I Dream Of Being Attacked By An Invisible Force
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It was a long, hot drive from the railroad station to the ranch. I had no idea how much time passed as we rode along in silence; it felt like an eternity before we reached our destination. We pulled into the stable and tied up the horses.
“What happened?” I asked when he finally turned back around to look at me. “Why did you leave without telling me where we were going? You could have told me that we were going somewhere else.”
He frowned and shook his head. He seemed distracted. He didn’t answer my question directly but said instead, “There’s something wrong with this place.”
His words sent a chill through me. Was there really something wrong here or was he just trying to scare me? Did he think that if he scared me enough I’d stop searching for him? The thought made me angry. How dare he try to frighten me!
“Don’t tell me what is right and what is wrong,” I snapped angrily. “You’re not in charge of me anymore. I’m doing this search on my own now.”
He looked stunned by my response. Then he slowly nodded his head. “That’s fine.”
We walked inside the main house and stopped in front of the door leading down to the cellar. I knew we wouldn’t find him here. But then again, maybe we would. If nothing else, it was worth looking at.
My hands trembled as I tried to open the lock. It took several attempts before it finally opened. When we entered the basement, the first thing I saw was the skeleton lying motionless near the stairs. There were other bones scattered about on the floor. Some appeared old. Others still had flesh attached. They must be part of some animal or person who lived here years ago.
The room beyond the stairwell was dark and dusty. Dusty wasn’t the word for it though. Everything was covered in dust. As soon as I stepped closer, a cloud of white powder rose up between us. The floor beneath my feet felt slippery. What was happening?
When I touched the wall to turn on the light switch, my hand slipped off the damp surface. Water dripped everywhere. A cold mist began to form. Before I knew it, water was pouring out of nowhere. No sooner did I reach the end of the hall than the entire area was submerged under three inches of water.
“This isn’t possible!” I shouted.
A loud thunder filled my ears and grew louder with every second until the room was engulfed in darkness. All sounds disappeared except for the pounding of my heart. I couldn’t breathe. I stumbled toward the stairs to get out of the basement, but the steps were gone too.
Where did they go? I started climbing the walls but quickly realized that the walls were also gone. I fell backward onto the wet floor. I grabbed hold of the nearest bone-covered object and held tight. This wasn’t real. I wanted someone to pinch me so hard that I’d wake up and realize all this was only a dream.
But the more I struggled against the invisible force holding me down, the stronger it became. The next thing I knew I was being dragged across the floor and into a corner. My arms and legs flailed helplessly in the air. I screamed in frustration. Suddenly everything went black…
***
I woke to find myself in the same position I’d been in during my last nightmare. My wrists and ankles were bound behind my back. The ropes were so tightly wrapped that I couldn’t move them even slightly.
My eyes blinked rapidly to adjust to the sudden change in light. The room was dim. A single lamp lit the far side of the ceiling. I squinted at the light bulb hanging above my head. Something was wrong with the way the light reflected off it. I stared at it for several seconds until the image came into focus. I gasped and dropped my head back to stare at the ceiling.
Water poured down on me from overhead. Not a trickle of water; a torrential downpour. And it wasn’t just water coming down, it was ice too. Cold water mixed with freezing droplets of hail.
The room suddenly brightened with sunlight streaming in through one small window set high in the wall. For a moment I forgot about the icy water surrounding me and stared at the sunlight. Why was it shining through such a tiny hole? Then I remembered where I was and what was happening to me. I let out an anguished cry.
It was another dream. Only this time I hadn’t woken up yet. I’d already fallen asleep in my chair and dreamed the whole thing. That’s why the sun was shining. It was daytime.
At least that meant it was daylight outside. Now I could use the glass door leading to the porch. With luck, I might be able to escape before nightfall. I had no idea how long I’d been unconscious when I woke up in this room. Could it have been days since I’d come home from the train station? Maybe weeks! Would anyone miss me if I didn’t return home tonight?
If I hurried, I should be able to make it out of here before the sun sank below the horizon. I could ride around town on one of the horses left outside. At the very worst I’d run into people on the street who would help me.
I didn’t think there were any strangers living here now. Just the two men we met at dinner and Mr. Collins, the owner of the ranch. Even if we did meet someone, they wouldn’t know me. I was nobody special. I was a woman in disguise. I was the perfect cover.
There was just one problem. I needed to untie my hands and feet before I could try to leave. I glanced over at the skeleton again. I doubted it would give me any clues, but I had to see exactly what kind of restraints it wore. There was no telling which ones I’d need to free myself from. If I freed myself too early, I risked getting caught. But if I waited too long, I might never escape.
Before I reached out to touch its bones, I hesitated. Did I really want to do this? I took a deep breath and then bent over to take a closer look. When I looked back, the skeleton had vanished. Was this some sort of trick?
Had someone hidden the skeleton away while I watched? Or maybe it had simply moved itself to another spot. I stepped forward and placed my hand on the closest bone. Nothing happened. I felt nothing. No tug or pull. As far as I could tell, I wasn’t touching anything. How was it possible to move something without feeling a tug? I tried moving the other bones. Still nothing.
Something cold and slimy brushed against my fingers. I jerked back and wiped my hand across my pants leg. Before I could blink, the entire room disappeared. In place of the gloomy room with the musty smell of dust and dampness was a brightly lit room filled with sunshine and warmth.
“Whoa!” I yelled as I stumbled backward. “What is this?”
A young boy ran by carrying a bucket. He stopped short when he saw me. “Sorry, Miss. You startled me.” His voice was barely audible.
He turned and ran toward the house. I followed him. When he entered the kitchen, I paused inside the doorway and listened. The sound of chopping echoed from somewhere beyond the kitchen. I peeked into the next room and found three children huddled together near the stove.
They stared at me wide-eyed. One girl was younger than the others. She held her doll close to her chest and clung to her brother’s arm. They both shuddered at my presence.
I quickly exited the kitchen. By the time I returned to the parlor, the skeleton was gone. I closed my eyes and concentrated on finding it. I knew where it was because it was right in front of me. After several minutes of searching, I located the skull in a dark corner beside a large bookcase.
When I touched the skull, a sharp pain shot through my palm. I yanked my hand back. What was wrong with it? Where had all these marks appeared? A thin layer of black scum covered the top half of the skull. The rest of it was clean. This made little sense to me. It was as if the body was trying to rid itself of impurities.
The skeleton seemed to have no trouble moving about, even though it had only four limbs. I wondered what I should do next. I couldn’t stand in the parlor forever. My curiosity would eventually get the best of me. I had to find a way to release myself from those shackles. Then I’d have to figure out how to escape. And once I escaped, I still had to decide what to do about the children.
My gaze drifted to the window. If I could somehow reach it, I’d be able to climb down and slip out of the yard. But climbing down a rope ladder would be difficult enough; doing so while wearing handcuffs would be impossible.
After staring for a moment at the window, I glanced back at the skeleton. Its head hung limply over the side of the chair. Maybe that was part of the reason why the skeleton refused to answer questions.
I wasn’t sure if I believed the story about being trapped between worlds, but it certainly sounded plausible. Could it be possible that I was in the same place as the skeleton? If so, did that mean I was also stuck in limbo until someone came along to set me free?
I didn’t know if I believed that either, but there were many things about this case that defied logic. That included the fact that I was still alive. I hadn’t been killed yet—or at least I didn’t think I had been.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts. All the talk of limbo was making my brain feel like mush. I had to concentrate on one thing at a time. I wouldn’t get anywhere unless I figured out how to get free first. So I started by freeing myself.
***
As soon as I freed myself from the cuffs, I rushed to the door and unlocked it. I pulled the door open and stepped outside. There was no sign of the children. Not surprising since they weren’t allowed outdoors after dark.
I walked around to the back of the house and found them huddled near an old well. Two of them sat on a wooden bench with their backs pressed against each other. Another boy lay on his stomach and leaned his chin up against his knees.
Only two of the kids looked healthy enough to go to school. Most of the others looked malnourished. The older girls and boys wore dirty dresses and torn shoes. Some of the younger ones wore ragged clothing.
I crouched before the oldest girl and whispered, “Are you hungry?”
She nodded. Her small shoulders trembled. I handed her a sandwich wrapped in wax paper. As she unwrapped the bread and meat, I took off my gloves and reached out to touch her cheek. “You’re going to be fine,” I told her.
Her brown eyes widened and she jerked away. “No!” She tried to push past me to return inside the house. “We don’t need any help. We’ll be just fine here.”
That was exactly what I’d hoped to hear. I wanted them to stay put. I had no idea how long I’d be gone from the house or whether anyone else would come looking for me.
By the time I returned to the parlor, the skeleton had disappeared again. I stood motionless for several minutes wondering when he would reappear. When nothing happened, I hurried into the bedroom. Before I left the room, I removed my watch. I thought maybe it might draw attention to me. I slipped it under my shirt and tied a knot in my hair. Then I headed for the front porch.
Before I reached the steps, I heard voices coming from behind the house. Both men’s voices. One sounded familiar, although I couldn’t quite place him. They must not have seen me leave the house because neither man stopped talking.
At least they hadn’t spotted the children. Yet. I waited a few moments longer to make certain the men didn’t notice anything unusual then went downstairs. I opened the front door and stepped outside.
The two men were standing across the street from the house. Their faces turned toward me. I ducked back inside and locked the door. For a brief instant, I considered running back upstairs to hide but decided against it. I had no idea where to run to. Even if I got away from the house, I still needed to figure out a way to get rid of the shackles.
“Who is it?” demanded one of the men. It was the stranger who seemed most interested in me. He appeared to be in his late thirties, but his hair was streaked with gray. His face showed signs of hard living. He wore a black suit and hat with a large gold chain dangling from his vest pocket.
“It’s just a woman,” replied the other man. I recognized his voice now. It belonged to the sheriff. “A woman with too much curiosity.”
“What do you want?” I asked.
“How did you get out?” the sheriff asked.
“I’m a private investigator hired by Mr. Anderson to look into some suspicious circumstances surrounding his wife.”
The sheriff snorted. “Don’t try to fool us, lady. You’ve never met Mrs. Anderson.”
He probably meant that as a joke, but I could tell it didn’t amuse the man. Instead of responding, I said, “If you’ll excuse me—”
Both men cut me off.
“Come along with us,” the sheriff ordered. “We can sort this whole mess out right here in town.”
I stared at the sheriff. This was getting ridiculous. Why wasn’t I allowed to go home? Did these men think I’d hurt someone or something? I wondered how many more people were involved in all this. Had they already arrested me? Was there even a law enforcement officer in town? If so, why hadn’t he shown himself yet?
Instead of answering, I gave both men a smile. “I hope we’re not interrupting anything important.”
Neither man answered. In fact, they exchanged glances and looked like they were thinking about doing something drastic.
For a moment I debated trying to escape through the window. But that wouldn’t work unless I managed to knock down either man first. And if I failed to strike them, they might shoot me. Or worse.
I backed away from the windows and shut the curtains. That should keep the men busy until I figured out what to do next.
***
I spent hours pacing the floor of the parlor while waiting for the men to finish their business. The children remained in the same spot on the rug. Every once in a while I’d glance over to see if the skeletons were watching me.
No such luck. I was sure they were staring at me, though. After a couple of hours, the older boy began crying. By nightfall, he’d cried himself to sleep. I guessed he must miss his mother terribly. I didn’t know how long it had been since his family died, but it must have been years ago judging from the state of the children’s clothes.
When I finally fell asleep, I dreamed that I was in the cemetery. My body was buried beneath the ground, but my mind floated above my grave. Above the earth rose an enormous headstone engraved with my name.
On top of the stone was carved the word “murderess.” I awoke startled and sweating. I sat up in bed. A chill ran up my spine. I glanced around the room for a candle to light. When I found none, I lit one from the fireplace instead.
As soon as the fire crackled, I picked up the old photograph. I studied it closely, hoping to find some clue about who the woman in the picture might be. I tried to remember her features, but I couldn’t recall any specifics. All I remembered was the look in her eyes. Her eyes were haunted—like mine.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” whispered the woman in the picture. She spoke softly, almost as if she didn’t dare speak loudly enough for anyone to hear. “And yet somehow you survive.”
She was dressed differently than I had seen her before, wearing a blue dress trimmed with white lace. She had dark hair parted neatly in the middle and tied with a ribbon. Her makeup was expertly applied but only made her appear paler.
Her words reminded me of another person’s warning: “They’ll come after you.” Who are they? Where will they take me? I shivered and hugged myself. What would happen to me when I got to wherever I was being taken? Would I ever return to my real life? I hoped not. I hated being in this world of darkness and death.
But then again, maybe it was time to move on. I was no longer needed in this place where people lived in fear and superstition. There was nothing left for me here. Not anymore.
While searching for answers in the photograph, I realized the woman was smiling. So was I. We both looked happy, although our faces were different. Mine held sorrow. Hers… well hers still held grief, but also a hint of happiness.
The dream I’d just experienced seemed like a premonition. I was being warned. But who or what was warning me?
The door opened without warning. The children jumped. The younger girl let out a piercing shriek. Both kids scrambled backward, but the older boy stayed rooted in his spot. He watched me with wide eyes. Then he turned away, refusing to meet my gaze.
“Go back to your room!” the sheriff yelled.
I ignored him and continued studying the photo. The woman’s face was drawn; her mouth pinched into a thin line. It looked like she’d lost weight, which was strange because I knew I weighed more than that. At least ten pounds heavier. Could it be possible that this woman had gained weight during her lifetime?
In spite of my curiosity, I placed the picture carefully on the table beside me. I took a seat across from the children, wondering how to start talking to them.
Both boys stared at me expectantly, so I said, “Hello! I’m Mrs. Fletcher.”
The older child nodded and smiled. His brown eyes sparkled. I could tell he wasn’t used to meeting new people. Although I couldn’t see his expression clearly, there was something endearing about his round face and dimples. He wore a dirty white shirt that was buttoned all the way up to the collar.
He did seem familiar. As soon as I thought about it, I realized why. I’d seen him before, but not exactly. I recalled seeing a similar child in a painting hung inside the church. Was the boy in the portrait actually the man I saw today? That was impossible. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to ask.
“Where is the boy?” I asked the sheriff.
His brows furrowed. “Who says we’ve got a boy?” he replied, obviously confused.
The other child began to cry. I noticed the boy’s skin was darker than his brother’s. He must have been adopted. Or maybe he was simply born in town. After all, many children in small towns grew up surrounded by family members, unlike those in cities.
“It’s okay,” I assured him. “Don’t worry, everything will work out fine.”
Still, he cried louder.
“Now listen to me,” the sheriff growled. “That little brat doesn’t belong to us. We don’t know anything about him. Now stop crying right now. You’re scaring the lady.”
At first, the child didn’t respond, but then he stopped wailing. His tears dried instantly. For a moment, I wondered if I’d imagined his tears. They’d vanished so quickly. Maybe he hadn’t shed them at all. Perhaps I’d simply seen someone else crying. A man perhaps? No one came to mind, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t seen such a sight somewhere.
The sheriff gave me a hard stare. “This isn’t funny,” he snapped. “Stop laughing and get serious.”
Why was he angry? Had I done something wrong? I shook my head. I didn’t understand why the sheriff was upset. And what did I do anyway? I wasn’t making fun of the kid, I was trying to calm him down.
I tried to ignore the sheriff and focus on the boys, but my attention kept straying toward the photograph. In the background, I caught glimpses of an old house and barn, as well as two horses. This was the ranch, I guessed.
If it belonged to the woman, then the boys would most likely be related. But I’d never met anyone in this area whose last name was Fletcher. Why was that? What did the name Fletcher stand for?
When the sheriff finally returned to the table, he sat on the edge of the chair opposite me. His hand rested on his gun holster. He leaned forward. “You really want to find these children’s parents?”
“Yes, I think so,” I answered honestly. “Maybe they’ll be able to help me find my own.”
“But you don’t even know where to look,” he scoffed. “What makes you think their mother is still alive?”
“She looks like she might be in her sixties,” I explained, “so I assume she’s lived long enough to give birth to twins. She also appears healthy. So I doubt she died suddenly. On the contrary, I think she’s probably still around somewhere.”
“How do you know that?” he asked. “There are plenty of elderly women who die unexpectedly every year.”
I shrugged. “Just a guess.”
“And how do you plan to prove she’s still alive?”
I turned to the younger child and said, “Tell me your names again.”
The older boy named himself first, “Cody.” Then Cody told me his brother’s name, which was Cole.
After introducing myself, I said, “Let’s go outside.”
As soon as I stood, both children followed. Cody held tightly onto his brother’s hand. Together we walked over to the porch swing and climbed aboard. The children were silent. I looked at each of them and waited until they spoke.
Cole finally broke the silence with his usual sniffle. “My mama made us take off our shoes.”
Cody added, “We can’t wear our shoes ’cause the floor is too cold.”
They weren’t being shy, just cautious. I understood. It seemed obvious to me that the sheriff had no intention of letting the boys stay here. How could he let them spend another night under such terrible conditions?
“Do you have any toys?” I asked the brothers.
Neither boy responded. Their eyes darted back and forth between mine. They were afraid. I felt bad for them, especially after hearing them call themselves orphans. Who knew what kind of life awaited them when they went home tonight?
“Look,” I said, “if I’m going to search for the boys’ parents, I need to learn more about them. Tell me more about yourselves.”
Both boys nodded. At least I assumed they agreed since they didn’t protest otherwise.
So far, the sheriff hadn’t given me much information about the missing kids. Not knowing whether or not they’d been abducted by kidnappers was frustrating. Kidnapping was the worst crime imaginable.
Children were defenseless, unable to protect themselves. I couldn’t imagine losing a son or daughter. That was why I always tried to keep my family safe. But sometimes accidents happened—like fire or flood—that destroyed people’s lives. I prayed none of those disasters ever touched my family.
For a while, neither boy said anything. I thought they’d fallen asleep, but then they started whispering among themselves. I couldn’t make out their words, but it sounded like they were having a conversation.
Were they planning to run away from the sheriff? Was that what the whispers were about? I didn’t know. I hoped I’d learned enough from them to convince the sheriff to let them stay at the ranch. Otherwise, he wouldn’t listen to me.
The End