scent of cotton candy and the sound of children’s laughter. I wore my best dress, the one with the blue flowers, and felt a surge of confidence as I found Theo waiting for me by the entrance. His eyes sparkled in the festival lights, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered.

“Ready for some fun?” he asked, and I could hardly contain my grin. 

As the evening wore on, we danced under the stars, our laughter ringing out into the night. I thought I saw something flicker in the shadows, a flash of movement just outside the light, but when I turned, nothing was there. I brushed it off as my imagination, caught up in the thrill of the moment.

Then, everything changed.

In the midst of the festivities, the power suddenly went out. The music cut off, plunging us into darkness. Murmurs spread through the crowd like wildfire, and panic began to creep in. I felt Theo’s hand slip into mine, firm and reassuring. “Let’s find some light,” he said, his tone steady despite the chaos.

We made our way through the throng, searching for a way to safety. My heart raced as I noticed people were acting strangely. Some were shivering, others were whispering in hushed tones. I spotted Mrs. Henderson, the sweet old lady who lived next door, clutching her grandson, her face pale as a ghost. 

Suddenly, a scream pierced the air. It was sharp, chilling, and unmistakable. I turned to Theo, panic rising in my throat. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, but his eyes glinted in a way that made my stomach knot. 

We pushed our way toward the light spilling from the diner across the street, only to find a crowd gathering outside. My heart sank when I saw the sheriff, his face grave as he waved people back. “Stay away! There’s nothing to see here!” 

But curiosity tugged at me, and despite Theo’s warning grip on my arm, I inched closer. The crowd parted for a moment, and I caught a glimpse of what lay before them—a body sprawled on the pavement, the lifeless form of a man. 

“What happened?” I gasped, my heart racing. 

“Accident,” someone murmured, but the fear in their voice spoke of something more sinister. 

I looked at Theo, his expression unreadable. “We should go,” he said, urgency creeping into his voice. 

Reluctantly, I followed him away from the growing chaos. We wandered toward the outskirts of town, where the trees loomed overhead like dark sentinels. The deeper we walked, the more I felt the weight of the night pressing down on me. 

“Why did you bring me out here?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“It’s safer away from the crowds,” he replied, but something in his tone made me shiver. 

We reached a small clearing, moonlight filtering through the leaves. “This is nice, right?” he said, attempting to lighten the mood, but I could sense the tension still hanging in the air.

Then I saw it—the flash of movement again, something lurking in the trees, just beyond the edge of the clearing. My heart raced. “Theo, did you see that?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped closer, his smile widening in a way that sent ice coursing through my veins. “You have to trust me,” he said softly, but it felt wrong. 

And that’s when I realized—the tourists in Pine Hollow weren’t always who they seemed. The stories I had laughed off, the local legends about people going missing, were not just tales meant to scare kids. I was on the brink of something terrible. 

“Why did you come to Pine Hollow?” I whispered, dread pooling in my stomach. 

“I was looking for something,” he replied, his eyes glinting. “And you, my dear, are exactly what I needed.”

Before I could process his words, the shadows shifted again. A figure emerged, one that I recognized. It was the man from the festival, the lifeless body. But he was alive now, standing by Theo with an unnatural grin. 

“Welcome to our little town,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, but filled with something darker.

I backed away, my mind racing. “What do you mean?”

Theo stepped forward, revealing a glint of metal in his hand. “You see, we need to keep the cycle going. Every tourist must pay their dues. It’s how we thrive here.”

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. I was not the first to fall for his charm, nor would I be the last. 

As the two figures advanced, the moonlight caught on their features—pale skin, hollow eyes that held no warmth, no humanity. They were predators, and I had been the unsuspecting prey. 

I turned and ran, but the forest loomed ahead, dark and unwelcoming. The sounds of the festival faded behind me, replaced by the echo of my heart pounding in my ears. 

I should never have met Theo. I should never have ignored the warnings that danced like shadows on the edges of my mind. Pine Hollow wasn’t just a place; it was a trap, and I had walked right into it. 

As I sprinted into the night, I could hear their laughter behind me—chilling, haunting, the sound of tourists who would never leave.