Thriller: Horror: Spirit Doll (Mystery Suspense Thrillers) (Haunted Paranormal Short Story)

by Stephen Kingston

  Inga paused, terrified there’d be someone behind the door or, worse, bodies that had been abandoned. Inga reminded herself she was a reporter and there’d been no cars in the parking lot. She might find something gruesome but there wasn’t anyone alive here, she hoped. Besides, nobody had been through that door in a while if the dust on the boxes was any indication.

  Inga walked into the vast room she found herself in and looked around for a light switch. She finally found it and flicked the row of switches, revealing quite a few of the bulbs had blown but she could see enough that she turned the flashlight off. Walking around she found the space had been separated with curtains on wheels, the old version of privacy walls in hospitals. Each section contained a bed with either chains or cuffs attached to it.

  Inga counted and found there were twenty beds, an area where a bank of monitors stood, and a proper office with a large Plexiglas window making up part of the wall. Inga assumed the window was to ensure observations could be made from the safety of the office. Heading in that direction Inga hoped she’d finally found what she was looking for. What else could this all be about?

  Going straight to the desk Inga opened the largest drawer and hit the jackpot. Files filled the space and Inga pulled one out at random. Opening the thick file she saw that the patient was named Maureen Grady and had been held in the facility for two years. A heroin addict the woman had no family to miss her or to ask about her, that the doctor knew of. She’d come in off the street, her labor so progressed the baby’s head was visible.

  Doctor Nelson had written that the baby had died soon after birth, the heroin withdrawal more than its tiny body could take. Doctor Nelson had performed experiments on her until kidney failure killed her. Inga pulled out another file and found a similar story. It seemed Doctor Nelson had grown wise over time, going for women that would not be missed instead of those with husbands and family. Inga went through file after file and was astonished to read that the doctor had experimented on women up until three years ago when the last victim he and Nurse Pracket had kidnapped died. At least there weren’t any files after that point.

  Inga closed the drawer and looked through the others, finding something that looked like notebooks full of the doctor’s writing. Flipping through one she found what she’d suspected, notes about experiments and reports the doctor had written. Sighing deeply Inga stood up and walked out to the beds. She noticed that one side of the room was dark and moldy smelling. Looking up she saw a pipe had burst and water was still trickling out.

  Then the last few remaining lights started to flicker and went out one by one. Inga reached for the flashlight quickly and flicked it on. She jumped back and screamed as a pale white face, the mouth and eye sockets gaping dark holes, flew at her, a shrill scream filling the air. Inga stumbled and fell, throwing her hands over her face to defend herself but nothing happened.

  Looking through her fingers Inga saw a woman standing before her, three inches off of the ground. The woman moved and pointed at one of the beds. Inga wanted to run out of the place and dismiss it all as a hallucination but the woman with light-brown hair, dressed only in a hospital gown, looked far too sweet and humble to be a danger. And Inga’s reporter instinct simply wouldn’t let her run away.

  Keeping an eye on the apparition Inga moved to the bed, looking at it closely but spotted nothing unusual about it. No hidden compartments or glowing spots, so she looked back at the ghost. The apparition appeared to sit on the bed and Inga joined her. When the woman held her hand out Inga hesitated but then took it. The woman’s hand felt like nothing, no sensation at all but Inga saw the women smile as though she had been comforted just before Inga sank into a blackness so dark she was certain she’d died and this was the blank eternity she suspected death actually was.

  Then, out of the darkness, came a pinpoint of light. Inga reached for that light, hoping to pull herself out of the darkness. As the light grew a burning sensation travelled over her body, a sensation that was not pleasant. The sensation took her breath away and no matter how hard she tried she could not scream. The pain, for it was now burning pain, simply would not let her vocal cords work.

  Inga tried to move but found her arms and legs were bound to something, something hard and unbending. As Inga’s terror grew she was finally able to see but she wished she couldn’t. Standing behind her was a man, a portly, middle-aged man and a woman that appeared to be enjoying Inga’s torture far too much. The man took something away from Inga’s head but still no matter how hard she tried she could not speak, her lips pursed but words would not come out.

  The man patted her wet head and spoke. “Now Joan, you’re fine. You’ll be all better now.”

  The world went dark again and Inga wanted to scream, she tried so hard she felt like her throat was tearing because this time the pain was in her abdomen, a tearing cutting pain that went to her very bones. A world of pain and darkness that seemed to never end. For hours Inga floated in that pain, the pain Joan had felt, before the light came back again.

  This time she was strapped down to the bed she’d sat down on earlier, the screams and moans of other patients filling her head. No matter what state Joan was in there was torment. The need to escape overwhelmed Joan, and she wanted to retreat to the world she’d created but she’d been injected with something, something to keep her awake and lucid and she could not escape. Her wall divider was moved and then Doctor Nelson was there, surgical tools in hand and Inga’s mind, Joan’s mind, fled but she was brought back with the first jab of a needle into her foot.

  “Now Joan, we need you awake for this little experiment, no running away. Now tell me what this feels like.” A sharp instrument was pushed into Joan’s body and then a terrible burning began.

  “Fire.” The first words Inga could speak since the ordeal had begun came out in Joan’s voice as the smell of burning flesh filled her nose. Then she passed out and the torment finally stopped.

  When Inga woke up the torment had stopped but she felt as though the memory of that pain would never leave her. Like a lingering tattoo that would not fade the pain was there, just under the surface of her skin but if she touched the area the pain would go away. Inga looked around and saw Joan standing over her. She’d caught the name, knew the woman’s memories as she endured the agony of only a fraction of Joan’s ordeals. She knew this woman had possibly been her mother.

  “That’s what you experienced?” Inga asked the sad looking woman.

  “That was my life. I was left here, with nobody that cared to stop them, to stop my torture. Can you stop them now? That is why you are here isn’t it?” the apparition asked.

  “I’m going to try, Joan. I’m going to try.”

  “That’s all you can do really. There are videos too, I remember the camera, if you can find the tapes. Please do what you can, there are so many of us here. We are trapped, trapped by his torture. We can’t go until he is stopped. Please help us.”

  Inga reached out to touch Joan but the woman disappeared and the night closed in around Inga. Where was her flashlight? Sitting up Inga was overwhelmed with what she’d experienced but she also wanted out of this place. She felt the phone in her back pocket and took it out putting it on flashlight mode. She made her way back to the office, took some of the notebooks out of the desk, and slowly climbed her way out of the hospital. She needed out of this place, now.

  Later that evening, back in her hotel and safely tucked into bed after a very hot shower and a late meal, Inga started going through the notebooks. Doctor Nelson had been a very busy man, it seemed. Anne, Joan, and Meg had been his first victims. He’d spent some time settling into the hospital, rising in the ranks and supervising his office, before he’d started looking for space for his experiments. He’d found the space in the sublevels and started to quietly acquisition equipment to stock it with, even spending some of the proceeds of his illicit child-selling to build the office with. By this time he was the only OB-GYN at the hospital and therefore head of th
at department.

  Doctor Nelson had been allowed to do as he pleased, as long as it brought no bad publicity to the hospital and he’d run with the lead. Joan had been his first and favorite victim in the facility but slowly, over the years, he’d brought in the stray women that stopped in or those that had no family to ask questions. Then he’d started using some of his findings from his experiments on patients that came to his office.

  Doctor Nelson appointed himself Louisa Falls’ judge and jury over the reproduction in the women of Louisa Falls. Because Doctor Nelson was so very charming and generous with his patients questions were not raised about the death rates of new-borns or the high rate of miscarriages found amongst the poor and people of color within the area.

  Doctor Nelson was very careful to cover his tracks when it came to the children he sold. Birth certificates were never issued for those that “died”, nor were death certificates unless one was asked for, and no more mention of the children was made in his records. A careful change of birthdates, for the children he sold, also ensured confusion because the children could not be matched to mothers through their birthdates.

  Doctor Nelson induced miscarriages when he felt a woman would not be able to care for her children without public funds but sometimes, when he needed a cash infusion, he’d let the woman carry to term only to later sell the baby, informing the mother the child had died. In the late 1990s, when the internet became more readily available the doctor slowed down on his side business. Only the wealthiest customers, those that could pay the necessary fees to ensure the tracks were covered, were able to buy their newly born children.

  Others, those Doctor Nelson deemed the lowest in life such as the drug addicts, were either sterilized and sent on their way if they had families, or they disappeared if they did not. Only the select few were allowed to have children in Louisa Falls but not a soul questioned it. The birth rate dropped so much the county even shut down the elementary school and middle school, consolidating them with the high school when the economy started to fail to save funds.

  The signs were there, Inga saw, but nobody ever questioned it. Perhaps they thought it was just the effects of birth control or people moving away. Inga looked up as she thought about the question, noticing that the sun was starting to come up. She was preparing to go to bed when another thought occurred to her. She’d not seen a death date for Anne.

  Thinking about her first day in town, when she’d seen the lonely funeral from her hotel room and walked over to the cemetery, curios about the burial, Inga realized she’d had her first clue that day. The funeral had been for a woman named Kate Owens. Inga had no idea who she was, she hadn’t read that name anywhere yet so she dragged her laptop out again, hoping to find information about Anne.

  Anne’s name didn’t return any results for the woman she was looking for so she started looking for Meg. Inga found Meg’s obituary in an online newspaper but it revealed no information about Anne. Inga wondered if this meant Anne was still in town.

  Joan was certainly dead, though her death, actual death had never been officially recorded because the truth had not been reported, but Doctor Nelson himself had written in his notes about Joan’s death. Then there was the matter of her ghost, but Inga‘s mind shied away from that experience, putting the whole thing off to an overactive imagination. Inga knew what she had experienced but still, her mind would not let her believe any of it had actually happened. Inga was just too logical for that.

  Meg’s obituary was online, so Inga knew she’d only passed away the month before. Where was Anne? Was she still alive? Digging through her laptop’s picture file she found Anne’s section and wrote down the address. With any luck she was still living at that address. Knowing she’d never sleep now Inga put her clothes back on and headed over to the diner close to her hotel. She needed a big breakfast and a strong coffee to keep going. She had a lot to do today.

  “The old Rasnake place?” The middle-aged waitress with purple and black hair asked Inga as she refilled Inga’s coffee cup. “You go down this road for about four miles then turn off to the first dirt road on the right. It’s up that hill. But it’s been a long time since anyone’s been up there, I reckon. Is there anyone still living up there?”

  “I don’t know, but I’d like to find out.” Inga said, pouring sugar and cream into the strong black brew. “If you’ll bring me my bill I’ll finish this and head out.”

  “I’ll be right back, honey, take your time. Ain’t no rush in Louisa Falls, nothing ever happens worth rushing to anyways.” The woman patted her hair and winked at Inga before walking away.

  Inga sipped the coffee quietly; her third cup, and then handed over some money as the waitress came back. By the time the woman came back Inga had finished the coffee and waived away her change, letting the woman keep it as a tip. Heading out to her car Inga looked down the road and wondered if she was about to meet her mother. Stranger things had happened to her lately, after all.

  The drive to the turn-off didn’t take long and Inga worried about her car as she drove up the dirt track. The road was full of mudholes and ruts but Inga eventually made it to a very old, much worn log cabin set up against a hill. An old car was sitting in the driveway, unlikely to move with four flat tires and layers of mud and dust on it. Inga could see the shutters that had once adorned the cabin were now barely hanging on and the roof sagged too much for her liking. But there was obviously power because a light was on in the house and Inga could hear a television playing as she got out of the car.

  Walking up to the door Inga hesitated. What if this was her mother? And what about the reports about drugs? What if the woman was so drugged up she couldn’t speak. It was a chance she was going to have to take. Inga raised her hand once more but before she could knock the door opened.

  A tiny, thin elderly woman, her face lined and wrinkled so much her mouth was just a slash and her eyes were barely recognizable squints greeted Inga. The woman was dressed in a thin cotton gown but had an old crocheted afghan around her shoulders to keep her warm. The woman looked to be in her 80s, far older than Anne should be.

  “Who are you?” The woman finally asked, staring at Inga. “You my Bridget?”

  Inga was confused, thinking Bridget might be the woman’s granddaughter or something, and sighed in disappointment. “My name is Inga. I’m sorry to have bothered you. I was looking for a woman named Anne Rasnake, do you know where I might find her?”

  “I’m Anne Rasnake. You my Bridget?” The woman’s words were slurred and Inga could see that she had dentures that didn’t quite fit.

  “No, ma’am, my name is Inga. Inga Parr. I’d like to talk with you if that’s alright?” Inga asked, her nerves now a wreck.

  “Why, that’d be fine, but I don’t know what you want to talk to me for. I’m just an old woman up here on her own. Come in if that’s what you want to do.” The old woman stepped out of the doorway and moved into the house.

  The woman was surprisingly lucid and Inga felt that she might get somewhere with her. But how to broach the subject?

  “Thank you Ms. Rasnake. I’m a reporter for a news channel in Charlotte. I’d like to ask you a few questions if that’s alright with you.” Inga started, falling back on her professionalism to save the day.

  “That’s fine with me but I don’t know what you want to talk to me about. Have a seat child. I used to live in Charlotte once. A grand place it was.” The woman said as she sat down. Obviously time, and her treatment, had not been kind to her. Inga had assumed the woman was much older than she was.

  “Well, I’m investigating the disappearance of several children in the area. I’ve been informed that several women were told their children died over the years but the children were actually sold to wealthy couples that couldn’t have their own children.” Inga went boldly stepping into the fray, figuring it was the best approach.

  “I might know a thing or two about that. My brain’s kind of fuzzy but since Doctor Nelson had that stroke and
stopped caring for me it isn’t near as bad as it used to be. I can think again and look after myself at least.” Anne told the young woman. “So you’re not my Bridget huh? I keep waiting, hoping one day she’ll come home to me. Girl has to be curious, if she knows about me.”

  “What do you mean?” Inga led Anne into answering further.

  “My daughter Doctor Nelson stole from me 38 years ago. My baby. I went through Hell because of that man but now I have a new doctor finally. I’m off all that old dope that man force-fed me for so long. I’m too worn out to go looking myself so I’ve been waiting. Hoping she’ll show up.”

  Inga thought about what Anne had said, Doctor Nelson had experienced a stroke. “Is Doctor Nelson still alive?”

  For all Inga knew the man could be dead now and she’d made a rookie mistake by never asking or researching it.

  “Sure he is, over there in his mansion on the hill. A mansion he paid for with stolen babies. Him and that evil witch of his think I was too much of a vegetable to catch everything they said around me but I know what happened to me and Joan and Meg. They stole our babies and made it so we couldn’t have anymore. And what they did to poor Joan I really don’t know but she disappeared and it was their doing!” Inga ended her speech with a stamped foot.

  “Did you ever see your child, Ms. Rasnake? Could you identify her?” Inga asked, leaning towards the older woman.

  “For all I know you could be her, Miss. I didn’t even get to tell my baby goodbye. Doctor Nelson insisted she died but I know better. My baby was strong, she didn’t die. You want some breakfast? I’m awfully hungry.” Anne said, getting up and going into the other part of the room considered the kitchen.

  “My own Momma helped to sell my baby. You see these dishes here? This is what my Momma bought with the money she traded for my baby. I keep ‘em to remind me of what I lost.” Anne’s stooped shoulders, tiny and delicate, seemed to stoop a little further and Inga heard a dry sound come from the woman, a sound of pain. “All I wanted was to love my child, to give her the love I’d never had and that I’d never been allowed to show. That’s all I wanted but that was too good of a life for me. I just don’t understand it. I really don’t.”