Sometimes the universe throws us a little test—to see if we’ll listen when something doesn’t feel quite right.
We hit our first snag with Airbnb on this road trip. We had booked what looked like a beautiful cabin in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee, tucked away among the trees with mountain views that stretched for miles. But the moment we arrived, something felt… off. The only thing that matched from the listing was the cabin’s name, and the cleaners were still there, even though we arrived just a few minutes before check-in.
We contacted the host via call and message to confirm that we were in the correct location. While we waited for a response, Devin explored the “parking area” and stumbled upon what appeared to be a small graveyard in the backyard. After having a brief conversation with the cleaners, we began to move our belongings inside. We didn’t receive a reply from the host for nearly two hours.
Once inside, the cabin was truly beautiful—large windows framing the mountains from every angle. However, during our walkthrough, I couldn’t shake the unease, especially in the “game room,” which felt strangely dark and heavy. I brushed it off, locked the door behind us, and we headed out to buy groceries so we could settle in for the week.
When we returned, dusk had fallen, and the atmosphere had changed even more. Devin went upstairs to set up his sleep apnea machine, then came down and began closing every single blind. This behavior was unusual for him—having lived in busy cities, he had never cared much about that before. I checked the front door and noticed a barrel bolt that I hadn’t seen before. A deep instinct inside me whispered to pay attention, so I used it to lock us in.
Later that night, as we got ready for bed, I went into the guest room and saw what looked like a drop of blood with a strand of hair stuck to it. My heart sank, but I tried to ignore it. Once in bed and the TV was off, the creaks started—soft at first, then louder, like footsteps pacing above us. The unease grew thicker.
Neither of us could sleep. We’re both sensitive to energy in different ways, and that night, every instinct told us we shouldn’t stay. Our luggage was in the guest room, and most of our spiritual protection items were inside. As Devin went to get them, he froze—seeing the heavy door slightly wavering, as if moved by something unseen. He felt a pull toward the room, but every fiber of his being told him not to go further.
By morning, we knew what we needed to do. Leaving early wasn’t part of the plan, but peace of mind is worth far more than a refund. This trip is about reconnecting with ourselves, with nature, and with what truly feels right.
We quietly left after tidying up and messaged the host early in the morning to explain our discomfort. When we didn’t hear back, we reached out to Airbnb by midday to request a partial refund. They informed us they would contact the host to discuss the situation. Later in the day, we received a passive-aggressive response from the host—clearly dismissing our concerns.
Still, we remained true to ourselves and our little family.
The lesson was simple: listen to yourself.
When your body tenses, when your heart races, when something deep within whispers no—believe it. Not everything can be logically explained, but your intuition never lies.
This journey is about learning to trust that voice, even when it leads you away from what looks perfect on the surface. Because sometimes, the detour is the protection.
