Witch Hunt!

By Kelly Roberts

Elizabeth Barnes is beset with nightmares of a foreign land, torture, and unspeakable pain. Only after seeking help is she able to understand the past hidden from her, and she must find the strength to survive once again!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roberts Publishing
• Release date: Oct 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781956999013

Kelly Roberts

Kelly Roberts is a hugely experienced children's book author who loves creating nonfiction content that will draw in readers of all abilities.

Book preview

In the dark of night

Sorrow found a voice...

Tether me not, for I shall find

The will to fight,

The strength to stand,

The courage to live...

Seek not my destruction,

Nor break my Spirit,

But instead...

Learn from my triumphs,

From my depths of despair,

From my loving heart...

CHAPTER  ONE

Elizabeth Barnes was afraid to close her eyes, and was past the point of exhaustion. She knew as soon as she allowed herself to drift off to sleep, she would awaken again, screaming in terror. Night after night for weeks, the same nightmare haunted her, testing her strength and sanity.

She hesitated as long as she could, making excuses to herself quietly, trying to convince herself that she was not afraid. She wished she had asked her girlfriend to stay the night. She didn't know if she could handle one more night, one more nightmare.

She made herself a cup of hot cocoa. She sat up until two o'clock in the morning watching late movies on television. She even tried writing letters, anything to keep her mind off the dreams, but she couldn't concentrate.

She sat on her couch, curled up in the corner and surrounded by pillows. She thought about events over the past few weeks, trying to understand what may have prompted the dreams. She hadn't been under any undue stress, at least not that she was aware of. In fact, all things seemed to be doing much better than at any other time in her life. She had just fixed up her apartment the way she wanted it. It took her awhile, stretching her paychecks, and saving a little here and there, but she finally did it. She was proud of that. She looked around the room. Everything looked great. Even the landscapes she'd painted and finally got around to getting frames for now hung on the walls. That was something she wanted to do since she'd painted them. Now they looked wonderful.

She loved her job, and her boss. Mike, and had known him for years. He'd given her a job as his assistant at his veterinary clinic over five years ago when she really needed a place to put down roots. She loved her work, but it was heartbreaking to her to see the animals suffer. She couldn't bear to see them in pain.

Her mind began to wander. She stared at the television; something in the movie reminded her...it was familiar somehow. She realized she was seeing parts of the dream again, her dream, not the movie. She reached over, turned it down, and thought to herself, ‘that's the last thing I need to think about right now...details of the dream.’

Her thoughts turned to her family, and although her mother had been ill recently, it was nothing to be overly concerned with, just a slight case of the flu. Elizabeth, or Lisa, as everyone called her, had just spent a couple days with her mom and she seemed fine now. Besides, that didn't make sense. How would her mother tie in with the dream? Her brother, Jason, was fine. She'd just talked to him on the phone a week ago and he was talking about adding another room onto his house. There was nothing stressful for her about that.

One of Lisa's girlfriends had suggested she speak to a counselor. She gave her the number of Dr. Wayne, a psychologist. But even though Lisa had spent several hours with the counselor so far, the dreams still persisted. She felt funny seeing him anyway.

It made her uneasy to think that every little thing she said to him was being psychoanalyzed. That made her nervous every time she went to his office. She would see him at least for a couple more sessions, but she didn't hold out much hope for success.

Lisa knew she had sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet, left over from a bout she had with insomnia. But she didn't want to take any of them since they made her feel hung-over the following day. She wiggled her way down the couch until she was half-sitting, half-laying, with the pillows propping up her head and shoulders. She laid there sipping her hot cocoa until she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer.

Her cup now empty, she put it on the coffee table and leaned her head back, resting it against the cushions and closed her eyes. She could barely hear the television in the background every once in a while, but it seemed so far away.

Her mind drifted between dream and reality, mixing scenes from the movie she'd seen with scenes in her head. Then the mental picture switched abruptly. She fell into a deep sleep, but very much aware of her surroundings in the dream. It seemed so real, as if she could reach out and touch it. As her eyes darted back and forth, she could smell a putrid odor. Part of her mind was trying to analyze the smell, trying to register where it might be coming from.

The dream continued. She found herself in a small, dark room. The walls were made of stone, chains coming from the walls.  No furnishings, very little light. She was familiar with this picture, and even though she knew she was dreaming, she also knew she could not stop the dream. It would go on, just as it always did, the same pattern, the same scenes. She was caught up in it, stuck in it somehow, and could not wake herself up. She knew what was coming next, and yet, as the fear rose within her, she was powerless to make the dream stop or stop the sequence of events within the dream.

As her awareness sharpened in the dream, she found herself lying on her back, her arms shackled at the wrists to chains imbedded in the wall. Her feet had shackles around them, too, snug against her ankles, the flesh was bloody from the metal cutting into it. The chains led to a metal stake firmly planted in the floor. Her body ached, and she was sickened by the smell of urine and excrement coming from underneath her as she lay in her own waste upon the filthy straw.

This was the beginning of the dream, as it always ran the same, night after night. She did not understand why she was in this room...this room with its filth and decay. All she knew was that she was there, awake, and in tremendous pain. Her clothing was torn to shreds, barely covering her at all, soiled and stiff, parts soaked wet. Blood splattered her 'robe,' or what was left of it, and she could see streaks of dried blood the length of her legs, burn marks on her body made by some unknown assailant and weapon. Her hair was cropped so short, she could see dried blood on the scalp.

The dream continued, and Lisa could see herself being taken out to another room, one more dreaded than the first. The more she screamed in protest, the more she was struck and told to be silent. The second room was larger than the first, filled with chairs, tables, and devices unfamiliar to her.

Another woman was there, laying upon a wooden table and strapped down so she could not move. The woman was screaming something, something about her child. Lisa was horrified, as she was forced to watch a man lean over the woman, taking a red hot poker from the fire, and placing it on the woman's stomach. Her flesh sizzled underneath the iron rod, melting as if it was candle wax. The woman screamed in agony and Lisa turned her head. She could not bear to watch this woman's torture.

Who were these people? Where was she? What were they going to do to her? She begged the men dragging her to please release her, to let her go, but they continued on until they came to an old wooden chair and sat her down. The chair was sturdy, but splinters rimmed the arms and back of the chair, piercing into her skin. The back of the chair rose up behind her head at least twelve inches.

Lisa watched herself in the dream as the men strapped a leather thong around her neck and tied it to the back of the chair. Another thong was used for each of her wrists and both ankles, as she was bound hand and foot to the chair.  After just being forced to watch the torture of the other woman, Lisa knew that something similar was about to happen to her. The dream ended as she watched herself faint in the chair.

Lisa jumped from the couch screaming, now wide awake, but slow to realize that she was back in her own living room, back in her own surroundings and safety. Bits and pieces of the dream flashed in her mind, haunting her. She looked at the clock. It was too late to call anyone, but she was afraid to sleep anymore. She turned on all the lights and turned the television back up. It wasn't the same as having someone there to tell her everything would be alright, but it was as close as she knew she would get at this time of night.

Questions came to mind quickly as she tried again to make sense out of the dream. She had analyzed it to death over the past few weeks, and she still did not have any answers. She was just as confused and frightened now as she had been in the beginning, if not more so.

She always fainted in the dream, never knowing what it was that the men were about to do to her. Dr. Wayne suggested that it might be her subconscious that was blocking the rest of the dream because her conscious mind wouldn't be able to deal with what she saw. All she knew was it scared the hell out of her.

The dream was always the same, as if she was reliving something long forgotten within her memory and not a dream at all. It felt too real to be just a dream.

She curled her legs up, rubbing them as if that would take away any residue of her dream. She was waiting for something. But waiting for what? Daylight? Would she be safe if she could just stay awake? She looked at the clock again. It would still be almost two hours before dawn. She stood up to go into the kitchen, forcing herself to walk on shaky legs. She made some coffee and a sandwich to help keep her awake.

Lisa felt like a small child again, afraid of the dark. Afraid of the hand creeping out from underneath her bed, waiting for her to fall asleep so it could strangle her in the dead of night.

Her greatest fear when she was little was that someone was hiding in her closet. She was convinced, even into her teen years, that someone, a man or ghost, a maniac, perhaps, would somehow be able to hide himself in there. Once asleep, he would come out into her room and kill her in her bed. Once the lights were out, she never had the courage to get back out of bed and close the closet door.

She propped up the pillows again, pulled an afghan off the back of the couch, and draped it over her. She tried to remember if anything took place that could have created those fears. Were they simply the fears every child has? Or had her own imagination just run away with her, making monsters out of ordinary men?

She could remember a time when she was thirteen years old. Neighbors up the street had asked her to babysit for the evening and right after they left the house, Tracy, another neighbor called. She'd called Lisa's house, and Lisa's mom told her where she was. The next thing Lisa knew, Tracy was knocking on the door. Lisa told her she didn't think it was wise for her to be there, but Tracy pushed right through past Lisa and went to the kitchen. She scavenged through the refrigerator and the cupboards, eating anything she could get her hands on. Lisa told her to leave and began to clean up after Tracy. 

Tracy said she needed to use the restroom first, which was down the hall, out of Lisa's sight. Without Lisa knowing about it, Tracy went into the bedroom and took some jewelry, then said goodbye and left.

The next morning, the neighbor called Lisa's mother. They had just discovered the jewelry missing and they accused Lisa of taking it, and wanted it back. But Lisa didn't know anything about the jewelry. She asked Tracy about it, but Tracy just laughed in her face and called her a 'damn fool.' Lisa tried to tell her mother, but she didn't believe her. Lisa didn't understand that, since she'd never lied before.  And she certainly had never stolen anything. Yet, they believed what they wanted to believe. Nothing she said changed what they already assumed.

After that, Lisa kept to herself. Tracy was the only one within walking distance near her house, and she had no desire to hang around her. But whenever someone accused her of something, or called her a liar, she became furious. And once Tracy moved into the neighborhood, accusations came in quite often. No matter what Lisa said to convince someone of her innocence, she'd already gained the false reputation of being a thief and a liar.

She thought of those things now as she sat on the couch, wondering if they had some possible connection, yet, she couldn't see how they could. These were old wounds she'd learned to heal over the years, not something that just started a few weeks ago as the dream had. She'd learned the lessons of trust the hard way, and now it was not easy for her to trust people. She'd been hurt way too many times in the past, people always jumping to conclusions and making judgments.

She realized how much of her life she had actually spent trying to protect herself emotionally by building up a barrier between her and her friends, her relationships. Don't let them in too close, and that way they can't hurt you. Don't confide in them, lest they turn on you and use your secret fears or thoughts as ammunition against you at some point in time for their own selfish gain.

These were some of the lessons she had learned over the years, and as she thought about it now, it made her cry. She cried for all the loneliness and pain she had managed to endure somehow, and the time wasted or lost completely because of fear. Fear that kept her rooted to the same old ruts, to the loneliness that she felt at times so deep that she wondered what the point was of being here in the first place.

Right now, all she wanted was someone to hold her, tell her it was alright, that it was only a dream. But she knew that wouldn't happen. She was alone, and there was no one she could call at this late hour without feeling as if she was imposing on them. No one could take the pain away from all the years anyway, and she knew she was crying more for that pain, than because of the dream.

The dream seemed to represent the epitome of all her fears rolled into one, and she had to face it. She knew that. But she didn't want to face it. To face the dream meant that she would have to face all that had transpired, all that she had tried so hard to suppress within her mind, and all the pain that she thought she had already dealt with.

And at this moment, that was not something she felt she had the strength to do, not emotionally or physically, and certainly not alone.

Fear again. Lisa realized she needed to trust someone, whether that was Dr. Wayne, a friend, or someone else. She needed help with this, and she knew she couldn't do it alone.

Daylight peeked through the blinds in the kitchen, illuminating the living room in a pink glow. Lisa opened her eyes and looked about. She realized she must have slipped off to sleep again, yet, this time she had slept soundly, if even for just a little while. When she looked into the mirror she gasped, as the face looking back disgusted her. Circles underneath her eyes, her face pale and drawn. She was sluggish and near collapse from exhaustion. She looked at the clock, but it was too early to call Dr. Wayne. She showered and dressed, hoping that would bring back some life into her. After she ate breakfast, she dialed Dr. Wayne's phone number.

Dr. Wayne? Lisa asked. This is Lisa Barnes.

Yes, Lisa, how are you? Dr. Wayne asked slowly. You don't sound so good. Are you okay?

Yeah...well, no, I'm not. Not really, Lisa cried. Dr. Wayne, it's the dreams again. I was up almost all night. I can't handle this, and I don't even know what it is that I'm trying to deal with here. Can you see me this morning? Please?

Lisa was begging him, crying so hard into the phone it was hard for Dr. Wayne to understand everything she was saying. He told her to come right over and he'd get her in. They hung up and Lisa grabbed a sweater and her purse and ran out the door. A minute longer of going without sleep, and they'll put me in the mental ward, she thought.

She was half-way to the doctor's office when that same thought came back to mind...put me in a mental ward! Oh, my God! What if he did something like that? What if she went there and told him every detail of the dream, and as upset as she was, could he do that? Could he just commit someone like that? She began to feel that she really was losing touch with reality.

Fear welled up within her, old accusations of stealing something she hadn't, defending her innocence, no one believing her. If she told him the complete dream, would there be anything to stop him if that was what he wanted to do? She had seen it happen to her aunt once, a long time ago when Lisa was just a little girl. Her aunt had been upset. She wasn't a danger to anyone, but they took her off and put her in a hospital. Lisa didn't even get to see her for months. Then when she did see her again, the poor woman didn't even know who Lisa was. She was drugged and mumbling to herself. Then she really DID seem disturbed.

But that was a long time ago. Maybe she really WAS ill. Lisa was too young to know her very well. But surely the laws must be different now; they have to be better than they were for her aunt. But what if? What if they weren't any different? What if the doctor thinks she’s hallucinating, or on the verge of a breakdown or something? Can he just lock her up for however long he wants to? How would she get out? They would not believe her any more now than when she was growing up!

She nearly hit the car beside her as she swung her car over to the curb. She realized she'd better reconsider what she was about to do. She could be walking herself right into a situation she might not be able to get out of! She took out her phone and called the doctor back.

Dr. Wayne? This is Lisa again, she said slowly, choosing her words carefully. I'm sorry, I'm sure I'm just blowing this whole thing out of proportion. I think I've just been working too much lately and the stress is getting to me. I'd rather wait with any further sessions, if that's okay with you.

Lisa, what's going on? he asked. I'd be happy to talk with you if you want to still come in. Maybe we can get to the source of the stress.

Dr. Wayne could hear the edge in Lisa's voice. He was worried about her, but he couldn't force her to come in or to seek help. He knew there was another reason why she was canceling her sessions with him, but he didn't know what it was.

Thank you, Dr. Wayne, but I think I'd rather wait. I'll give you a call in a few days if the dreams don't let up, but I really think it is just stress. I'll slow things down a bit, Lisa said.

She thanked him again, and then hung up. She was angry at herself for allowing old fears and this dream to make her so paranoid of everyone and everything. She knew she needed to get more control of herself and work this through, yet, she wasn't sure how she would accomplish that. Now in the light of day, the fear seemed lessened somewhat, but not enough. She drove back to her apartment and called her girlfriend, Cathy.

Cathy, hi, this is Lisa, she said. I need your help.

What's up? Cathy asked. You sound scared.

You know the dreams I was telling you about a couple of weeks ago?

Yeah.

I'm still having them, but now I'm getting to the point I can't even think straight. I haven't had hardly any sleep in days and I'm about to lose my mind!

Well, Cathy hesitated, "what happened to the counselor you were seeing? I thought you said someone was working