by Sage Short
The twins, each with the same mop of brown hair, green eyes and thin lips covering straight teeth, stayed far from each other as they walked into the center of the room. The room was dark, with nothing on the walls or the ground. The woman attempted to put the children back to back, but they refused to stand close to each other.
The woman stepped away from the children as they stood in the middle of the dark room. The twins were both afraid of the darkness that surrounded them.
They listened to the silence that room. The only sound they could hear now was the sound of their own breathing, and their hearts racing in their chests. They refused to turn to each other for comfort or to let go of their anger towards each other.
They stood alone in the dark for a while until Kate felt Connor’s back touch hers, but she refused to turn around to look at where he stood.
She shut her eyes when a hand touched her back. She attempted to scream, but she found herself at the door once again, her brother and the old woman standing by her side. Her brother refused to look her way as they walked back to the bucket.
Dakota put the book down and stood to shut the curtain in front of the desk. Once the window was blocked, she walked over to her bag and took out the university brochure. She had wanted to go to college for creative writing and poetry, and journalism was a career she thought she would enjoy. Not long after her Press Pass was given to her, her mother had passed, and she slowly lost interest in journalism.
After her mother had killed herself, Dakota had fallen into a deep depression. She couldn’t write anything but morbid poetry and deep creative pieces on the topic of loss and death, which she’d known was kind of cliché, but she’d had nothing else to do to occupy her time.
Then one day, Detective McDonald asked her to send him the files her mother hadn’t sent over before she died. Dakota had no choice but to go into her mother’s study and look for the files. She could remember it like it was yesterday; sitting at the desk her mother used to sit at, opening her mother’s laptop to scan through the thousands of files, just like her mother used to do. As she went through them, she saw her sister’s name on one of the files.
Dakota had let her curiosity get the better of her, and after staring at it for what felt like hours, she finally opened her sister’s file. She read that the investigators suspected that her sister was abducted by the babysitter - just as the other children had been. Dakota read through the police report, the newspaper clippings, and the other information her mother had collected until she reached an entry Fiona had made. Something to do with a strange little book that could be found in the locked top drawer of her dresser.
Dakota had neglected to include that entry among the files she sent over to Detective McDonald, believing that no one else needed to read her mother’s final thoughts.
Just as the entry had said, there was a book, wrapped in plain brown paper, locked away in the top drawer of Fiona’s desk. She had been afraid to open it at first, afraid of what she would find inside that paper.
She opened a blank composition notebook that sat on her mother’s desk and opened up a browser window on the computer to search the names of the two most recent abductions from her mother’s case files.
She had written the names on the last two pages of the notebook. Below the names, she wrote any information she could find on the two:
#12: TIMOTHY WHITE
BORN IN 2008 IN GEORGIA
WENT MISSING IN SOUTH CAROLINA ON JUNE 20, 2015
MOTHER AND FATHER ARE STILL LIVING, MOVED TO MONTANA
FOUND DISMEMBERED AND BURIED IN SHALLOW GRAVE
FOUND ON SEPTEMBER 8, 2015, OVER TWO MONTHS AFTER HIS DISAPPEARANCE FROM THEIR HOME BY A WOMAN WHO CALLED HERSELF JULIA LANE, DESCRIBED AS A MIDDLE AGE WOMAN WITH TIGHT CURLS AND A SOFT FACE, ABOUT 5’5 AND 129LBS
Dakota had printed out the articles on the case and taped them to the lined pages of the notebook. She’d even printed the forensic photos from when the boy’s body was discovered, as well as a photo of him before the incident.
She typed in the name of the next victim, writing down everything as she had before.
#11: PAULINA HARRISON
BORN IN 2010 IN HIGH POINT, VIRGINIA
WENT MISSING ON JULY 4, 2015, IN SOUTH CAROLINA
MOTHER IS IN PRISON FOR DRIVING UNDER THE INFLUENCE AND FATHER LIVES WITH HIS PARENTS IN NORTHERN KENTUCKY
FOUND ON THE SIDE OF THE INTERSTATE ON AUGUST 1, 2015, WITH A PLASTIC BAG OVER HER HEAD AND HER HAIR, TONGUE AND FINGERNAILS REMOVED
FOUND ALMOST ONE MONTH AFTER HER DISAPPEARANCE FROM HER HOME BY A WOMAN WHO CALLED HERSELF ANNA NORTH, DESCRIBED AS A MIDDLE AGED WOMAN WITH LONG STRAIGHT HAIR AND A SHARP FACE, ABOUT 5’1 AND 137 LBS
Dakota did the same with the clippings and photos of Paulina. She noted that she was not the youngest to go missing, but she also noted that she was the one who was missing for the least amount of time before her body was discovered. Paulina was the eleventh child of the twelve victims.
Chapter Ten
DAKOTA HAD CONTINUED TO make a list of all of the children's names and causes of death. It made her feel sick to think of what these children must have gone through before they died. Hopefully they were already dead when these things were done to them.
It took her a while to find the first child who went missing; she’d had to sift through pages upon pages before she found the name Lia Gray. Lia was the one Dakota took the most interest in, due to the fact that she was found alive, if only barely. Lia was the only one of the children to survive. At eleven years old, she was also the oldest of the bunch.
#1: LIA GRAY
ELEVEN YEARS OLD, FOUND ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD WITH NEAR-FATAL HEAD INJURIES
RUSHED TO A HOSPITAL WHERE HER HEART STOPPED
RESUSCITATED ON MARCH 3
STILL ALIVE TODAY
Dakota continued to write down the other names of the other children after taking down Lia’s phone number and her email address. Dakota knew deep down that she probably wasn’t going to reach out to the now thirteen-year-old girl, but she at least wanted to have her information just in case she needed to. She continued her list:
#2: ASHLEY WATERS
FOUND WITH WATER IN HER LUNGS
#3: VINCENT BAKER
FOUND SCALDED FROM HOT OIL
#4: TONY WALKER
FOUND IN AN ASH PIT, BUT WITHOUT ANY BURNS
#5: CHRISTIAN JOHNSON
FOUND WITH HER PINKY AND INDEX FINGER MISSING
#6: QUINN DAVIS
FOUND WITH EVERYTHING BUT HER LEFT ARM BROKEN
#7: TAYLA AND TARA WESTMORE (TWINS)
FOUND WITH THEIR HANDS AND ANKLES BOUND TO EACH OTHER
#8: ANTHONY COOL
FOUND BURIED BENEATH THE SAND AT THE BOTTOM OF LAKE MURRAY
#10: DIANA YOUNG
FOUND IN THE MIDDLE OF A FIELD, NAKED AND BURNED
Before she had clicked out of Paulina’s case, she’d followed a link to a police report. The woman who abducted Paulina was named Jacqueline Johnson, a 43-year-old second grade teacher. Jacqueline was going to be sent to Florida for questioning and a possible seat on death row. “The doors made me do it.” Jaqueline would whisper, over and over. “The doors made me do it.”
The corrections officer who had monitored her block reported that she would whisper through the bars before she went to sleep every night:
“Venture through the doors and you will see. All seven doors. Through all seven doors. You just go to find your babies.” There were suspicions that she may have been responsible for all twelve disappearances and murders, but before she could be convicted, she’d hanged herself with a bed sheet in her cell.
Chapter Eleven
DAKOTA HAD PACED HER mother’s study, picking up the phone and hanging it up every time. She didn’t want to bother this girl, nor bring up those terrible memories, but she needed to know.
Dakota picked up the phone again and finally dialed the numbers. As soon as the line started to ring, she
hung up and continued to pace.
Eventually, she sat down at the desk and typed the girl’s name into the search engine. She scrolled down the webpage until she found a news report from the night after Lia had been found. She clicked play to see a woman with a straight face staring back at her. The woman looked down at a piece of paper as she spoke.
“Young Lia Gray was rushed to a local hospital this morning. She was found on the side of the road with blows to the head from what appeared to be a hammer.” Dakota rested her chin on her hand as she watched the woman talk. “The young girl spoke of how she was kidnapped from her home by a woman who called herself Jamie Knight, though police believe that to be an alias. Lia reported that she was taken to a cabin by a lake by the woman, where she was sent down into a hole in the ground.”
Dakota paused the video and clicked away from it. She searched for, “cabin by the lake,” “child disappearances,” and, “hole in the ground.” She found 231 pages that related to those keywords. They all had to do with the cases of the children.
Her gaze scanned the page to an article relating to a mysterious book. On a whim, Dakota clicked the search field and added, “book.” She scanned the new results until she came upon a headline she wouldn’t click on: “Crazy cop thinks book is a killer.” She scrolled away from it.
She scanned the page again before her eyes met the title of the mysterious book. She clicked on the link and summarized its contents in her notebook:
“THROUGH THE SEVEN DOORS”
WRITTEN BY AN UNKNOWN AUTHOR
THE STORY OF TWO CHILDREN WHO VENTURE DOWN A HOLE IN THE GROUND, LED BY AN OLD WOMAN POSING AS A BABYSITTER.
TRUE STORY OR FICTIONAL?
Dakota read about the theories regarding the book and its possible connection to the deaths and disappearances of the children. Most thought it was believed to be coincidental, though some believed it had something to do with a cult.
Chapter Twelve
SITTING AT THE DESK IN the cabin, Dakota turned to the last chapter of the book. She could feel the balloon that had filled itself up in her chest slowly deflating. She had done it. She had finished the book. She let out a deep breath before looking down at the page to read the last chapter, again skipping ahead to the trio’s entry into the last room.
Chapter Eight: Beyond the Seven Doors
Door Seven - Sleep Baby, Sleep
Georgina watched as the children walked in front of her a few paces, far apart from each other. The woman smiled as the two drifted farther and farther from each other. She edged backwards towards the door as the twins continued to walk forward. The light was dim, the only source the lantern outside the door.
Even though the light was frail, she could see what was going on around the two. A parade of strange creatures began to crawl from out of the walls around the children. These things walked on all fours, their bodies thin and their skin a deathly grey. The skin appeared to fit so tightly that the bones seemed to poke through to the surface. Their joints moved visibly every time they took a step closer to the children. They walked with their chests low to the ground, their claws clicking against the floor as they moved ever closer.
Kate looked toward Connor as he stepped in front of her, shielding her from the approaching group. The largest one of the eight creatures walked ahead of the rest and was the first to come face to face with the children. It stood upright on its back feet and flashed pointed teeth, then raised its claws to them as the woman turned her back and left through the door as the group surrounded the children.
When the door clicked closed, blood-curdling screams could be heard from behind it. The woman tapped her fingers on the wood as the screams were swallowed up by deep growls and grunts of the horrible beasts. She could hear claws on the other side of the door, then the sound of small fingernails scratching against the wood. The woman closed her eyes. It was like music to her ears. She smiled her sinister smile and hummed along to Kate and Connor’s rhythmic screams. After a few moments, the noise died down.
The surrounding area in the deepest depths of the well fell quiet. Blood seeped from underneath the door and the old woman stepped over it before opening the door. Connor and Kate lay on the floor, their eyes glassed over and open wide. Deep scratches lined their arms and faces. Their pajamas were covered in each other’s blood. Bits of their hair lay around them, and what appeared to be animal bites left crevices in their soft skin. They were practically unrecognizable. Kate was lying in Connor’s arms. They had died holding onto each other. In birth and in death, they were together.
“It's quiet now.” The woman whispered in response to the soft noises that surrounded her and the children. She watched the creatures skink back into the darkness, grunting and groaning softly. “The children are finally asleep.”
Chapter Thirteen
DAKOTA THREW THE BOOK at the farthest wall from the desk; she pushed herself away from the table, and ran into the kitchenette. In the first drawer was silverware, scissors, and matches. Dakota took the pair of scissors.
She returned to the desk and dropped onto her knees to the carpet. She began to dig at the fabric, pulling up everything between her and the wood of the floor. Her fingers clawed at the material before her nails scratched against something that caused her to jump back in pain. She looked at her finger to find a nasty splinter jutting from the tip.
She swore under her breath and put her finger in her mouth. Then she looked down at the pile of loose material around her and rolled her eyes. As she did so, something caught her gaze. Underneath the torn carpet was a metal handle. Her eyes glazed over with tears as she looked down at the handle poking through the rubbish. It was real.
“You found it,” a voice said as she closed her eyes. “You finally found it.”
She looked around once again to make sure that she was still alone. There was no one with her, but the voice came from beside her.
“He will be so proud,” the voice said. “But your little sister and mother would be heartbroken.” It made her uneasy.
The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. She looked around herself once again.
“Did you read the last page?” the voice asked. She looked over to where she had thrown the book only to find it was now sitting back on the desk.
“Only you have the first and last pages,” the voice told her in a menacing tone.
Dakota stood and looked down at the book. She hesitated momentarily, but opened to the last page nonetheless. On the page was a handwritten epilogue.
“Read it for us,” the voice demanded in a sinister whisper.
Dakota cleared her throat. She read aloud with a shaky tone. “The two children, twins Kate and Connor, are fictional characters from an author's imagination, but there were disappearances the year after this book was published. What was thought to be a fictional story was later revealed to be the dream of a psychic named Johanna Rowland, a young mother of two.” Dakota swallowed hard after reading that name, then continued reading.
“When Rowland first released the book, unaware of her gift, she had thought it was inspired by a bad dream, but when the disappearances began, she felt strangely responsible. The woman took her name off the book and felt her only escape was suicide.” Dakota paused. “Johanna Rowland left behind her twin girls, Julia Rowland and Fiona Rowland.”
Dakota put the book down on the table and closed it again.
“I can’t read anymore.” she said aloud to the voice in her head. Johanna Rowland was her grandmother’s name, her mother’s mother. Dakota remembered when Johanna was placed in a mental institution when she went to the police saying that the murders and disappearances were her fault. Dakota had lost her sister, her mother and her grandmother, all because of this cursed book.
She looked down at the handle in the floor and closed her eyes once again. She was alone in this world, all because of this door.
She dropped back to the floor and touched the handle. It was cold against her fingers as she
took a breath and pulled the heavy door open. She looked down through squinted, tear-filled eyes, breathing in the smell of the dry air coming from the deep, dark hole in the earth. The rope was tied into the rocky wall, and she could see the shadow of the bucket swaying below.
Dakota stood up and looked into the well-like hole that sat in the floor. She was tempted by a sickening urge to venture down into it, to see if the seven doors were real. But that wasn’t why she had come to this place.
Dakota looked over at the window. The sun was slowly peaking in from outside. It was early morning. She had finished the book, and made it through the night.
She retrieved her bag, pulled out her pack of cigarettes, and took the last one out before lighting the box on fire. She used it to ignite her bag with the map, her brochure, and the rest of the contents inside, then tossed the flaming satchel underneath the wooden desk.
She took the book off the desk and lit the spine and the white pages, and with a smile she tossed the book down the well and watched it light the sides, creating shadows as it fell. She covered the well back up, then lit the scraps of torn-up rug with the lighter and listened to the crackle of the burning wooden cabin.
Dakota stepped out onto the porch, put the cigarette to her lips and lit it, inhaling deeply. She closed her eyes and let the smoke go as she walked down the steps to the road. She allowed the smoke fill her lungs each time she took a breath in, then exit through her nose when she let it out. She listened to the crackle of the cabin burning as she walked to the bus stop. She allowed herself a small smile, filled with relief and satisfaction.
