Red Dreams Of Ravenswood

Imagine an island that was a perfect place to take that long deserved vacation. Clean beaches, a boardwalk that stretches for two miles, charter fishing, horseback riding, entertainment rides for the young and old, almost everything you would want for the perfect vacation. Imagine an island with three unique towns with their own historical flavor and a large lake where you can go skiing, fishing, or camp if you prefer to just sleep under the star-filled skies. In Red Dreams, the first in a series, Michael Ham takes you to such a place, but instead of warm late spring days, you will venture into a journey of darkness. The story begins with Peggy, who is being held captive by a church that has a completely twisted view on their understanding of God. She escapes with four others, and agents for the church quickly track them down, except for Peggy. One attempt after another, they try to either capture her or kill her until finally, they succeed. But she isn't dead. Now in the hospital, she must make a decision. Should she return to Ravenswood or should she run? These are just the stepping stones in Red Dreams. There are quite a few people you will read about, and as for a few of them, you will never hear of them again. There is a lot to this story and the path to understand it all will take time.

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Red Dreams of RavenswoodBy Michael HamAuthorHouseCopyright © 2011 Michael HamAll right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4634-3171-6Chapter OneMorning 1:15 to 1:26 Run Peggy Run Taking six hundred thousand dollars her journey started. * * * No matter how hard she tried, for the past nine days, Peggy couldn't get over the sound of screaming that echoed in the early hours of the night. Not long after midnight, with the screaming long suppressed by sleep, sometimes in the gloomy, oppressive darkness in the other cells, she could still hear a few of them weeping, pain became their only companion in this dark hell. She, too, had spent her first few days here crying into the night, but not anymore. It was a complete useless waste of energy. Not knowing where she was or why they had taken her. At least she wasn't alone. In her cell there were four others, men, who shared the same floor space with her since there weren't any beds on which to sit or sleep. They too were tortured in some fashion, examined and then marked. On her wrist, she bore the mark of two crooked lines; she didn't know what it meant. All that she knew was that her time in that other room—the room in which those men dressed in robes probed her in the most painful ways possible—was over. In time she would make one last trip into another place within the confines of this hell where her time on Earth would come to a dreadful end; but not just yet. Hardly any light made its way into the cell when they dimmed the lights in the passageway at night, and it wasn't hard to imagine the ghosts of those who last occupied this space sitting beside her. What secrets did they have to share if any, or were they forever lost in the misery that ended their lives? Peggy did not want to die, not here in this place especially. Sleeping nearby were the four men she did not know nine days ago. The one closest to her was Jesse. Level-headed and kind, he provided the support, which she needed. If it weren't for him, by now she would have gone insane simply out of fear. Rex was the tallest and strongest of the four. He was ex-military, and because of his background, Peggy had anticipated that he would be the one who could come up with a solution on how to escape, but so far, he had not mention it or even conceived a plan. Maybe it was because of Gordon, the only one in the group who had suffered the worse in his time in that other room. He was close to death. If it weren't for Rex sharing his ration of food and water, maybe by now he would have died. Leonard was fat, had a mean disposition, complained often, and for the first few days, sobbed relentlessly. Peggy had a feeling that either on his first day or second, someone had raped him; somehow she could see it in his eyes. She had the same thing happen to her, not once but five times. These were the four men that she shared some of her secrets with and depended on for support—but mostly Jesse. But what she really wanted was a way out of here, and so far, even though they had talked about it, not one of them provided her some kind of assurance that escape was possible. It was as if they had given up all hope of ever seeing freedom again. Peggy, however, wasn't about to give up. Attractive and smart, shy at times but strong enough to stand her ground, she was confident but not outgoing. Maybe to a degree she was afraid of making a stand on what she believed was right and wrong. But she did have her moments. And one of those moments, the one that started this whole chaotic chain of events, began three months ago. That was when she discovered that her boss was accepting bribe money from developers who wanted to build on government land. She could have ignored it, but instead she called the FBI and reported it. The FBI responded quickly and insisted that she continue her job and report back to them every week, and she did. But somehow, her boss, Congressman Harris, found out, and instead of confronting her, he contacted one of the developers. In response, the developer sent some men to her house and reeducated her about her place on the food chain. She was just a worker bee. After trashing her house and scaring the hell out of her, they warned her not to testify. That was a month ago. The storm was just beginning. She could have done exactly what she was told and had the FBI on her back, but she stayed her course and contacted the FBI about the threat they made. Now she was unable to work. She did, however, made one last trip back to her office to clear out her desk as the congressman was momentary away a few offices down the hall. While placing her things in a box, reflecting on how her life was changing, she went into the congressman's office with the intention of leaving him a note: "I'm sorry," bullshit like that. As she was leaving, she noticed that the closet door was open and inside were two travel bags. The bastard, she first thought, is going to run away. She peeked inside one of the bags and discovered that they weren't full of clothes but instead cash, both of them totaling, she later counted, six hundred thousand dollars. A turning point. Should I keep it or turn it over to the FBI? Life isn't easy when you become a whistle blower. It follows you wherever you go. She was already out of a job, and who knew where or when she would find another one. Looking at all of that money, it beckoned her to take it, and so she did. That was just two weeks ago. Was this why she was here? She had asked herself that question several times, but now after what she had been through—this place, those people had nothing to do with her boss or those developers. They were a completely different breed of wicked. The answers eluded her. For now ... sleep. Chapter TwoMorning 3:30 to 4:02 Looking into the Eyes of Darkness He could feel it, ashes of suffering, misery and death just a heartbeat thumping in the salty darkness. He answered, "The reaper of souls is coming." 'In the darkness there is a fire as bright as the sun and as cold as winter's grip. In that darkness, there are whispers of insanity, a language of reasoning. And in that darkness, I have seen reflections, the faces of many in that cold dark place where both good and evil toil forever; and I have seen my own there looking not at me but from behind with a fiery blade at my throat.' Inscribed on his tombstone, John O'Neal, 1862 One boat leaves; the other prepares. One man sees the face of darkness; one is consumed by it. * * * One The lights of Ravenswood were quickly fading as the fishing vessel Savannah sailed into the darkness with eight men on board. The three week cruise was just beginning. With the captain manning the wheelhouse and the crew down below there wasn't much to do for the next eight hours but wait until it was time to drop the nets for a payday of fish. The vast ocean bounty wasn't as it had been before; now it took time and luck. The early morning darkness had become mysterious. Two Just as the Savannah shoved off, the crew of the fishing vessel October Dawn was preparing to set sail. The captain, a tough salty man, walked up to his men on deck and said, "It's getting close to four in the morning. Get the rest of the gear stowed away." He looked at his watch. "We shove off in ten minutes." They nodded. Paying no mind to what the captain said, he turned away from the others, walked towards the bow, and looked out over the water to the horizon. The stars glittered above; the moon was slowly sinking into the dark waters; the salt air whispered as gentle waves below lapped along the bow. He breathed deeply. He loved the smell of the sea at this time of the morning. The deck lights behind him made the darkness in front of him even darker. The sea was his life, but in that darkness he could sense that death beckoned. Three Below decks on the Savannah, Samuel was with the other men sipping on coffee trying to pass the time. They were just eight minutes out. There were no new faces on this trip which made the task ahead easier. Everyone knew their place. Samuel took another sip of his coffee, black and strong, and listened to the men talk and joke among themselves. And then suddenly the noise from the engine room subsided as the captain pulled back the throttle. From in the wheelhouse, the captain hollered, "Dead man in the water." The crew quickly scrambled to the deck. Samuel followed and what he saw was impossible to conceive. The early morning darkness had changed into a dark red sky. The wind was unusually warm and fowl, as if it were filled with rotting flesh. Someone said, "Where is it?" The captain came out of the wheelhouse and pointed. "Just off the port bow." The men moved towards the bow; one of them grabbed a grappling hook. As three men worked on getting the man out of the water, Samuel stood beside the others watching. The captain returned to the wheelhouse to call the coastguard, but the radio wouldn't work. With some effort, they managed to get the bloated corpse aboard. By then the captain was climbing down from the wheelhouse. The dead man let out a gush of salty water and his eyes opened. Four Another deckhand strolled up to him. He said, "What's you lookin' at?" He answered, "The sea." Looking towards the sky, he asked, "What about it? Think weather is coming in?" He could feel it: ashes of suffering, misery and death—just a heartbeat thumping in the salty darkness. He answered, "The reaper of souls is coming." "What?" "A curse," he said. "Beware of He that knocks, for I am the one of suffering and I shall rip out your heart a thousand times just to dance in the joy of hearing your screams." "Hey man, you been drinking? The captain isn't goin' to like that." Keeping his eyes fixed into the darkness he said, "There is something evil I fear coming." "Yeah, the captain's boot is going up in your ass if you don't get to work. Grab that bow line." He took out his knife, looked at the luminous metal, and then looked back out towards the sea. Something cold whispered to him. His weathered face tightened. "God forgive me." Without hesitation, he rammed the knife into his heart. Five "I think he is alive." The captain pushed his way through his men and stood beside the dead man. He said, "Check for a pulse." Samuel was wondering why nobody took noticed of the red sky. Maybe it was because of the dead man now on deck. "Will is he alive or not?" "No pulse, captain." His hands moved clenching the air and slowly he gasped attempting to breathe. The man that was next to him, the one that checked his pulse, jumped back. Then he stood, his eyes as dark as coal, skin pale, dead flesh—but there he stood. "I thought you told me he was dead," The captain said to the man and then to the one they fished out of the water, "What is your name, mister?" Samuel said, "Captain, this isn't right. We best turn around." The captain looked at Samuel. Knowing how superstitious he was, he said, "What you want me to do, chuck him back out into the water?" "We should. This is a bad omen." "Ridiculous." The captain was no more than an arm's length from the man. Samuel maintained a safe distance. He looked towards the man again and asked for a second time, "What is your name, mister?" Then he spoke. "Death has welcomed you!" As fear of this reality shot through his body, Samuel wanted to run but couldn't. He did not even possess the ability to voice a word and express the horror that was crucifying his mind. Nobody took noticed of the eerie red sky above expect for Samuel, and neither the captain nor the crew noticed that part of the man's right leg was missing. But there he stood, poised on one good leg, his right leg missing at the knee, strings of sea grass tangle down from the stub, and piercing dark dead eyes. The man began to bleed from the severed part of his right leg, and his stomach swelled well beyond its normal size. "What did you say?" Finally, the stomach exploded with a heavy popping sound and cords of intestine spewed out to rest at the captain's feet. Insects appeared from the bloody pile of the man's remains and they darted off towards the crew. With great speed they raced up the legs of each of the men on deck and enter through their ears, carving a huge hole as the bored deep into their skulls. In a massive state of panic, the crew began to run back and forth screaming. And one by one, they exploded into a pile of flesh. The deck became a river of blood with its currents carrying eyes, bits of flesh, and brain matter. Samuel leaped into the water, behind him he could hear the last of the men screaming. The captain was the last to go. His enormous frame of three hundred pounds burst into a cloud of flesh and blood, except for his head. His large stone-shaped head was spared from damage for a purpose. Even though he was dead, his intense eyes were open to witness the mess that remained after the slaughter of his crew. With his usual loud voice he cried out, "Death has welcomed you, you son of a bitch! Can you feel its loving embrace! Can you see its beauty?" In horror Samuel tried to swim as far away from the boat as he could, but then the birds appeared. Some feasted on the remains and the rest began pecking at his head-pecking, scratching, and clawing into his skull and into his brain. Samuel's world turned into a milky blackness that stirred all around him. In the darkness there were others he knew and with open arms they welcomed to the great grisly feast. Chapter ThreeMorning 4:00 to 4:46 One The sound of a door opening, the clinging of keys, soft-sole shoes on concrete ... the familiar noise from a guard making his rounds. Like clockwork, every hour a guard would pass through and Peggy knew, as she rose from the floor, it was four in the morning. While the others were asleep, Peggy stood on sore legs from lying on the hard concrete floor, and walked over toward the door. Though she did not know his name, she had seen him a few times, sometimes on guard duty and in the hall near the room where those other men examined her. The cells did not have steel bars but were constructed of thick concrete walls with one steel door that had a four inch by eight inch opening near the middle so that guards could look inside and pass food to prisoners. She kneeled and as he was about to walk past her cell she said in a soft hushed voice, "Hey." He wasn't a security guard but a collector, stuck again on night watch duty. He knew, however, as a rule, guards could not interact with prisoners. Stopping, he panned his flashlight beam through the small opening in the door and onto her face. "I can't sleep" she said, "I was hoping we can talk." Call it inspiration, a dash of hope, a teaspoon of faith. Peggy had a plan. Like a stone, he did not move or talk. "You know it's been a while since I was with a man. And I never have seen a man as strong as you are. Gosh I wish you would come inside my cell and talk to me at least." He knew the rules and the punishment that followed for breaking them, but looking into her brown eyes aglow from the light of his flashlight, her curly shoulder-length black hair; Alice once spoke to him like this, soft and inviting. With authority, he said, "Step back from the door." She did. Using the key, he unlocked the door. The tumblers clanked as they turned, and the door wailed as it opened. Because the cell had no source of light, he used his flashlight to make sure the men inside were asleep before venturing any further. And they were, so he thought. Peggy moved to the back of the cell near the toilet. During her second day in this hell, some bishops, as they called themselves, had taken her jeans and underwear while they examined her for special marks. This is how they justified their perversion. For five days straight, from anywhere from three to four hours, they probed and tortured her, twice they raped her, trying to, as they pointed out, determine her sins. (Continues...) Excerpted from Red Dreams of Ravenswoodby Michael Ham Copyright © 2011 by Michael Ham. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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