Legends of Windemere

West Park Asylum

Rich and Ian are frozen in place as they gaze through the window at the destruction and chaos in the common room. Tables have been tipped over and chairs have been hurled outside, one of them drawing their attention to the outburst. One of the bookcases has been knocked over to block the main entrance while the exit to the garden has been locked. The bent key is still sticking out of the keyhole, forcing the staff to try and break the door down. An orderly is twitching on the ground after being zapped by his own stun gun, the sedative syringes having been broken in the scuffle. Two more attendants are struggling to keep a black-haired woman in the corner and tend to her battered face. Security is busy trying to catch Dawn, who is leaping over the couches and lashing out at anyone that gets too close. The uniformed men are limping from kicks to the groin and chairs to the knees. A high-pitched cry rings out from the largest of the guards when Dawn jabs him in the eye with an empty syringe.

“Stay away from me!” she screams, crawling onto a table and crouching. She leaps over the charging guards and lands on the heavy television, which wobbles beneath her weight. “Nobody feeds my unicorn without my permission! He’s on a very specific diet of grass, apples, and shrimp. So punish Jenny!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the other woman cries while pressing gauze to the bite wound on her cheek. She curls into a ball when the television remote shatters against the wall above her head. “Please don’t hurt me. I won’t go near your unicorn again. I’ll be more careful. I didn’t even see him.”

“Him? My unicorn is a girl!” Dawn replies while she rocks her awkward perch. Security reaches for her, so she swiftly breaks one of their fingers and bites into the fleshy hand of another. “Gross. Wash up before work. I taste fear and sweat. Stop trying to catch me. You’re not in charge here!”

With a malicious grin, Dawn puts out her arms and shakes the television until it pitches forward. The heavy electronic crashes on top of the guards and pins them to the ground, broken glass surrounding them. Hitting one of the couches with her back, the brunette cackles like a little girl and flips over the furniture. Dawn does nothing to stop herself from slamming into the floor, her face leaving a bloody splotch on the tile. As if nothing happened, she hops to her feet and takes a deep breath through her broken nose. She spits out a tooth, which she casually reclaims and swallows.

“It’ll grow back,” Dawn claims while approaching the small group in the corner. As if seeing Rich and Ian for the first time, she spins around to blow them a kiss. “Nobody likes peeping toms, boys. Except the blonde who keeps trying to walk around naked. I don’t know if I like her. Now I forgot why I was mad. Where did my unicorn go? Did somebody scare him away?”

“You said that your unicorn ran into the forest because I gave her a piece of pineapple and that made her hyper,” Jenny replies, hoping that being helpful will get her out of trouble. The injured woman’s goes dry when she sees the rage aimed at her again. “I’m really sorry, Dawn. I didn’t know and . . . Jeremy told me it would make us friends. Yeah, he gave me the idea. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you.”

“What would I ever want from something like you?” Dawn asks in utter disgust. She spits on the floor at the woman’s feet and raises her head like an arrogant ruler. “I rule Raven’s Hold with an iron fist and a kind touch. You may not realize it, but all of this is for me and my beloved King. If only I knew where I left him. So there is nothing I would ever need from a peasant that readily grovels at my feet. Always remember that you are in my kingdom and angering me is dangerous. Unless I’m in the right mood and then we’ll flip a coin to see what happens. I will consider the fact that you were tricked by Jeremy. After all, I am a benevolent Queen and nothing without my citizens. Maybe not nothing, but I’d definitely get bored. For now, be gone from my presence.”

“Be gone from your presence?”

“Run like a little bunny before I eat your eyeballs.”

“But the doors are blocked.”

“Then go out the hallway window.”

“Those don’t open.”

Frustrated with the difficult woman, Dawn grabs a chair that she uses to beat the remaining orderlies to the floor. Tossing the blood-dripping weapon aside, she grabs Jenny by the arm and flashes a chilling grin. Spinning on her toes, the brunette hurls the terrified woman at the window, but the weeping body only cracks the glass. Dawn cocks her head to the side and goes to poke at the damage while Jenny uses the couch to help her stand. Still wanting her victim to leave, she grabs her fellow patient by the hair and beats her against the window. She only stops when the doors to the garden are bashed open and she sees the reflection of Dr. Rutherford entering. Ten guards and orderlies are filing in with their boss, each one armed with a stun gun and making a wall at the back of the room.

“You dare to challenge me, Grace?” Dawn asks while gently placing Jenny on the nearest chair. Without hesitation, she kicks the legs out from under the piece of furniture and sends the unconscious woman to the floor. “This peasant needs to pay for overstepping her bounds. She fed my unicorn, which you know is punishable by severe punishment. Now go back to your files and sessions. None of this concerns you.”

“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t angry and disappointed,” Grace states, her normally calm voice holding a subtle edge. She picks up a nearby chair and quietly sits, her glasses nearly slipping off her nose. “I understand that Ms. Cohl upset you and your pet has run away. Yet, that does not give you a right to injure others. All of these men and women need medical attention because of your actions. Justified as you may think you are, there is never a reason to cause so much brutality. You would be upset if you were on the receiving end of such actions. Please remember that you are here to get better and rejoin society without being a danger to others. I fear that I’m failing you, Ms. Addison, and for that I apologize. Now, what do you believe we should do here?”

Feeling slightly diffused, Dawn bites her lower lip and drums her bare toes on the sticky floor. As her anger fades, she picks up on the tension in the room and realizes that it is all directed at her. The sight of the stun guns and the doctor makes her sweat, her teeth slowly piercing her lip. Backing away, she glances out the window at the hallway and sees armored figures waiting with sword-sized syringes. Cat-faced bats hang upside down and press their noses against the glass, their tongues writing her name on the misty surface. Touching the doorknob, Dawn yanks her hand back when she feels the fangs of a spider strike her palm and the poison runs up her arm. Blue veins throbs beneath her skin and she grabs an edged piece of plastic to make a long cut around her bicep. She watches the toxin seep down to her fingers, tiny skulls laughing at her from the ichor.

For the first time in years, Dawn feels scared and weak, which drives her into a panic. When one of the guards shifts uncomfortably, she assumes they are about to rush her. Refusing to give up without a fight, the brunette grabs a book and throws it at Dr. Rutherford. The projectile knocks the blonde woman off the chair, causing one of the guards to bend down and check his boss. Dawn races for the opening in the wall and uses the crouched man to help her leap out one of the windows. She lands on the grass and races toward the distant woods, avoiding the few orderlies that try to catch her. Several patients leap in to help and tackle the staff to give their fellow patient a clear path to the wilderness. Unleashing a maddening scream and holding her head, Dawn plunges into the forest and disappears among the trees.

“Hurry up or we’ll lose her,” Ian whispers while backing away from the window. He watches those inside tend to the injured, none of them paying attention to him or Rich. “I don’t think she should be alone right now. Come on or she might do something foolish. Why aren’t you following?”

“Because it’s Dawn Addison,” Rich replies, catching his friend by the wrist. He crouches and takes Ian down with him, making sure they remain out of sight. “This is the woman who wrapped duct tape around your neck. She tries to make you eat your breakfast in a bowl on the floor every morning. I don’t have anything against her, but I’m not going out of my way to check on her. Besides, the idea of being in that forest gives me the creeps. They get worse when I imagine being alone with Dawn in there.”

“So she thinks I’m a dog and not person. She’s still one of us,” the younger man says, sighing at the eye roll he gets in return. Slipping his wrist free, Ian crawls backwards until he is out of reach. “Fine, she’s one of my people since you’re not supposed to be here. Haven’t you wanted to investigate the forest anyway? You’re always talking about the basement, but the source of the ghosts could be there too. If you really want to prove you’re not delusional then you need to check every lead.”

Rich clicks his camera a few times and watches as several patients are escorted back to the building. “I hope you realize that you’re a horrible person. If I was delusional then you’re only feeding my problems and making it harder for me to leave this place. Think about that while we check on Dawn and see if we can find an open grave or disturbed holy land. We’re only going out there for an hour though. Once the sun is over there, the mission is over and I’m coming back with or without you.”

“Deal, but I’ll take the lead.”

Ian begins to crawl along the ground, but stops when he realizes how suspicious that would be. Instead, he calmly walks toward the furthest tennis court that is only a few yards away from the edge of the forest. Rich remains a few steps behind, which makes his friend think he will retreat at any moment. Nobody pays any attention to the pair since there is already a group playing a game. Ian waves to the orderly and stretches his arms before breaking into a slow jog and gesturing for Rich to do the same. They make a few laps around the court, their circles gradually getting wider and wider. None of those inside the fenced area pay much attention to the pair and focus more on their game.

“Make a break for it now,” Ian hisses when they are on their seventh pass of the forest. He sprints for the trees and is happy to hear Rich is right behind him. The two men hear some yelling from the orderly and patients, but they have vanished into the shadowy forest before any of them can reach the fence’s door.

West Park Asylum

The white-haired private investigator is napping against the door when Carla arrives at Ian’s apartment. She struggles to get the key from her pocket while balancing are armful of her brother’s mail. A gentle nudge to the snoring man’s leg does nothing to wake him up, so she opens the door and lets him fall inside. Mr. Orson groans and stands up, wiping dirt off his coat as if nothing happened. Putting a finger to his lips, he leads his employer into the apartment and to a small table. The man stretches his sore legs while taking in his surroundings, his keen eyes noticing that the place has been recently cleaned.

“I’m always surprised that you keep his place clean and organized,” Mr. Orson says, turning around to see that two of the rooms have police tape across the closed doors. A large stack of letters and magazines catches his eye, all of the envelopes having been opened. “I assume you found nothing in that pile, which is why you contacted me again. Though you won’t like what I have to tell you.”

“How hard is it to find a place when you have the name?” Carla impatiently asks while looking through the new mail. She frowns at the sight of a letter from Ian’s insurance company, reminding him that his medication is no longer being covered by his new plan. “I know I shouldn’t be angry since I can’t find anything more than forum comments about this Raven’s Hold. Even those are vague, which makes me think this place is off the grid. Then again, they have ways of finding people. I found this on Ian’s dresser when I came here at the beginning of the week.”

“You’re right that there is nothing on the Internet about Raven’s Hold, which is strange in this day and age,” the investigator agrees as he takes the folded paper that is slide across the table. His eyebrows twitch when he sees the fancy stationary of the mysterious asylum and he reads the simple letter of invitation. “Interesting how this place has no address, but there appears to be a space for it. Now, I had to go old school on this hunt. I made some calls to the contacts I made during my previous searches for your brother. Most of them have never heard of such a place while the rest spoke of rumors. Nothing very clear beyond a place that supposedly searches for difficult patients and takes them away from society.”

“Never to return?”

Mr. Orson sighs and hands the letter back before getting to his feet. He gets himself a glass of water from the sink and pops a few aspirin to help with a headache. Over the last two days, he has barely slept and routinely thinks he is being watched by something just beyond his sight. It is a chill that runs up his spine in the dark, which he typically chalks up to overall stress. This is the first time in his lengthy career that a location has been so hard to find. Mr. Orson is used to people and objects being elusive, but he has never heard of an entire institution giving an investigator so much trouble. Turning to face his employer, he straightens his back and does his best to retain some of his professional dignity.

“There’s no way to tell if people get out of this place or not,” Mr. Orson states, his hands cradling the cool glass. Licking his lips, he takes another drink and feels the pressure behind his green eyes lessen. “It’s possible that they take people who will never recover, so they are never fit to leave. Then again, another idea is that anyone who released is made to sign a very strict confidentiality agreement. With the secrecy of this institution, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re doing things that they want to keep out of the public eye. That could be either illegal or methods they wish to keep to themselves.”

“None of that makes me feel any better,” Carla mentions before going to clean some dust she sees on the nearby television. “Ian always had a habit of overreacting and being taken advantage of. He’s too nice and that gets him into trouble. More than likely, this institution is really a cult that is trying to milk him out of every cent he has. I found the passwords that he uses for his online accounts and nothing has moved. The letter said that the work for free, but that doesn’t mean it’s the truth. Were you able to find anything?”

“I’ve only been searching for two days, so I’ve had no time to confirm those rumors that I mentioned earlier,” Mr. Orson states, unsure if he should continue talking. Remembering how Carla hates being kept in the dark, he sighs and accepts that he must reveal every scrap of information he has uncovered. “Keep in mind that this is all hearsay. None of my contacts have ever heard of Raven’s Hold or an institution that matches the methods of this place. They did admit to knowing of a doctor who gained some infamy about fifteen years ago. Her name was Grace Rutherford and she was considered a brilliant psychologist. If she really exists then she got her PhD and disappeared. Again, I have no definitive proof since I only learned about the name last night. I attempted a simple browser search, but you’d be surprised how many women are out there named Grace Rutherford. Didn’t even have enough time to eliminate any from the list, which I’ll do tonight.”

With the hint of a smirk, Carla sits on the arm of a leather couch. “Why do they think it’s this woman?”

“Ms. Rutherford had an interest in difficult cases and spoke openly about such people needing special help,” he answers while thumbing through a small notebook. He cringes at the taste of ink and sweat on his skin. “I guess she thought the modern methods weren’t good enough for some people. My contacts said her ideas made her a laughing stock even though she graduated with high grades. They doubt she would have gotten a post-doctorate position or a job of any kind since she was rather adamant about her beliefs. Again, this is if the person is still alive or existed in the first place.”

“Did you hear about any locations?”

“One person said they knew her and she was originally from a coastal town in Oregon.”

“I didn’t see any plane ticket purchases on Ian’s credit card.”

“If Raven’s Hold is paying for everything then you wouldn’t see the purchase.”

“How much more time do you need to confirm things?”

“I have other cases, but I think I can get it done by the end of next week.”

“Thank you. I’ll give you what we agreed upon and some extra to see if it can be done by the middle of next week.”

Flexing her fingers, Carla gets her checkbook and swiftly writes a modest payment for the investigator. Mr. Orson finishes his drink and puts the glass in the dishwasher before heading out the door with his money. Alone in her brother’s apartment, the young woman hunts for any dust or dirt to eliminate. She spends an hour cleaning while thinking about what she can do to bring Ian home as fast as possible. It is aggravating that she can only wait and worry instead of taking action like she normally does.

“It’s my brother, so I have to do something,” Carla says as she takes out her phone. She locks up the apartment while dialing her husband who picks up immediately. “I’m heading home now, dear. Mr. Orson didn’t find much, but he had a location. It’s Oregon, so I was thinking of taking a week-long trip to Portland. I’ll need to rent a car, but I plan on bringing work along to make it a business trip. Yes, I can wait a day or two. I don’t want to get you in trouble with your boss. I’ll do the food shopping before I leave and I’ll update the notes on how to survive without me. Thank you for understanding, dear. Tell the girls that mommy is going to bring Uncle Ian home. Love you too. See you at home.”

West Park Asylum

“I just want you to watch the girls for a day or two,” Carla says as she hunts for her missing sandals. Feeling rushed, she ties her dark brown hair back while the phone is pressed between her head and shoulder. “You have more than enough vacation time to take a day or two off from time to time. It’s been a month since Ian contacted me and I’m worried. This Raven’s Hold has no website and my friend who is a psychologist has never heard of it. My meeting with Mr. Orson isn’t for another two hours, so you have plenty of time to get back home. Just tell your boss it’s a family emergency. He knows about my brother’s problems, so it shouldn’t surprise him that this is happening. If you want, I can call your father to come and take over tomorrow, so you don’t lose your precious vacation time. Love you too, dear.”

Carla waits for her husband to hang up first before turning her phone off and pretending to strangle the device. Snatching her favorite necklace off her dresser, she spins it on her finger and relaxes while watching the pewter penguin fly in a circle. She hears a door opening behind her and swiftly turns around to see her youngest daughter waddle into the room. The four-year-old is trying to walk in her mother’s sandals while her treasured blanket is wrapped around her like a dress. Carla cannot stop herself from smiling as she kneels in front of her child and opens her arms for a hug.

“You look beautiful, Sarah” she whispers to the girl whose face is still covered in tomato sauce. “Where is your sister? The apartment is too quiet.”

“I’m a decoy!” the child happily declares before falling on her rump. “Allison want me to keep you here. She not eating.”

“Ally!”

Carla rushes out of the room to find her oldest daughter standing on the kitchen counter with a paintbrush in her hand. The eight-year-old has a pile of books beneath her feet and is on her toes to reach the ceiling. A sloppy rainbow coming out of a yellow triangle has already been completed and her brush is covered in white for the next part. The floor and counter are covered in spilled paint, tiny footprints telling Carla that her youngest has been walking through the mess. Glancing at the four-year-old, she can see smears of red and blue on the inside of her favorite sandals. Walking to Allison, she hoists the frozen girl onto her shoulder and delivers a solid smack to the rump. She is surprised by the muffled impact and notices that the child has stuffed one of her washcloths into her pants.

“I was prepared this time,” Allison proudly says with a grin. Her expression changes when she is sat on the counter and her mother grabs a nearby flyswatter. “The paint washes off with water. Don’t be too mad.”

Carla slaps the flyswatter onto a nearby wasp with enough force to make her daughter jump off the counter. “I don’t know if I’m angrier about the painting or how dangerous it was to stand on a stack of books. At least put your sister’s stepstool up there. I can only handle destruction and danger separately when it comes to you two. Go get me some wipes from my purse, so I can clean my shoes.”

“Are you going away to yell at Uncle Ian again?” Sarah asks while sitting down to take the sandals off. She puffs out her lower lip and hands the shoes to her mom, who gives her a playful pinch on the nose. “You should ground him like you do to Allison. That way you always know where he is.”

“I’ll consider that idea,” Carla replies as she uses the moist wipes to clean the paint. She catches Allison by the wrist when the girl returns with a dripping mop. “Only on the floor and I better not see you using that on your sister. I don’t want to leave your father with any more of a mess than I have to. You stay out of the way, Sarah. I know you’re already thinking of playing in the dirty water. I want both of you to behave while I get ready.”

“Yes, mom!” the girls say in unison.

Carla leaves her bedroom door open enough to hear even the slightest sound from the kitchen. The damp sandals and a large splotch of paint on her shirt make her sigh, driving her to the nearly barren closet. It takes her several minutes to find a shirt that is not stained or so old that she swears it was given to charity years ago. A simple t-shirt is the best she can do and she grabs a dark green jacket in order to have some color in her outfit. Carla jots down a note for her husband to do laundry and leaves a roll of quarters for him to use. As an afterthought, she gets forty dollars out of her purse along with a coupon for the bounce house place next to the laundromat.

“Mom! Allison is stealing snacks!” Sarah shouts from down the hall. The girl can be heard whispering before her voice rings out again, muffled by the food in her mouth. “Never mind! I didn’t see anything!”

“You two are lucky I’m distracted and in a rush,” their mother says, sticking her head out of the room. She sees her daughters on the floor with a box of cookies between them, the package poorly cloaked by a throw pillow. “I’m tired and probably won’t be home until late tonight. Go ahead and eat all of the snacks. Then you’ll get a tummy ache and be too sick for the zoo tomorrow. Is that what you want?”

“We’ll put them back, mom,” Allison says in defeat.

Scooping up her phone and tossing it into her purse, Carla hurries across the apartment to the office. With more than enough time to prepare, she packs a few odds and ends, including the key to Ian’s apartment. Her fingers stop on a picture of her brother when he held his son for the first time. Thinking back, it is the last time she remembers seeing Ian smile or show any genuine sign of happiness.

“What trouble are you in now, little brother?” Carla whispers in exasperation.