#dolmen gate

                                                  --- “ Alright, I think I know one that you might like to hear. Though its a story thats not exactly very old. During the War there was a small internment camp a few miles outside of town, on the other side of Mnt. Francois. There were a few German fishermen, but mostly us Japanese. Very old families that settled here decades before the war for whatever reason. My grandmother was just a child when they moved her into the camp, and according to her it was terrible of course, but it also wasn’t that much better than the town. Back then the Navy closed off a lot of northern ports up here to prevent disruption of the sub bases, and our town had one a few hundred miles to the north and south. So without the fishing, and because of the draft, the town was barely there. One night during a storm, my grandmother and her brother were awake and wandering about the camp while everyone was asleep. They usually did this as a game, to avoid the four or five guards who patrolled around the camp, whatever you can do to have a little fun went a long way I guess. But that night the guards were all on the far end of the camp, watching something strange on the horizon. When my grandmother and her brother got close, the guards didn’t even care, they were gobsmacked. She said she saw this great shape swooping up and down on the other side of the mountain, a huge thing the size of a house that moved between the clouds so fast. She said it looked different every moment, like it was falling apart in the sky. It had these long things that looked like arms one moment and wings the other, they were ragged and had these long strands fluttering off of it. They watched it go up and down for what felt like hours. She said it was like a hawk diving low to pick up its food of the ground, but that it just kept doing it. After a while she realized that it wasn’t falling apart like she thought, it was dropping things from the sky. Thats the part that scared me the most as a kid. Anyway, it eventually just soared off up the coast. The guards just let them go back to bed with no trouble, she says they never gave her or her brother any problems for the rest of the War. Wish I could have seen something like that.” - An unidentified woman.

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Yewnport is one of the tiny port towns in Maine that is as old as it is forgettable. One of a thousand little fishing villages on the rocks of the northern coast, barely eking by on its fish and lobster. Surrounded by miles of pines like the rest of the state. R. and I are not exactly happy to drive seven hours through mountain roads to get there, we both grew up in shitty little places like it before we decided to move to Portland and start our “media company.” We wanted to do commercials and magazine-work but ended up doing hipster camping parties and photos of rocks for the Wildlife Commission, such is life out here I guess. Just two girls and our windowless fan filled with expensive cameras. About twenty miles away from the town we pulled into a Park Ranger outpost to avoid the wall of storm-clouds coming from the direction we were heading. Nothing worse than being caught in a storm when driving on roads mostly made of gravel and mud. Just as we both walked through the screen door we heard the sky open up, a howling storm began shaking the whole forest. The rain against our van sounded like a terrible drum corps playing all at once. We sat alone in the tiny front-office. R. angrily tried to get some sort of reception on her phone, I just watched the tiny bulb above us begin to flicker. The door behind the decrepit front desk opened, Ranger L. walked in, completely drenched. “I didn’t expect you guys back here so soon. You two are lucky you barely missed the rain, its killer out there.” His long black hair had fallen out of the bun beneath his hat, as he took I saw a streaks of grey I didn’t remember last time. Odd for someone to go grey in their mid 20‘s, but it happens. I wondered if it was a Native American thing for a second before realizing that was probably fucked up to think. R. nudged at me. “Well, A. was in a real hurry to get back up here. She wants to play this fucking awful game.” R. was still angry that I forced her to come with me. I had begged her all through the night and the day before, I think she finally gave in to shut me up. “This is hardly a game, this kind of thing is dangerous. If we aren’t careful- If we aren’t really careful, this could go really bad.” “Wait, what do you mean us?” “A. after you called me yesterday a lot of weird shit has been happening around here that I am not exactly, uh, equipped to deal with.” Outside the rain calmed down, allowing a thick fog to stream through the forest, obscuring the trees on the other side of the road. The lightbulb above us finally stopped flickering. R. scoffed. “Jesus, don’t give me that Indian magic shit ok? This is just someone messing with us. Probably some creepy old man with too much time on his hands” L. payed that no mind, but I shot her a mean glance. Her usual attitude was the last thing I needed. “A huge metal box covered in dirt showed up in front of my place a while ago, I’ve been trying to call you but the phone lines are down all the sudden.” “Where is it now? What was in it?” “A projector, and some computer stuff. And a lot of papers, all of it is transcribed conversations you had with people in town, and me.” He sat on the desk and shifted uncomfortably, he looked at the floor. “But I don’t remember you interviewing me or anyone else in town. I just remember you coming for the wedding and leaving after.” R. and I looked at each other, neither of us remembered any of that. She squeezed my hand, despite her pissy attitude I knew this scared the hell out of her too. “I guess we should look at it.” I stood up and so did R., we both began walking to the screen door. “You dont want to wait for the rain to stop?” L. was clearly more afraid than either of us. I just realized how sleep-deprived he looked; his bloodshot eyes were glassy and sitting upon dark bags. His hair dried into an unkempt scraggle. “L. ... when did you say the box showed up?” “Oh, I didn’t. It was about a week ago.” We were silent, the only sound was the rain, which was now a soft patter. Tendrils of steam rose off of the road and dissipated into the cool fog. “We called you last night , it could’nt have been a week ago. Are you sure it was that long?” R. squeezed my hand tighter, her cold fingers trembled slightly. L. looked out the screen door, the man was clearly too tired to think straight. He rubbed his eyes, something that made him only look more exhausted and nervous afterwards. “We should get going to my place.”

---

“Well, Yewnport was founded sometime around 1019 by Norse settlers from Greenland, back then it was called Yolmsvik after the famed clan of Odin-faith warriors. The journey was led by Freydis Ericsson II, an adopted daughter of the Wicked Woman herself they say! It was the first and only stable Viking town in North America for a long time. Though, of course, they had to return to Newfoundland following after the events of the Icelandic Sagas as we all know. They say that during a truly horrible storm a great stone clearing appeared in the woods on the cliffs to the north of the town, creating the formation we know today as Oil Rock. The vikings revered this stone, and yet feared it because of its unnatural darkness. Either out of that fear or worship the stone was dubbed the “Helvegenstein,” the “Stone of the path to Hel.” They say that Hela herself would meet any soul who slept upon the stone, and that she would tell them a secret that only the dead know. Of course its just a story, a little ancient local color you see! Quite an amazing origin of our little town though, ha ha!” - A man identified as “ Thomas J. Honey.”

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L. lived outside of the town in the Bells Lighthouse. The original lighthouse itself fell into the sea decades ago, but the house next to it remains, a white box on a sliver of stone overlooking the fog, having no other purpose than being remote enough to be of use to the Wildlife Service and Coast Guard as a radio-hub. Its the lonely place that was in the picture that appeared at R.s' house last night. I barely remembered it for some reason, a foggy image of a place we hiked to... But I've only just now connected it back to here, and back to the “last time” we were here. Nothing about this feels right. How did I remember that the Lighthouse was in Yewnport? “Its cold as shit outside, I thought it was supposed to be Summer." R. trudged ahead of us, arms tightly crossed and head low to avoid the fog and sea-spray as we walked along the rocky shore to the Lighthouse. “Yeah, we've been having some pretty awful weather for a while now. Stuff we usually have to go through in the winter but now instead. Fucking global warming." The woods to the right of us were almost black, the fog and overcast sky made it impossible to see more than about three feet in. I couldn't help but look over my shoulder into the dark, I must have done it hundreds of times. I had a weird feeling, I could tell from the way she was walking that R. must have been feeling it too. Like something was right in front of our faces, or just barely out of sight in there. Like when you know someone was just in an empty room somehow, or when you sit down in a seat that's still warm. Just a presence. Its not a feeling of being watched. I dont know what it is, but its close. “We aren’t too far now, just around this bend and its a straight shot. I’m happy we’ve avoided the rain.” If L. felt anything like we did, he wasn’t letting on. But then again, he seems so ragged and tired. “A. come on, I really dont feel like being a tourist right now." R. looked back, the worry in her voice and face peeked through her usual frustration. I wobbled over the rocks to catch up with her, passing L. for a moment long enough to hear how hard he was breathing. Weird for a Park Ranger to get that tired. R. walked close to me once I caught up, tufts of wet blonde clung to her forehead. Looking like sickly veins on her temples and forehead, her hoodie flapped a little in the breeze as she looked at me. Her eyes were glassy and wide. We've known each other long enough to tell what the other was feeling, friends can share a lot in a single glance. “Dont look into the woods." “No shit." We spoke quietly, I barely heard her over the wind. “What exactly are we going to do when we even get there? What if this shit in the box is... I don’t know, bodies or something.” “Thats not what he said it was, its just-” “You’re trusting that? A., it could be anything.” “He has no reason to lie to us about this, he’s just as much a part of whatever this is.” “Says who?” “What? We know him, he’s got weird stuff in the mail just like we did.” I looked back for a moment to see L. looking out to the sea, panting as he tried to keep up with us. “I get it, you’re scared ok? I am too, we just- we just need to work this out.” The wind picked up a little, foam started spitting at our shoes and legs. The rocks became way more slick, shining in the dim light. I saw the outline of Bells Lighthouse through the fog, another twenty minutes and we’d be there. “A. ... Why did you say that?” “Say what?” “Why did you say ‘we know him’?” “Wh- we do.” “I mean yeah, but how do we know him.” “He saw us when we were here-.” “We dont remember being here, I don’t remember being here. Thats what I’m saying. How do we know him?” She stared ahead at the Lighthouse, her hands were crossed so tight. “There is no fucking reason to believe any of this, OK? Fuck, I feel like I am just about to wake up from this shit. Just accepting everything even if I don’t remember it... There’s no reason to fucking see it like that.” She was right. I’ve been talking to him like I knew him, but I didn’t. It was like the picture; I just knew that the Lighthouse was in Yewnport, but how did I know. I looked back at L., he nodded hello to me like nothing was wrong. I nodded back.

---

“My Father told me a story a long time ago about this town, and I’ll never forget it. A long time ago there was a hunter who fell in love with an Indian, and every night he would lie to his wicked wife and lie with the Indian woman in the woods. He hated the woman his parents had him marry, and wanted dearly to live with the Indian woman for the rest of his days. So on one night the hunter went to lie with the Indian and he told her about his desire to be with her forever, and she wept and wept. He asked her why she cried, why she was not happy to hear his love for her. But she was also in a loveless marriage to the son of her peoples Chieftain and could never abandon him. They both fell into sadness, trapped apart from a life together. That night they wept as they slept together, and smelling their tears the Witch of the Wood appeared. As they dreamed, she licked their tears away and spoke to them. She said that they could be free if they had a child that was for the witch to raise. In their dreams they agreed, the Witch of the Wood granted them freedom All was well for the lovers who disappeared from the minds of their villages, at least till it was time to have a child. For every time the Indian woman gave birth, the babe was born dead. The witch grew angry after the fifth dead daughter, thinking that they were killing their children to spare them a life of Witchery. And so she cursed them to be together forever. The next day, they were slain by hunters from each others villages. Living in the wilderness all this time had made them look like beasts and horrors to their peoples. They say that the place where there blood spilled was where they first slept and wept together, and that the land under them with tears and blood became and dead. The spot is up on the cliffs.” - A woman identified as “Abigail Smythe”.

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There were hundreds of interviews, each was on some small factoid or beloved thing in the town. Most were innocuous enough, favorite local diners and pubs, a few old family stories. But others just were contradictory and ridiculous, we spent hours reading them, trying to understand why none of this seemed familiar at all. The leftovers of an edited together project definitely, but no final product. Just bits and pieces. The feeling of unease towards L. left after I engrossed myself in the transcripts. R. was right in saying that we had no reason to trust him, but we also had no reason not to. Besides, he was helping, and seemed to genuinely want to help us. “Well, this hard drive is fucked. Absolutely everything on it is corrupted.” R. stretched in the  old desk chair she’d been perched in for a few hours, clearly she was pissed that getting L.s’ ancient computer to work was for nothing. “So I guess those stories are all we’ve got huh.” “Yeah, that and the wedding tape.” L. sighed. “You said thats why we were here right? That you were there?” “I guess so, you were hired by the Waite family to shoot their wedding up on Oil Rock. Hold on, its around here I think.” L. dug through the piles of papers to pull out an unmarked CD in a clear plastic case. The word WAITE was written on the case in sharpie. “L., you said that A. and I shot this right? If thats true than why would we have kept the recording and not given it to the customers.” “I dont know, I wasn’t the one who wrote all of this down and buried all of this who knows where.” The two of them looked at me, I tried my hardest not to pay them any mind. The last thing I really need is to doubt my actions any more than I already do, Dr. G only just lowered my meds and this would undoubtedly make things worse. “Put it on.” R. looked worried. “Uh, ok- I mean nothing really happened.” “Thats how you remember it.” He cleared his throat and put it into the projector. I take out a clean sheet of paper and a pen, I begin to jot down what I am seeing.

---

After a few moments of darkness it cut quickly to a reception dinner. A few hundred people were inside a large white hall of sorts, there was kind of cheap looking catering, and most people there seemed fairly elderly other than a few people who looked in their early 30s’. There were no kids I could see. The audio is incredibly poor, most words are impossible to make out, bizarre considering that our mic system is visible for a moment. That kind of thing simply doesn’t happen. The setup seemed to be our usual two-camera job for weddings, but it wasn’t how we usually filmed. Camera 1 (mine) was positioned at a wall looking out across the room, it slowly panned back and forth across the crowd as they mingled and ate. Nothing odd other than how long this took, it went back and forth for about 25 minutes. Eventually it cut to R.s’ Camera 2,I’m not sure if it is in the same building, but it shows a bride in a completely white room putting on a very plain gown and veil in front of a mirror, or possibly a window. Her back is to the camera, her head is shaved completely bald. She is staring at something in front of her, but the lighting of the room is too intense to see exactly what it is. This shot lingers for about 15 minutes until a door that blended into the left wall opens, obscuring the brides face as she turns to whoever opened the door, something inaudible is said by a female voice and the bride gets up to leave. There is a cut back to the hall. The light have been dimmed, purple accent lighting is lit on the walls, the table at the far end of the hall is lit for a toast. After all of the guests get to their seats there is a silence as the guests all look to the bride who has been sitting at the table this entire time. It is unknown if she has been there the entire time, or if the previous shot was out of chronology. She is too far from Camera 1 to make out any of her features other than her baldness. An older man at the end of the table stands to deliver a toast, it is entirely inaudible and does not sound like it is in English. There are several Asian (probably Japanese due to the notes) families present, though it also does not sound like Japanese and the speaker is clearly Caucasian. There is another cut in the middle of his speech to a still shot of a house at night, again this is a shot from Camera 2. The camera is situated across the street from the house and does not move at all, the shot is static until a light in the house turns on. The camera zooms in to show a woman with long dark hair putting something over her head, the angle of the camera and the somewhat unfocused shot makes it difficult to tell exactly what it is, but it may be some sort of plastic bag. As the woman walks out of view the shot cuts again to the Hall, but it is empty, some people present and the dinner help fold away tables and sweep up. The camera is still panning from side to side. Then there is a cut to black, this lasts for about 10 minutes. Muffled speaking can be heard along with the sound of a car, its possible that one of the cameras was left on as we were driving somewhere. Though the voices are so muffled they could be anyones. The sound fades out as a shot of white pews leading to a white pedestal  fades in, this is the first transition that seems professionally done. Ironically the wind makes it impossible to hear anything. The pews and pedestal are all decorated with a blue flower and pale branches of what might be Birch, they are all situated in the middle of a forest clearing atop a dark rock formation. Though the sky is not visible due to the tree-line, it is definitely a very sunny day. This is definitely Oil Rock. Slowly the aisles fill with people who attended the reception dinner, its unknown whether the dinner was before or after this. Everyone has a single blue flower somewhere on their clothing. Interestingly, while each man is dressed in the usual black suit seen at weddings, all shirts and ties are also black. Music is suddenly heard over the wind, as the last of the attendees are seated. Though it is hard to discern, it is not music usually heard at a traditional wedding. It is definitely coming from a live band, one of the instruments immediately recognizable is something that sounds a lot like a Hurdy Gurdy. After the music ends all people seated rise and look down the isle, out of the cameras view. A young child spreads sticks on the ground as the bride follows. Now that her dress can be more clearly seen; it is definitely not a dress at all, its closer to a collard cloak of sorts with a capelet that is attached to the veil by a black choker or collar around her neck. Also it is entirely possible that this is not a “bride” at all, or at least in the traditional sense. Due to the momentary closeup as they pass, it becomes clear that the gender of this person is not clear at all. Though they are clearly young, and their eyes are very red and agitated. Though they are currently emotionless, this could be due to prolonged crying. For now they’ll be referred to as bride/groom. They stand alone on the pedestal until the music stops, the attendees all kneel in the pews and pray. Though it cannot be heard exactly, the prayer is clearly the lords prayer. As they finish the bride/groom is clearly trying to hold back a powerful emotion, their eyes are darting from face to face in the crowd. Are they looking for help? A new song begins and the bride/groom close their eyes, muttering their own prayer as tears run down their face. The attendees remain seated but turn to watch a figure in a white robe and rounded back hat with a wide brim walk down the isle, as this person passes the attendees bow their heads. Reaching the end of the isle, they are clearly the officiator. They pay no mind to the state of the bride/groom as they raise their hands and begin the ceremony. The wide brim of the hat obscures most of their face, only the mouth can be seen. This person is probably in their 40‘s to 50‘s from what can be seen, though gender is not discernable. I’ll simply call this person the “Priest.” The Priest begins to speak what is clearly some sort of prayer, the attendees occasionally join by saying “Amen” and other inaudible phrases. At this moment I am wondering why there seems to be only one side of the wedding present, the bride/groom is less distraught and seems to have accepted whatever this even entails. They are gazing blankly to the left of the shot, rarely blinking as they stare into the woods. The shot transitions into the view of Camera 2, that shows the final pew of attendees and a shot of the cliffs and ocean. Bells Lighthouse can be seen from here, incidentally L. can also be seen in attendance, sitting in the last row. Then there is a quick transition back to the original shot, the bride/groom is being held at the arms though they are not struggling. The bride/groom is trying very hard to avoid looking at something unseen to the left of the shot. The Priest has begun chanting something as the Hurdy Gurdy plays three repeating chords along with the chant. The men restraining the bride/groom are elderly but large enough to convincingly keep the bride/groom in place. They are both wearing the entirely black suits, but the cuffs and collars of their jackets have a single stripe of baby-blue. The wind that had overcome most of the audio has stopped entirely, but the Priest is chanting so passionately that they are incomprehensible. Suddenly a few people in the pews begin to rock back and forth, praying or weeping intensely, others are laughing. The bride/groom seems oddly peaceful. A few people begin to convulse and have  to be held back by those seated near them. Some begin to foam at the mouth, the child who was spreading sticks in the aisle can be heard screaming and is seen in the lower corner of the shot running away. After a few minutes of this chaos, it stops immediately. The Priest lowers their head and stands completely still, the old men restraining the bride/groom shut their eyes tight and grimace. There is only the distant sound of the ocean for what feels like an hour as everyone tries to remain completely still. There is the barely audible sound of sticks breaking and the movement of brush from the left of the shot. The bride/groom stares in this direction, one of the old men turns away with their eyes still closed shut. Theres something coming out of the woods. I think that might be a cane or- no its an arm. A long black arm slowly with a large and thin hand is placed on the ground, pulling a figure. Its walking on all fours. It has unnaturally black skin, its stepping out of the woods and into the light. Its hea- its not a person. Its head is huge, its entire body is. It has a head like a horses, but its entirely black and glistening in the light. There are no eyes, no nose or ears. There are two long horns that curve back, making its head into a large Y-shaped wedge. Its body is hairless other than its legs and very long and thick neck, jet black hair hangs low, tips drag against the stone. Its arms and legs are so long. Its feet are hands, its feet are long human hands. Its so silent. Its walking to them, the old men just walk away, they are standing there just looking at it. The thing is grabbing at them slowly, gently. Its mouth opens, a long tongue- they are opening their mouth too. Its kissing them, its mouth reaches their ears. They are choking on something, something going down their throat. They swallowed something, there is this black juice all over the cloak now. Its drawing back, they are smiling at it. They are smiling at the thing, now its pulling-

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Suddenly I heard R. screaming, I dont know how long she was doing it for. I was writing down everything, I couldn’t think. She’s pointing at something, something behind me? No. I dont want to look now. She’s cowering, she fell out of her chair. My hand is bleeding, why is my hand bleeding. No its all over the papers now, fuck. Wait, whats that smell. There’s a window open? Shes grabbing me,pulling me We are going out of the house. There’s a fire. Its raining I feel sick. I forgot my medication, its been hours since we left. I’m having an-

there’s one of the old men. He has L. They are going into the water. I feel Sick. Someone else is touching me.

---

“IF I HAD THE KEY TO THE WORLD, I’D THROW IT AWAY FOR YEWNPORT”

      - Sign of a homeless man identified as “David.”

---

Its been a few weeks since we went to Yewnport. Dr.G was not happy to re-admit me, but she says that I’ll probably only have to be here for a few weeks or so. R. is pissed at me for all of it, but she visits every day. Group is weird, I dont know how I should be telling them why I relapsed. I mean, I could. But I dont want to end up on Unsolved Mysteries.

Is that show still on? Anyway, being in here I cant exactly get any info on exactly what happened. R. told me what she was able to, so at least I know that much wasn’t just me. She wont tell me about what happened after we watched the wedding footage. And I dont remember much outside waking up in the van a few miles outside of Portland. She says I should just forget it, that we already tried to “sleuth it” and that didn’t end well. Its funny though, ever since then, I remember.