Lost In Dreamland

by Jason Paul Rice

  Bo told her, “I liked you a whole lot better when you were boring. Look, the hair on my arm is already starting to stand up, but I’m in if it helps you.”

  Tara agreed, “Me too. I might scream like a little girl most of the time, but I’ll be screaming right next to you, girl.”

  “Thank you. I knew I could count on you two.” She breathed a sigh of relief. Nobody in their right mind would want to willingly go into Dankstone so it showed her friends’ dedication.

  Darominius said, “Can I ask a question?”

  “Of course.” Whitney pulled a pack of orange toasted crackers with peanut butter in the middle. She hadn’t eaten much since Trent’s disappearance.

  The shifter responded, “I’m somewhat embarrassed because I pride myself on being knowledgeable. What is Dankstone?”

  Tara leaned her head into the opening of the seats. “Over three hundred years ago, a group of supposed witches, that was just a group of powerful women, set up shop there and started producing goods and services. They also started up a private bank that became more powerful than most of the national banks.”

  Darominius stared into the rearview mirror and said, “You have nice eyes.”

  Whitney screamed, “Look out for that car.”

  The dragon shifter jerked the wheel at the last moment and got back into the right lane. A green streak flashed on the left side of Whitney’s vision. A honking horn blared and faded away as they sped away in the opposite direction.

  Whitney’s heart thumped from the near accident and she found herself applying a death grip to the ‘oh shit’ handle bar above her right shoulder. She tried to relax her tense body, but Darominius’ driving made her keep pressing an imaginary brake pedal that never slowed the car down.

  Tara continued the story as if nothing happened. “So anyway, thank you, you have really nice eyes too. To keep a long story short, the young country became scared that these women would become too powerful and turn on Adoxia. They rounded up all the women, who were more than likely guilty of nothing but success and trumped up the charge of witchcraft. They say that before they hanged the last so-called witch, she cast a spell on the land and now it’s haunted with ghosts.”

  “Don’t scare the guy now. It’s not going to be that bad.” Whitney picked her pack of crackers off the seat and broke on in half. She ate the entire pack and drank some Mountain Dew. A pulsating sensation in her stomach followed from not eating very much in the past few days.

  Whitney browsed the internet on her iPad looking for more stories about this place. She searched for the most recent information on Dankstone and an older newspaper article came up that she had never seen. She tapped the screen to open it up.

  The Bottom Tree Press

  Havatsun, Pagano

  The Experiment is Over

  Wayne Exwell

  June 6, 1974

  “Cursed be this land.” E.M.

  As a twenty-four-wheel flatbed truck containing two bulldozers pulls away for the last time, so too goes the dream of tax free property and subsequent riches.

  Before ground had been broken, the expected building cost for the plan was $179,000.

  Estimated Revenue Over First 10 Years: $3.15 Million Dollars

  Sounds like a no-brainer, right?

  Not this time.

  The ghosts of Dankstone have chased everyone away again. Yes, again.

  The Blarlind Brothers Company knew the risk involved. Edward and Merril could have visited Dankstone or talked to the people in the surrounding towns like Havatsun. They could have read one of the many stories written, or watched some of the television shows and movies.

  The people of Havatsun collectively gave the Blarlind Brothers six months, so this reporter gives the company credit for lasting slightly beyond one year. The first housing project amazingly went up in five months and paying tenants crashed through the doors a mere month after that.

  Soon after, stories emerged about random power outages and items magically falling off shelves and tables. The complaints were quickly disputed by the Blarlind Brothers. They had rationalized that the power losses were due to drawing energy from the next town. The brothers never put out an official statement about the falling objects.

  The company moved full steam ahead and finished two more housing projects. At this point, there were approximately 1,000 people living in Dankstone. The Blarlind Brothers planned to move further into Dankstone and build a school and start mapping out roads. Then, inexplicable activity started happening.

  According to Robert Smithy, the foreman for the school construction, “Equipment would break down. Gas would disappear from tanks. Our lumber kept getting stolen and would end up in the Devil’s Waterway. I aint never seen nothing like it.”

  He seemed to be one of the lucky ones. Tenant reports started to pile up, all with a common underlying factor. Everyone had been seeing angry female ghosts that were screaming at them to leave their land. The Blarlind Brothers dismissed this episode as paranoia. They themselves had never set foot in Dankstone.

  Filed reports at the Havatsun Police Department indicate that the ghosts’ behavior became more aggressive. An exodus started and the lure of cheap housing couldn’t even draw in new tenants. Still, the Blarlind Brothers forged on.

  Other police reports showed that around the one-year mark, the strange behavior became more personal.

  Another Havatsun Police report quoted Mamie Blarlind, wife of Edward, as saying, “I would often hear him screaming in the bathroom, telling someone to ‘Shut the (expletive) up!”’

  The report goes on to say that Mamie thought Edward was losing his mind. He had become more distant, constantly paranoid and barely talked to anyone. One day, Mamie went to his brother to plead with him to stop building in Dankstone.

  Edward’s brother, Merril Blarlind, refused. Mamie returned home to find her husband had hanged himself from the chandelier in the foyer. Merril gave his kind condolences to Mamie and moved forward with the Dankstone Project, despite occupancy being down to around two to three hundred tenants.

  Seven mysterious deaths within a fortnight chased everyone away, except those desperate souls with nowhere to go. All the bodies ended up on the dock near the Devil’s Waterway. The local detectives and coroners went down to inspect the corpses and they said the water rose like a great wave and pulled the bodies in just before they could get to them.

  They declared the official causes of death as assisted suicides, although the cases are still officially open.

  As I watch the last truck with the Blarlind Brothers’ royal blue and white decal roll by, only the surrounding townspeople remain. No doubt thrill seekers and supernaturalists will be back, but the dream of turning Dankstone back into a bustling town lies dead today.

  The Havatsun townspeople don’t trespass into the buildings to loot and steal valuables. They know better. The people look at the land line to enter Dankstone, turn around, and go home. They know if they stay out of Dankstone, they are safe.

  Perhaps a day will come when people will inhabit Dankstone again. Perhaps the ghosts will cease to guard the land. Perhaps, but that sounds like more wishful thinking.

  One fact has been re-established, and nobody knows it better than Merril Blarlind. That day is not today.

  Final Estimated Cost (Not fully audited)-$113,000

  Revenue Generated-$23,500

  Expected Loss-$89,500

  Verdict:

  “Cursed be this land.” E.M.

  Bibliography: Ellen McCarron quote from The Strongest Witch in All the Land (page 231), Official Havatsun Police Reports via Cardinal County Sheriff’s Department Records: Case Name, “Ghost-like activity in Dankstone”-Pages 2,4,7, Official Havatsun Police Reports via Cardinal County Sheriff’s Department Records: Case Name, “Suicide of Edward Blarlind”-Pages 1, 3, 8, 11.

  Whitney read several other articles and didn’t realize how much time had passed. She looked up to see Darominius drifting into the other lane again.


  “Hey buddy, watch the road.” She grabbed the side of the wheel with her left hand and pulled down.

  The tires screeched and the long red Chevrolet swerved back into the correct lane. Darominius took control again. He said, “Trying to read this machine and drive at the same time isn’t as easy as I initially expected.”

  “Alright, I will read the directions to you so you don’t have to look. You can turn the audio on too, you know.” Whitney pointed at the button on the dashboard GPS.

  Darominius glanced over at her. “You know how old I am. I try to learn as I have said, but a few clues here and there would be appreciated.”

  “You got it. The navigator is ready to go now. On the clock.” Whitney pretended like she was punching in at work. “In fact, we are only twelve miles from Dankstone. I say we try to find a hotel as close to the town lines as possible. Look out, here we come.”

  Whitney tried to sound confident but her chest tightened and her breathing felt muffled. A compelling feeling to pass out ran through her body and shafts of bright lights flooded her vision.

  She regained her composure for a while but the sensations came back. Sweat built up on the flesh of her scorching body and something unusual tugged at her heart.

  They passed a road sign.

  Dankstone 5 Miles

  3

  “Get yer sorry ass out the way. MOPAR sucks anyway.” A voice screamed from inside the motel’s check in office.

  Whitney paused for a moment before entering, followed by her friends. A man who appeared to be in his early twenties but still suffered from acne stood up from behind the desk with a video game controller in his hand.

  He set down the controller, pulled some Skoal tobacco out of the circular green can and shoved it into his bottom lip before looking up. The smell of mint lofted into the stale air.

  “What is it yis are lookin’ for?” he said and spit down to his left.

  Whitney approached the chest-high desk and sat her purse on the counter. “We would like to rent a room. We were just going to share one if that’s alright.”

  The man smiled, exposing brown teeth with grits of tobacco stuck to them. “We got plenty a rooms so yis don’t gotta share. It’d only be two single beds or one queen in there.”

  “I think we want to stick together.” Whitney noticed some fresh stains on the front desk and removed her purse from the surface.

  The man looked down to the left and spit again. Whitney couldn’t see, but it rang like he had a metal spittoon behind the desk.

  “I shoulda knowed that’s what yis was here for,” the man said and pointed at the keys hanging on the wall before choosing one.

  “What do you mean by that?” Whitney lowered her eyebrows.

  The young man with greasy black hair used his left index finger to scoop out the black tobacco and fling it into the unseen spittoon. He swabbed his bottom lip with his tongue and spit out one last brown wad.

  He said, “Most people that stay here are tryin’ to go into Dankstone. When I seen yis without them video ‘corders and them big things they use for listenin’ to ghosts I didn’t think yis was goin’ in. The looks on all of yis’ faces tells me you gonna go into the belly of the devil. I can see it.”

  “We have to go in. We don’t really have a choice.” Whitney kept waiting for one of her friends to say something and peeked back to make sure they were still there.

  The young man grabbed a pen and shook it before starting the rental form. “If I can give yis some a‘vice. Don’t do it. I seen ‘em go in with a big smile and high hopes and come outta them woods and aint never talk again. That’s why we only take cash in advance now. Thirty-two fifty a night. Too many people done come runnin’ outta Dankstone, aint never to come back.”

  He set the key on the counter and Darominius asked, “Have you ever been in there?”

  The young man had been giving Darominius strange looks since they entered and he focused in on the dragon shifter. “Few times. Not far or nothin’. I done felt it, right in my chest, like a hand squeezin’ and squeezin’, harder and harder. I don’t mess with ghosts. Right here is plenty close enough for me.”

  Darominius asked, “They don’t come outside of Dankstone?”

  The man grabbed the cash out of Whitney’s hand and slid the key over to her. He said, “Them ghosts seem to respect the land lines and so do us people from Havatsun. Most call it the deal with the devil. You leave us alone and we’ll do the same with you.” He handed her the change.

  “I guess that’s it.” She stuffed the wrinkled bills and quarters into her purse and zipped it closed.

  The young man picked up the video game controller. “Oh yeah, one more thing. I didn’t say this, but don’t eat the food here. You gotta go into Havatsun to get anything good. This place made me sick so many times, I’d rather eat dog shit. I bring stuff from home now.” He held up a light brown paper bag with dark oil stains running down the side.

  “Thanks for the advice.” She swung her purse over her shoulder.

  The foursome left and before the door could swing shut, they heard the young motel owner scream, “What the shit? How did the game get unpaused?”

  They walked around to unlucky room number 13. They entered the musty room and Whitney immediately shoved the heavy brown curtains aside and opened two windows.

  As the group tentatively unpacked, the phone rang. Whitney picked it up and before she could say hello, the voice had started talking.

  “Do you think I killed your husband yet?” the creepy voice asked and followed the question with a long laugh.

  “I’m glad you are having fun with this.”

  The man on the phone said, “I’m having a great time. Don’t worry. He is tucked away in a dreamland. Somewhere in Dankstone, just waiting for you to save him. Remember when you were arresting all those people and ruining their lives. Payback is a cruel bitch, no?”

  “I was doing my job. Those people were breaking the law. What was I supposed to do?” She unzipped her duffel bag.

  The man paused for a few moments. “Chirp, chirp, chirp goes the self-righteous birdie. Because you wear a badge? That puts you on the side of justice? Hardly. I tried to play on that side. I went to the University of Ordego. It was all on student loans. I was fourteen credits short of graduation when they cut off my loans. Fourteen credits would have been about nine grand out of my pocket. That’s when I realized those holier-than-thou assholes like you, didn’t really understand struggle. You will understand that word when I am done with you.”

  Whitney pulled some clothes out of her bag, but didn’t want to set them down anywhere in the grungy room. “You think I don’t know pain?”

  The man cut her off before she could continue, “I know you haven’t. I already told you I know about your family. I know you had a cushy upbringing and never left home until this year. I know you’ve never been abandoned by your family and had your heart broken.” He stopped for a moment as he started to get broken up.

  He cleared his throat and continued, “It’s time you know what fear really is. You will be sleeping at the Dankstone Cemetery tonight. I know it’s been a warm autumn, but you may want to bring a pillow and blanket. Bring one friend if you wish. However, if your jaundiced friend tries to change into the beast that we know he is, Trent will die. Yes, I know that too. Back to the Cemetery. I was just down there earlier today and it looks quite lovely. I’ll call you when the time is right. Be ready.”

  The man hung up and Whitney pressed the button to end the call. She set the phone down on the glass-topped desk.

  All four friends were sharing one open room with two single beds covered in worn gray comforters, an old, redwood desk with scratches all over it and no accompanying chair, two chipped wooden nightstands with a Bible and pamphlets of the local attractions in each nightstand’s drawer.

  There weren’t many pamphlets and most of them were faded restaurant ads, stuck to the bottom of the drawer. A small bathroom with a tiny
shower had a door that wouldn’t close all the way. As Whitney got closer to the bathroom an odor of bleach and old sweat became more prominent.

  The motel sat about a half-mile from Dankstone, the closest one to the haunted town’s line.

  She turned around and noticed that everyone was looking at her.

  Tara said, “Well shit, what did the doofus have to say this time?”

  “I have to sleep in the Dankstone Cemetery tonight. I guess I’m supposed to be scared. One person is allowed to go with me.”

  Tara, Bo and Darominius looked at each other as Whitney searched for her bag with the iPad in it.

  Darominius was the first to speak up. “I shall escort you, Whitney. I’ll make sure no harm comes to you.”

  Whitney smiled. “Alright, we just have to wait for the guy to call.”

  Tara was staring at Darominius again, which made Whitney long for Trent. Her stomach churned and she wondered when or if she would be able to see him again. She hadn’t been able to figure out who the kidnapper was and didn’t even know if Trent was still alive. The eeriness of Dankstone and uneasiness from Trent’s kidnapping was wreaking havoc on her nerves.

  She bounced back and forth around the room for a little while as she tried to corral the unbridled energy. She pulled a burgundy cushioned footstool over to the desk and laid her iPad on the top. She searched for Dankstone Cemetery. The first few results were articles about paranormal investigators trying to get video footage of the witch ghosts. The most recent attempt appeared to have been in 1995.

  Whitney made a mistake and hit the Images button. She had seen these images before, but they appeared much worse this time. She shut off the power and paced around the room again.

  Whitney pulled an old paperback out of her backpack and opened it to one of her favorite passages. She hoped reading it would calm her down. She opened it to the back and started reading.

  The Trial of Ellen McCarron

  “Have you any final words?” the judge asked.