Two images haunted my every thought and dream. The first was that hideous drawing of the eye, the circle, and the demons. The second was a place that was foreign to me, a quaint little village by the name of Harkenton, Maine.

My most recent dream had introduced me to Harkenton and its gloomy, nautical environment. The only sound audible was heavy pitter patter, the sound of thunderous rain and storming. Occasionally, a violent clash would ring out into my ears, the distinct sound of thunder. It was quite a dreary place, nowhere that anyone would actively want to seek out. The depressing colors of a murky green and brown appeared all over, on the cottages and roads, as well as the beeping automobiles sputtering down the streets. Harkenton was next to a roaring sea, with a waving horizon and the smell of dead fish. Several fishing boats dared to find their daily lunches by venturing out into this cold, unknowable scape of murky ocean. And at the center of the town was an ancient wooden sign, with the words, 'Welcome to Harkenton, Maine' in white painted letters, though a few were covered by moss.

The only question now was why my subconscious was trying to tell me about this random village I had never heard of. Perhaps it had something to do with the drawing, or Harlan's eventual insanity. Of course, that would be preposterous, Harlan despised the smell of fish and small villages. But I knew there was something strange, and this odd town in Maine might put my mind at rest. So, I went to my atlas of the United States, flipping to Maine. I scoured the coast for any sign of Harkenton, yet it was missing. "Must be an old atlas," I muttered, looking up 'Harkenton, Maine'. However, despite the other options that popped up, I found no trace of this village. I scorned myself for being so stupid to actually think this place existed, so I rested once more.

However, every dream I had related to this mystery town. Once, I was on an airplane trip, when the alarms turned a deep crimson and oxygen masks dropped from above. The plane crashed in Harkenton, Maine, staying true to the pattern.Those fourteen words and that comma had ingrained themselves into my mind, as the ability to talk and walk had done so many years ago. I must have been going insane, like my dear friend. Oh, I couldn't possibly imagine a life of sorrow and suffering like being trapped in an insane mind. I started to hallucinate that the signs on my house and neighborhood spelled out 'Harkenton, Maine'. I needed to unveil the truth about this possibly non-existent place. So, to finally quell my curiosity and suspicion, I took three days from my job as the bank's manager and left in my car, with food, water, and the other essentials I would need. With my wallet in one pocket and a recreation of what I had seen on the now vanished piece of paper, I set off to the coast of Maine on my birthday, August 11th.

Night was quickly approaching and the stars came out. The new moon had began, leaving only the stars and my GPS to guide me. However, no matter how fast I drove, nor how many twists I made, I always had the uncomfortable feeling that I was always being watched by some unknown force. For a much needed period of rest, I stopped at a nice inn on the border of New Hampshire and Maine, the kind that seems comforting and warm, covered in bright red and yellow paints, with flower beds out in the front.. A neon sign glowed 'State Border Inn - Open Vacancies'. It smelled like honey and a fire roared in the lobby to warm up the guests. The woman at the entrance desk was a kind old lady, with a nice smile and deep blue eyes. "Hello sir, are you staying here for the night?" she asked sweetly. "Yes, could I book a room for the night? I need to get to a place called Harkenton. It might be near," I said. "The name's Xavier Woodsworth. There aren't many over inns around here, and I am getting much too tired to drive, miss."

Her eyes widened fiercely at the mention of Harkenton, either in anger or fear. All of the other staff stared at me like I was deranged to speak those words. "Out!" the old woman cried, "Out now! We'll have none of your mischief. We know your kind!" Caught shocked and scared, I asked, "What's the matter?" One of the staff members, a freckled boy in his teens, said, "Oh, don't play dumb, we know you just want trouble! Out of here!" My curiosity only rising by the moment, the people shooed me outside and closed the doors behind them. I stood there, dumbfounded, as they locked me out. Of course, soon I would realize that the staff of the State Border Inn were completely justified in not wanting people from Harkenton in their little motel. I got into my car and drove off, the roads only lit by my lights.

There were moments when I nearly fell asleep and crashed, yet I prevailed. I tried to inspect each and every town sign, but my eyes began to close. There were no other inns around. My eyelids started to flicker and my entire body began to get weak and numb. I struggled to keep awake as the cool, soothing release of sleep overcame me. Then, everything went black. Even through my slumber, I could hear the distinct sounds of a car screeching, rumblings, and finally falling into some sort of leafy ditch. I pained all over, and I felt the bruises and scars even through my dreams. I had what could be known as a short case of unconsciousness or an uneasy sleep. Either way, the only thing I saw was an endless and open void instead of dreams, where no matter how far I went, I would never make any progress. Then, my eyes began to open, letting in a ray of light. My fingers started to twitch and my breaths became more frequent by the second.

The cool compress of a warm blanket wrapped around me, as I regained awareness. Thoughts rushed through my mind like racecars. 'Where am I? Where is my car? Why am I not in pain?' I thought, frantically looking around. I was in a makeshift hospital, with the comfort of a nice cottage and the medical supplies of a doctor's office. As I looked down, I was in a new set of clothes, and there was not a single bruise or scar on my body. That was insane! I knew for a fact that I crashed violently. However, not only was my car gone, but I had no sign of the ruin. However, the most unsettling thing about this house was the sounds echoing from outside of the room. The distinct noises of crunching was prominent. The sounds of grinding bones were squelching throughout his ears. I swore I heard horrific moans of pain, the sounds of a person who is on their last breaths. A group of people started to let out ugly cackles that resembled squeals.

I was incredibly confused. I couldn't see what was happened, I could only hear that awful symphony of crunching, cackling, and squelching. My imagination conjured up terrible things, and finally, I could not bear the gut wrenching racket any longer. "Where am I?" I cried out, in sheer desperation for a response. A series of gasps filled the halls. Hurried footsteps and clanging of pots and pans followed, as if the group of people were trying to clean something up. The oak door swung open to reveal a man in a well-dressed white lab coat. "Hello, Mr. Woodsworth. Don't worry. We've taken your car to the repair station and we've heales you up. This is Harkenton, Maine and you are in our little hospital. It's really just a cottage, but we've fixed it up with all the necessities," the doctor said. "I'm Dr. Redford."

I could not help but look at this man who claimed to have saved my life with suspicion. And at the mention of a name that also belonged to Harlan, the wave of memories came flooded back to me. The bed, the knife, the cameras, the drawing, Lassie. It was too much to handle. I started to breath, a heavy air of pain with each inhale and exhale. "How do I know you're a friend?" I asked, a hint of hate in my tone. Dr. Redford shook his head and scribbled something down on a notepad, leaving me alone. I was left with my swarming thoughts. Perhaps I was just being paranoid. After all, Redford is a common last name, lots of people have it. However, as the lock on the door clicked, I knew that something was gravely wrong with the little town of Harkenton, Maine.