The Lodge

They’ve returned to the lodge once a year for as long as anyone can remember, a place kept off Google Maps and also Apple Maps and all other maps too, shrouded in shrubbery and ghosts, and demanding a very particular kind of toll. 

No one really knows what happens once you cross the threshold, though rumours point to some kind of fucked-up Roger Rabbit situation. 

Whatever waits beyond the black door has never cared about the difference between the guests and the menu.