Maren pulled off the road and checked her map and her mileage . Yes, she had gone seven miles from Nurse’s Landing but the map did not show the fork in the road. Here she was with night approaching wondering which of the two roads was the one she needed to go to Proctor Point. Robert Frost sprung to mind but this road less traveled looked all but impassable so she chose the less overgrown route and drove on. Thankfully not a mile down the broken tarmac ,she spotted a an arrow shaped sign barely clinging to its oak tree perch pointing her direction which said Proctor Point. Mentally she gave Frost and his less traveled the one finger salute and went down the road.
Thirty minutes later the road ended in a curve that became a winding driveway bordered by tall trees on either side whose branches seemed to scratch the skies and reach for the emerging moon. Maren peered down the road at the house that was coming into view. Multi storied with gabled windows and two ell shaped wings it dominated the landscape. She pulled her battered Volkswagon bug to a stop in front of the door and surveyed the house’s nearly paintless exterior . Despite herself , she shivered as she thought,” Good lord, I have inherited the Bates Motel”
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