Welcome to my Nightmares

By Mark Maynard and Van Randall

Do you like stories about demons? How about vampires, or ghosts and monsters? What about demons of the mind? If so, you may like my book. Five stories of ghosts, monsters and demons.

The soul of fear. Juniper Falls, Maine. It's one of those small seaside towns where everyone knows everyone and nothing ever happens. Until now. People start dying from unexplainable causes.

The Death of Spruce grove. A small landlocked railroad owned community in the eastern mountains of West Virginia. Other than by horseback and walking, the train is the only way to reach the town. A stranger arrives in town one night and people start dying.

The creature of wolf back ridge. A small Canadian village is plagued with disappearances.

Pine Ridge, have you ever wanted to spend the night with a ghost?

The Dream? Have you ever wondered if dreams are real? Or that the soul wanders at night while you are sleeping?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark Maynard
• Release date: Apr 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224188116

Book preview

1

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What is it about small towns? Is it the fact that everybody seems to know everyone else? Maybe it’s the clean air. And maybe it is the chance to find the peace that small towns offer. Well, whatever it is, most of the people who live in them never want to leave. And there are many people in the big cities who want nothing more than to get away from the hustle and bustle, and the noise of the big city. At least for a little while. But then again, maybe some small towns are not as peaceful as they seem.

George Tanner had been out in the hills of Maine for the last three weeks, in an area the Wabanaki people used to call the misty mounds. George is a rockhound, and for 30 years he had been coming into these hills looking for gemstones, such as Quartz, Amethyst, Beryl, and Tourmaline, that he would make into rings and necklaces and brooches and other types of jewelry, that he would sell on his online store. Wanda Runningdeer also sells them in her New Age store in town, and they split the money from the sales.

That wasn't all. George has traveled to Arkansas and dug for diamonds. And in North Carolina, he has dug for rubies and sapphires. He has even gone as far as Arizona looking for turquoise. But in the end, it did not matter how far he traveled, or where he went, he always ended up coming back home to Juniper Falls in the end.

Normally, George does his rockhounding on Mount Apatite in the town of Auburn, or mineral mines in Oxford county. And a dozen other places around the state. But today, after months of sending email after email to the property owner, they granted him permission to rockhound on private property. The owner of the property, Oliver Derriks, had become interested in what minerals might be on his land.

But he was reluctant to spend millions of dollars to tear the mountain side up. Only to discover that there was nothing there. So, he decided the best course of action was to allow a professional rock hound to check it out for him.

George crawled out of his small one-man tent and zipped up his jacket as he looked around. The thick frost had covered all the trees, and George could see this even in the dim light of morning. It was always like this here in Maine in October. Once the sun comes out from behind the mountains, all of this frost is going to melt, and everything is going to get wet and muddy.

He picked up his water jug and poured it into his coffee pot. The water was half frozen and full of slush. It must have been colder last night than I thought. Said George. Setting the water jug down, he wiped the frost off his camp chair, he sat down and lit his stove. He needed to thaw the water out a bit before he could add the coffee grounds.

This time of year is not the ideal time of year to go rock hounding But Oliver Derriks gave him a choice, investigate his property for valuable minerals now, or he would get someone else to do it, end of story!

As the water boiled, George lifted the lid on the coffee pot and poured in half a cup of coffee grounds. He would wait until he came back to camp before he ate. He always felt sluggish after eating in the morning. While his coffee was heating, George grabbed his pack to make sure that he had everything he needed for the day.

1. Folding Shovel

2. Quarter inch classifier

3. Small hand held hoe with prongs

4. Rock Hammer

5. Collection pouch

6. Canteen

‘That’s everything,’ George said to himself as he zipped the pack up and set it aside to have a cup of coffee.

The sun was up, and as predicted, the melting frost had made everything a wet mess. George stopped from time to time to examine several places that look like washouts. He found several tiny pieces of clear quartz and a piece of mica. All this told George that they had come from some place higher in the hills.

He moved off the game trail he had been following and walked through the trees toward what looked like a small natural cliff. A strange icy feeling hit George as he stepped clear of the trees. He looked up at the cliff in front of him. It almost looked dead. The area in front of him was almost bare of all vegetation. And before him was a low mound of dirt with a dead oak tree and a mass of dead brush sitting dead center of it.

George smiled. This would be the perfect place to prospect. ‘I might even move my camp up here,’ he thought as he took off his pack. He stood there for a moment, catching his breath and looking around, and decided the best place for him to start would be under the dead tree. The roots hold on to and keep all kinds of minerals.

He put his work gloves on and took out his small folding shovel and started digging. Almost immediately, he started finding fragments of mica and quartz, as well as amethyst. These small pieces were indicators, but he knew Derriks wanted something more substantial.

After a couple of hours, George decided it was time to move to another spot. Grabbing his pack, he walked up the small rise next to the dead oak and stared. Sitting in a pile of rocks against the cliff sat a chunk of rose-colored quartz about the size of a grapefruit.

George dropped his pack and stumbled across the rocky ground until he reached the pile of stones containing the quartz. Using his hands, he pulled at the larger stones around the crystal until it came loose. Grasping it with both hands, he pulled it as hard as he could, almost falling backwards as it came free. It was as if he pulled the cork on a bottle of champagne as a blast of icy air rushed out of the hole where the crystal had sat.

His prize, almost forgotten as he stared into the black hole in the center of the rock pile. A cave? Wondered George as he walked over to his pack and set the quartz down before he took out a small flashlight and walked back to the hole and looked inside. His eyes widened as he gasped. The walls of the cave beyond the small hole were covered in crystals of all sizes and colors.

George pulled at the rocks covering the cave entrance and stopped when he heard a strange clicking noise. A slight chill settled on his shoulders as he looked around. Seeing nothing, he went back to work when he heard the sound again. This time. It sounded closer.

He dropped the stone he was holding and picked up his flashlight and shined it into the cave. His face drained of all color as hundreds of large, hairy spiders poured out of the small hole. The old man screamed and slapped at the creatures as they swarmed up his arms and legs and into his clothing.

George dropped to the ground, thrashing, and rolled around, slapping at the spiders as he felt their sharp pinchers sink into his skin, filling his body with their burning venom, and tearing out pieces of flesh. His lungs burned, and he screamed once more than they burrowed into his flesh. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his body stiffened and then a moment later, his body went lax. If anyone had witnessed George thrashing and rolling on the ground, they would have thought the old man was having a seizure. As what looked like small tendrils of white steam rose from his body.

2

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Ray Jensen was driving home after a long day at work unloading trucks and almost a dozen different disasters. It was always a long day when you were training new people with no experience.

Ray yawned as he turned onto the old dirt road he used as a shortcut. He had only gone about a mile when a loud popping noise caused Ray to cuss as he came to a stop. Ray sat in his car for a moment before he put it in park and stepped out of the car. He opened the truck and pulled out a flashlight. He turned it on and looked at the tire. Some idiot had dropped a board full of nails on the road and Ray just was the one person to come along and run over it.

Ray got the jack out of the truck and a board to set it on and the four ways to take the lug nuts off. After they were loose, he put the jack under the car and jacked it up. He stopped when he noticed a white smokey tendril inching its way over the hood of the car.

He picked up his flashlight and shined it onto the hood, and before he could move, the tendrils were all around him. Ray's eyes bulged from their sockets and his mouth opened in a soundless scream as he threw his flashlight into the mist and raced through the trees of the dark forest. Low hanging limbs and brush ripped at his tattered clothing and the skin beneath. His ashen face was drenched with sweat. His eyes were wide with fear. Ray’s breath came in painful gasps. Yet he did not dare to stop.

He burst through the brush onto a road. Two cars speeding down the road, just missing him as he ran down the center line.

The second car screeched to a halt on the damp road. The driver’s door opened and a big man stepped out and took a few steps toward Ray. What the hell, man? Are you out of your mind or something? asked the big man.

Ray ran forward and grabbed him by the front of his jacket. You gotta help me, please! begged Ray. What’s wrong? Asked the big man, concerned. They’re after me! Ray yelled as he looked over his shoulder. Who? Who’s after you? He asked, looking down the road and seeing no one.

Snakes! Hundreds of them! Ray yelled in his face. Can’t you see them? They’re right behind me! He said, letting go of his jacket with one hand and pointed down the road. The man stopped looking at the road and looked down at Ray. The look of concern on his face was replaced by anger and irritation.

Alright crackhead! Said the big man, prying Ray’s other hand off his jacket, and pushed him hard enough for Ray to stumble and fall onto the road. Go somewhere else and sleep it off! The big man said as he got back into his car.

Ray started to scream and thrash around on the road behind him. He screamed and begged for him to get them off of him. He stopped with one leg in the car and glanced back at Ray. Seconds later; the screams stopped as his body went stiff. And with a strong shudder, his body went limp, and he lay still.

The big man stood there for a moment, staring down at Ray, unsure of what had just happened. Hey! He shouted. Hey, Mister, are you alright? When Ray didn’t respond, he took a few cautious steps forward. He recoiled when he realized Ray was dead.

In less than 30 minutes, the police and an ambulance were on site. Several people had gotten out of their cars and walked up to the police line, curious about what happened. The big man, named Dick Morton, had given his statement and could leave. As the ambulance pulled away, it illuminated a sign that said.

Welcome to Juniper Falls, Maine.

A wonderful place to live!

POP: 3052

Yes, Juniper Falls is a beautiful place to live. So named because of the large number of Juniper Falls trees that grew in the area. It sits on the coast 80 miles south of Bangor. And like most coastal towns in Maine, one of its chief exports was Lobster. As well as the old paper mill on Boulder hill. There was also a large variety of thrift and antique stores that catered to the tourists during the summer.

It is a quiet place, except for the Rowdy C. It was called the Rowdy Cowboy, but the (owboy) was ripped off during hurricane season one year, and the owner Bob Driskoll, decided it was just cheaper to leave it that way instead of having it replaced. Frankly, the bar saw more business from the locals in winter than it did during the summer tourist season, except for most Friday and Saturday nights, of course.

They even had their own resident New Age Shop. Owned and operated by one Wanda Runningdeer, a self proclaimed witch. She even had a massive black Maine Coon cat named Dante that runs around the store during the day. Most people in town believed it was just an act for the tourists and paid her no mind.

It’s October and all the trees had donned their fall colors. And soon enough the rains will come, followed by the snow. Already it was cold enough for coats, gloves, and boots, and all the children were getting excited for Halloween.

It is also the time of year for Miss, better than thou, Gerta Hoffman, to start her yearly harassment of Wanda Runningdeer. It was a blustery morning, and Wanda was not expecting much business today. Not that she had a lot of business this time of year, anyway.

Wanda was in the back of her shop putting on water for a cup of tea when she heard the bell on the front door. She put on a smile and walked through the curtain that separated the shop from her private quarters in the back. Good mor... Oh, hello Miss Hoffman. What can I do for you this morning? ‘As if I didn’t already know.’ Thought Wanda.

"I just stopped in to see if you had come to