The Sealed Room at the Pines Motel

In the autumn of 1998, I spent a week at the Pines Motel outside Bell’s Hollow, Maine, while my car was being repaired. The motel had thirteen identical rooms, but the owner, a woman named Evelyn, told me never to unlock room seven. She said it with the same calm she used when handing me my key—like a housekeeping instruction, not a warning. I was in town for five days. I met a man at the diner who claimed he’d stayed in room seven three years ago, and he described a whispering that came from under the door, a sound like a woman telling a story to a child. He said he checked out at three in the morning and never went back. On my last night, I stood at the door of room seven. The key was in my pocket. I didn’t open it. But I put my ear to the wood and heard something—a voice, low and steady, speaking a language I almost recognized. I left the next morning without ever knowing what was inside. But I still think about that voice, and I wonder if it’s still talking. #PinesMotel #BellsHollowMaine #RoomSeven #Evelyn #Autumn1998 #Whispering #SealedRoom #MotelHorror #SmallTown #Maine #RoadTrip #Luna #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast #Anthology #StaticLullaby #Unsettling #Atmospheric Keep every episode free: buymeacoffee.com/fexingo