Part 1: Raven Ridge - A missing person
Based on a true story of a missing person
What is the purpose of life?
”To be killed and to never see the death of your killer.”
This was the answer to the question he had when he crossed over.
He walked through the walls of the dream weavers lodge, as if he was made of subatomic particles, as though he was wave-like and could slip through the spaces between atoms in the wall so that he would end up on the other side in Ravens Ridge.
Then his body materialised. The air now moved from high pressure to low pressure areas in the atmosphere, and his hat flew onto the streets of a town, of a people that lived in peace away from the city life that was ever evolving but whose minds were far from the realm of the dead.
The lodge wasn’t where he stayed, but traveling from afar, who knew where you would end up when coming through the portal, from the room of souls in waiting?
He shouldn’t be here, not even under the authority of a raven. What they are about to do is virulent.
The lodge stood across a narrow road in a small town, the name was arched on cream painted walls and a pigeon flew on top of the light pole that stood next to it, wondering where to turn to for its next meal.
Chaim had a hapless life before he died, lies and gossip between friends led to his drink being spiked with GHB. He had never been into parties, but just this once he went out to meet new people, a suggestion made by his mother, a memory that still brought him pain, and he wondered if she ever blamed herself. She shouldn’t, it wasn’t her fault.
He came back from the toilets ready to continue the night with his glass of whiskey, its colour a deep nut-like brown, he didn’t realise it was topped up, he didn't realise it was spiked. He fell backwards, bringing the glass and the liquor down with him.
But before they could get him to the hospital, he was gone. His spirit floated to the ceiling of the club and was spotted on the CCTV footage before settling in a nearby hospital. It was like there was something greedy in the drink, in the air, ready to take him beyond and beyond.
A/N Thank you so much for reading, this is part 1, part 2 is down below
About the Creator
Caitlin Charlton
Writer first. Close reader and self‑taught critic shaping eloquence.
A survivor reclaiming her territory.
I write dark fiction and poetry through symbol, shadow, and fracture.
Always sharpening the craft. ✏️🔥👠
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