“Dunwich?” And then he remembered Lovecraft had that story, “The Dunwich Horror.” “Are the locals cosplaying cosmic horror in the woods of New England?” Suddenly he felt a lot less afraid of what he had seen in that few seconds of flash lit forest.
Suddenly he saw a light in the distance and he drove on. Presently he could see it was a light in a building possibly a farmhouse and now he was starting to feel a little silly about the fear he had surrendered to back in the woods. Pretty soon the path began to resemble a road again and Roger began to think that he was literally “out of the woods” and back on track. When he was within a hundred yards of the house, he noticed that the road seemed to become a private driveway and ended at the front of the house. Roger wondered if there was a real road around the back of the house and he decided to park and ask for directions to his destination. When he got out of his car, he walked the last fifty feet to the door and not seeing any bell he knocked.
After a few minutes of nothing, he knocked again only louder and four or five times. This produced results. He could distinctly hear heavy footsteps on a staircase inside the house. And then the door opened slowly. There was very little light inside the house but Roger could make out the general appearance of the man who opened the door. He was quite tall, about six foot three, he had shoulder length hair and his clothing was either a costume or vintage clothing from the early 1900s. His expression was very odd. Not exactly threatening but scowling and suspicious, “What ya want heah? This is private property. How did you get on my road?”
Roger tried to explain, “Sorry to bother you but I got turned around getting off Route 20 near Becket in the Berkshires and I somehow ended up on a trail that led me to your house. If you could direct me to the main highway I’ll get out of your hair right now.” The man’s demeanor seemed to change. A guarded smile appeared on his face and he looked at Roger and Roger’s car very intently. He said, “Mistah you’re a lot more lost than you think. That path you came down doesn’t lead anywhere at all. It runs smack into the base of Round Mountain. And there ain’t no automobile road other than my driveway. There was a plan which it was the beginning of but it was abandoned years ago. The only way out of here is on foot.”
Now it was Roger’s turn to scowl, “What do you mean that path dead ends at a mountain? I just got here on it coming from Route 20.” The man smirked at Roger and said, “What is this “Route 20” you keep goin’ on about. I never heard of it. If yer sah sure that path will get you out then turn round and head off my property right now.” And with that the man slammed the door and Roger could hear his retreating tread.
There be “dead ends” and then there be “DEAD” ends!
Amen!
Fascinating, I had always pictured your Dunwich further north, near Adams and Mt Greylock. Williams College in Adams always felt like it was really Miskatonic University with its name changed to protect the not-so-innocent, or perhaps Miskatonic U is in a nearby reality that the Old Ones can bridge to here. Mentioning Beckett and Rt 20 puts Dunwich closer to Pittsfield and Lenox. Of course in 5, 6 or 13 dimensions, what counts as close? Once you leave the constraints of 4 dimensions, all bets are off. The old ones scoff at our ideas of geometry and cartography.
The best I’ve been able to figure out Dunwich floats in an anomaly that encompasses most of Southern New England. Entering it from Massachusetts, Rhode Island or Connecticut doesn’t preserve direction or even location to any reasonable degree. A very inconvenient place unless trapping unwary humans is the intent.