There's a certain stretch of road in Tennessee that never makes the map. Locals know it by memory - a place where the fog never burns off, and where the trees lean closer than they should. If you follow that road long enough, you'll find the sign. It's always there, even when you swear it wasn't a moment ago. A red flicker in the rain. A promise. A warning. Whispering Pines Motel. This book is the first entry in The Whispering Pines Chronicles, a series of stories about the people who take that turn and never quite come back the same. Some are running from guilt. Some are looking for peace. All of them end up here. Each book stands on its own - another key on the same ring, another room with its own story. But if you read them together, you'll start to notice how the doors connect. How the Pines hum when you listen. How the voices start to sound a little too familiar. I built this world from fragments - from Tennessee storms, radio static, and the small-town ghosts that never quite left. You don't need a map to find the motel. Just curiosity. And maybe, a reason you can't explain. So check in. Keep the light on. And if you hear the phone ring - don't answer on the first ring. - Robert Pleasant RP Night Publishing
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