NOTE: This chapter has a shift in perspective. The usual story is first-person, but then it turns third-person during this chapter in particular. Just saying this to prevent confusion amongst the readers. Also, I want to give a little warning that this chapter briefly describes content that may be triggering or disturbing to some, so discretion is advised!

Hope you're enjoying! Read on…

Chapter 6:

These dreams were vivid. I still remember them. I remember that night, actually, I went to bed and fell asleep. Obviously I was tired from a hard day's work, but…I found myself in the clothing. You know, like a colonist.

I remember seeing, in the dream, it was early evening, and the air smelled of…bad BO and burning wood. I heard babies crying, and I remember passing a few mothers with their babies. All were wearing coifs and period costumes. I got closer to where I saw a fire burning in the center of this group of tents I found myself among. There was a line of people leading to the fire, and I had joined the line. The person in front of me smelled like they hadn't showered in heaven knows how long. I also found I was holding a pewter cup. Smelled bad and was dirty. Unwashed dishes were never a thing growing up, let's just say that.

Before I knew it, the man in front of me was being served God knew what in his cup…and I saw…you'll never guess. Thomasin, the Butcher. It was so strange. She had a pleasant demeanor. It shocked me. I still remember what was said between the two in the dream.

"Which was?" the interviewer asked.

The man in front of me was a…uh, Mr. Cage. He said: "This thin gruel will not quiet our bellies. We need real food."

Then, I hear Thomasin, rather graciously: "be grateful for what thou art given. We women only receive half a share."

Then…I see a tall man with messy, long black hair and a messy beard. He says to the woman, "Mother, the people are starving. Winter is almost upon us. We must venture inland if we are to survive." I realized it was her son, Ambrose.

Then, he turned to Mr. Cage in front of me, who spoke to him: "We agreed, Sir, that such a perilous course of action requires much prayer and consideration."

"Nothing shall be considered," Thomasin cut in. "We stay where my husband has left us. Until then, I shall hear no more from thee."

The interviewer nodded, listening to Cole's memory of the first dream he had that was out of the ordinary. "Was that all? There were more after this, you said, correct?"

Yes.

There were more. I think, 4 more, after this.

But I do remember that the next one, after this, was absolutely terrifying.

I was having my head locked in this cage thing. There were these spikes on the outside. If I were to reach into the cage to try and, say, feed myself, my arm would be all cut up. There were men around me, each speaking to me in their, you know, language of the time. I could easily smell myself, I was dirty and unclean. Like…at the same time, I was NOT myself. I was in someone else's body. It was so weird.

I heard the first voice: "A leader shall only lead with the consent of the governed. Thou hast lost our allegiance."

"Thou art hereby removed from thy position," another voice said, "and banished from our protection." It was the same man as in the other dream. Mr. Cage.

I found myself screaming: "YOU TRAITOROUS WRETCH! RELEASE ME! I will see to it that thou shalt hang!"

"I shall live," Mr. Cage replied, "as we all shall as we travel inland."

"P-Please," I heard another voice say. I realized it was Ambrose; he seemed so sad and even a bit shaken up. "She won't survive."

She? I'm not a she. I'm a he. That's what made me realize I wasn't in my own body. Mr. Cage spoke again.

"Let God's will be done," he said.

"Beg for reprieve," I heard Ambrose say, as he locked the back of the torture device so it was stuck to my neck. The weight on my shoulders was unreal. Well, it felt real, actually.

"I bend my knee to NO MAN!" I found myself screaming.

I don't remember the rest, but I remember finding myself in this…clearing. I felt hungry and tired in my dream. All I remember saying was "I repent. I repent, for the kingdom of Heaven is nigh."

That's when I woke up. I remember breaking a sweat. I rushed to get water. It was still early, too. Didn't need to be at work until 7 AM but I still was up for 2 hours before that because the dream horrified me so much.

"Tell me about the third dream, Cole," the interviewer said. Cole just froze, blinking blankly, his blue eyes expressionless. His face turned cold and pale. He looked down at his lap, not even thinking twice about continuing. It seemed to all just flow from him. It was vivid in description and petrifying in thought.

Well…

I had a dream two nights later. It was the third dream I had. It felt so long, too. I surprisingly slept through it all. When I woke up, though…

"Tell me the dream first, Cole, if you please," the interviewer inquired. Cole began to sound irritated and erratic.

I'm getting to it, if you let me. Geez.

After a pause, Cole started talking again, a grim, blank expression on his face – well…it seemed to leave off where I was out in the clearing. Except it was clearer. I could see trees upon trees around me. It was, again, really weird. That painfully hungry feeling swept over me again, and I was more tired in this dream than ever in my life. My shoulders and neck also hurt really bad. I think…I was abandoned. Left with nothing but prayers to save me. I…was dying…I was so hungry. Losing hope real fast, too.

I remember saying to myself, crying: "Lord, if it be your will that I'm to be torn apart by wild beasts…I…I surrender my soul for your safe keeping."

Then I heard…this awful noise. Like an animal being slaughtered. It was…wait…let me remember.

Okay, wait. I remember now.

I-It was a pig squeal. And I heard a knife blade, too. And blood splatter noises.

I was truly horrified at this point. But…it didn't end there. Before I knew it, this…I don't know, creature…came up to me. She had this…whisper…like a demon. It was frightening, and her looks…now, if she had brushed her hair, cleaned her teeth, and wore clothes that weren't rags, she would have been beautiful. She also had a…set of antlers or horns on her head.

I look through the bars on the device I'm locked into…and…I see this woman…she takes out a heart. A beating heart. She holds it toward me. It's still miraculously beating. I can't believe my eyes.

"Serve…" she whispers. "Eat…and surrender thy soul to me…"

I felt like Eve being tempted by the devil in Genesis. Before I could reach for the heart, I heard this loud sound. My eyes were shut, and…they opened to reveal that…the torture device was now broken. Completely off me…

That was all.

"What happened when you woke up?" the interviewer asked. Cole was reluctant to answer, but when he did, he only grew more frantic.

T-Turn off that camera.

"We can't, we-"

Turn it off! NOW!

The producer and interviewer both signaled the end of the interview, and Cole burst from his seat in the director's chair, storming out of the studio. He made his way out of the back door of the building, only to seat himself on the cement steps from the emergency exit. He reached into his pocket, taking out a small, wooden cigarette case and a lighter. He took the butt end to his lips and lit the end, taking a drag of the fresh, menthol tobacco. Cole kept it in his mouth as he put the lighter and case back into his pocket. Suddenly, he heard a voice.

"When did you start smoking?"

Cole turned around, ruffling his dark blond hair and his blue eyes looked at the interviewer, standing in the doorway. He was tall and young, perhaps in his late twenties to early thirties, with bright blue eyes, an intense jawline, and thick eyebrows that stood out and matched his brown hair. He held nothing in his hands, not even his pen and paper, walking toward the subject of the interview as the nicotine-rich emissions from Cole's lungs filled the vicinity around them.

"After the move," Cole replied, sounding a bit calmer.

"Listen," the interviewer said, sitting next to Cole. "I'm sorry for-"

"D-Don't apologize," the man replied. "Look, if anythin', I'm sorry for runnin' off like I did. It's not called for but…"

"Shh, shh, it's okay," the interviewer said. "Look, I know this entire experience has been heavy. You did agree to do this interview."

"I know that," Cole said, tapping the ash off the end of the cigarette as he took another drag, "and I'm really sorry for runnin' off set like that. Just that…" He paused, breathing some cigarette smoke from his nose, "m-my shrink told me to stay away from other people when I…well, when I have…you know…"

"I-I understand," the interviewer said.

Cole just looked at the man who had been interviewing him. He took a few more deep, heavy drags of the cigarette before stomping it out beneath his shoe on the ground.

"This don't help either," the young man chuckled. "My dad used to roll his own."

"Mr. Paterson," the interviewer said, "if you want to just skip that part of the interview, then we can. I'll make sure they edit all that out and you can go back in there-"

Cole just shook his head: "no. You said yourself, I agreed to this interview. I'm gonna go back in there and tell 'em, whoever's watchin', what happened."

The interview continued; Cole re-entered the studio and took his place back in the director's chair with the interviewer across from him. He was bold, and he had agreed to this. No turning back.

That woman was…moving on top of me.

I was inside her.

I didn't want it.

And…I wanted to save that for my wife…

But aside from this, I…I woke up…on grass. I was in the woods. I woke up to Barbi peering in as well. She was horrified. I could tell.

"W-What happened?!" I cried out in shock.

"What in God's name are you doing?" I heard Barbi ask.

"I-I don't know, I swear!" I screamed. I was exposed. My, uh, manhood was out. I was quick to hide it as soon as I noticed. I stood up, and looked around me, seeing if that creature was there, the one who…s-straddled me. Then I felt hands on me – let a scream out.

"It's me! Shh!" Barbi exclaimed.

"Where is she?!" I said, collapsing to my knees. I began to cry. "Where is she?! Who is she?!"

I never sobbed so much in my life. It…it was horrible. I felt her arms around me, like…I felt like I was in my mom's arms again. I felt her pat my back, lulling me…the typical 'calm down' sort of thing.

It did nothing. I wanted a shower more than anything. I was…violated.

"Can you tell us more about Cricket Marlowe?" the interviewer asked. "Did he ever return?"

You read my mind. I saw him later that day, actually. I didn't want him coming by, but…Barbi was her usual, graceful self. He came in. I had been in the living room. Sarah was sitting by the window; creepiest sight ever, if I ever did see. I spent 3 hours in a hot shower. Screw the water bill. I felt like God was cleansing me with that hot water.

When he entered, he took a seat across from Sarah, whose eyes went from the window to the small, effeminate old man. He greeted her, but…she ignored him.

"Hello, Sarah," he said. "Barbi let me in again, I hope y'all will accept my help this time."

"I'm not paying you that ungodly amount of money," I told him. "You can get lost right now."

"You've had a helluva mornin'," he told me. "Listen, I'd be willin' to help you for free from here on out…because I know of somethin' that could be of use to you in cleansin' this house and removin' them off the property for good."

Barbi stepped in. I couldn't say no: "Cole, please…h-he's making a deal with you. Please let him help us. I won't stay a second longer in this house if—"

"Fine."

I gave in. I even gave him the bed in the extra guest room until everything was over. It took me a bit to open up to him, but I was dying to know about those dreams. So…it was dinner that night. Cricket liked the food, and was impressed that Barbi had made it. It was beef stew with fresh baked bread. A poor man's meal, but, hey, man's gotta eat!

"I must tell y'all," Cricket said, "I know what we're dealin' with. You may think you know the whole story of the Roanoke disappearance, but you don't."

"It's been told to all us kids since kiddie school," Sarah said. "What's there to say?"

"Lots," Cricket said, sipping some Coke from his glass. "After being asked to leave your home here, I took a stroll in the woods and I realized…my mind was blasted."

Barbi just looked at him, finishing off the piece of bread she dipped into the stew. I also listened in.

"The spirits in this place downloaded to me like a…a paranormal zip drive," Cricket continued. "Remember the woman who sliced the candle in half?"

We all nodded, looking at him.

"Her Christian name was Thomasin White. Her husband was the governor of the Roanoke Colony. Life was harsh for settlers, and John was told to go back to England to get supplies," he explained. "He left her in change 'til his return. However, the colonists weren't happy with her stubbornness, feedin' them barely anythin' to line their bellies. T-They left her for dead, stuck an iron cage on her head."

That was the dream I had. I was…well, in the same situation.

"She was abandoned in the forest for days," Cricket continued, "dyin' of hunger and thirst. She had lost all hope. All that was left were her prayers. She was nearly attacked by a wild boar, until a woman saved her. This woman gave Thomasin a live beatin' heart to eat, and that it would help her regain her strength, so long as she served her."

I heard the clank of a spoon against the inside of a bowl. It was Barbi, who looked at me with raised eyebrows. She lost her appetite, but kept listening.

"So…then what?" I asked.

"Thomasin went back with the woman, and reclaimed her rightful place as first lady of the colony. She spared her son, but killed the rest who planned to travel inland for winter," he explained.

I looked at him, but couldn't help but notice the smug expression on Sarah. Her hazel eyes sparkled creepily, and there was a devilish smile in her lips. I tried to ignore it and listen to Cricket further.

"The colony moved here," he continued, "The Butcher claims dominion, and will kill you all if you do not leave this land."

I watched out of the corner of my eye at Barbi, who looked nauseated as she rubbed the malachite on her neck with her thumb. She looked down, and then to me.

"We should leave," she said to me, "he's right."

Truth is, I couldn't. I had spoken to a real estate agent who said that my money was pretty much tied up in the house. I was stuck there.

"I see," the interviewer said. "Now, let's go back to those tapes for a minute, and Professor Elias Cunningham. Did you suspect he was dead at all?" Cole's eyes just widened.

Oh, I'm ahead of you on that.