Echoes of the Hollow Episode 2: Train to Cypress Hollow
After the meeting with Richard, Bee went straight home. She pulled out a small suitcase from the closet and started packing a few changes of clothes, along with the folder Richard had handed her. Right before closing the zipper, she looked over at her two dogs, Bonbon and Boba.
Bonbon was calm and sleepy, always near her side. Boba was alert and curious, always ready to move. They weren’t just pets. They grounded her, helped her disconnect from the intensity of her job. Taking them along felt like the only right decision. A few days in the countryside would do them all some good.
The next morning, Bee boarded the train just after sunrise. Tall buildings blurred past, then gave way to fields, sleepy towns, and half-sleeping stations.
Bonbon and Boba rested at her feet.
At the rural station, dusk hung low like a wool blanket. Bee stepped onto the platform and tugged her coat tighter. She found the rental counter near the exit, a sleepy kiosk manned by someone half her age who handed her keys without a word. The rental car waited like a shrug
Bare, boxy, forgettable. In the city, cars were statements. Out here, they were just survival.
The dogs jumped into the back. The engine coughed to life.
As Bee drove, the winding roads pulled her farther from the city’s grip. She cracked the window. The air was sharper here, touched with pine.
Then, the barking started. Boba paced the backseat, ears sharp. Bonbon whimpered, low and unsettled.
Bee furrowed her brow. “What’s going on back there?”
Just then, a burst of light, a reflection off something metallic, or maybe just the glare of her own headlights caught in the mist flared across the windshield. She squinted, instinctively veering slightly, and that’s when she saw it.
A deer. Or something like it. Tall, still, watching from the roadside. Its shape shimmered for a moment. Not glowing exactly, but not quite solid either.
She slammed the brakes and swerved. The tires caught gravel. The car jolted, then steadied. The deer was gone. She pulled over, heart pounding.
By the time she turned onto the gravel path leading to her grandparents' house, night had fully fallen. Warm light spilled from the windows. Her grandfather opened the door before she could knock.
“You alright?” he asked, taking her suitcase.
“Almost hit a deer,” Bee said. “I think it was... glowing.”
Her grandmother appeared in the hallway, apron still on. “That’s just road tiredness, sweetheart. You’ll feel better after dinner.”
The house smelled like smoke, citrus soap, and something green. Her grandmother’s cooking welcomed her like it always had. Dinner was stewed root vegetables, garlic greens, and thick, handmade bread. Bonbon and Boba lapped at their own bowls by the fire, tails wagging.
That night, Bee lay in the guest room, listening to the quiet rhythm of the countryside.
No sirens.
No construction.
Just wind, crickets, and the soft breathing of two dogs curled at her feet.
ARTIST: LIAO WENJING
