URSULA VAN RENSIN’S

HAUNTING COLORADO SPRINGS

BOOK ONE:

DAWN MOURNING AND THE BURNT ONE

 

 

Dawn Mourning 

Dawn Mourning lived in an old Victorian house on Wasatch Street with both her parents, though she really felt that she lived alone. Her bedroom was actually the whole upper floor of the creepy old building that the neighborhood children avoided. She only shared meals a few times a week with her stiff father who sat silently at the head of the monstrous, antique dining room table. Really, Dawn didn’t even know what her father did for a living. Her mother was a fidgety woman who never held eye contact longer than a brief glance with anyone. When the floors creaked in the house, her mother always shrank her shoulders, and her dark frightened eyes searched the shadows as if in expectation of a horrible thing about to visit her. 

Not only was she alone at home, at school she had no friends. It wasn’t only that she had no friends. It was that she was tormented by her peers. There was one event that damned Dawn’s childhood. It was when she invited her classmate to spend the night, and into her private world. Laurice Anderson came over with her sleeping bag and teddy bear to the huge, lonely house. As the evening went on; late night television and yawns turned to quieter and quieter conversations about taboo things. They had both been in sexual education the year before in fifth grade. Now they were in sixth grade and they both had a year to consider what they had learned. The difference was that Laurence had a large group of friends and they all joked and laughed about sex together. Dawn, the strange misfit girl; had turned sexual fantasization into a secret study. 

Dawn had created a huge folder full of her ideas about the subject of sexual satisfaction. She had written in huge detail all her innocent mind could imagine about satisfying lust. She had also used her awesome artistic skills to draw graphic images of acts between a man and a woman, and also between a woman and another woman. There were literally hundreds of pages of her fantasies. She decided to show them to Laurice at around 12:00 on that tingling and exciting night. Laurice giggled and went through the images and passionately described and yearned for encounters. The lonely girl that had lived on Wahsatch Street her whole life laughed, thinking she had finally made a friend. Drunk on the wings of Dawn’s imagination, the two young girls stayed up into the wee hours of the morning and eventually drifted out into the sea of dreams... 

Laurice left the next morning and told Dawn that she would call that night. The Saturday night passed and Dawn received no call. Bored, she went to her footlocker to look at her carnal collection. To Dawn’s shock she found that every piece of paper she had filed there over the last year was gone! A panic gripped, her chest as her mind raced to think of where her journal could be. She tore through her room searching everywhere. Suddenly she froze. Laurice! She had to have taken it! Dawn immediately got on the phone and called Laurice. Laurice’s mother answered and told Dawn that it was too late for phone calls so she should call back the next day. 

The shaken girl hung up the phone and sat in silence for a long time trying to think of why her new friend would have taken her pictures and stories. The last thing she had heard on the phone had been a far away voice wishing her a good night. Alone and feeling more vulnerable than she ever had, she didn’t realize that she would never have a ‘good night’ again. 

Sunday, Dawn sat in a deep depression. Her head spun in confusion as it felt like it would burst into flame whenever embarrassment crept in. She wondered if Laurice would show anyone all the things that had come out of her imagination. Had she done something wrong? Could she be in some sort of trouble? She had always thought that all of the papers she had collected should be kept secret. Why did she have to bring them out last night? The miserable child was too afraid to call Laurice that day as her mind spiraled deeper into worry and fear, but Sunday was a paradise compared to her return to school on the following Monday. 

Laurice acted differently than she had been lately when Dawn saw her on the playground before school. Being shy, Dawn found it impossible to approach Laurice and the crowd she was with. A strange feeling came over her as it seemed that the other girls were talking about her, snickering and looking in her direction. Dawn was not a popular girl and most of the student body didn’t even known her name. She went through the school day alone as usual and on lunch break sat alone as well. Just as she was about to eat, someone spit a disgusting loogie right on her food. She was shocked, but she didn’t get a chance to see who it was. That was only the beginning. Laurice had stolen Dawn’s journals, and she and her friends handed out pages of the private dreams recorded there. Dreams now perverted into tools of torture in the hands of her schoolmates; that can be cruel as only the hands of children can be. Dawn slowly realized what had happened, but she could not have known what the rest of the school year held in store: The girls of the school called her horrible names and constantly assaulted her with scathing comments. The boys would trip her, knock her down, and punch her in the back. Sometimes, outside the school they threw rocks at her. The antagonists stole her books or anything else they could get their hands on. Eventually they made a game of spitting on her. 

At first Dawn tried to ignore her situation, thinking that her tormenters would stop. She was afraid to tell her teachers what was going on, thinking they might find out about her papers. After a few weeks ,she didn’t even expect any other treatment from the kids at school besides cruelty. She never got mad at anyone for what they were doing. She accepted it as normal. This was what Dawn’s life became in the sixth grade. The humiliation and abuse caused her mind to shrink into the darkest and most far away place in her imagination to hide. Dawn Mourning existed alone. 

In 1987 Dawn had lived in her lonely world for three long and dreamy years. She had become an outsider in her school and could go weeks without uttering a word. The listless girl spent her time at home alone in the upper floor of the house. Dawn rarely even saw her Father and they never spoke. The most contact she shared with her family took place at the foot of the stairs leading to the upstairs part of the house. An envelope was left on a small table at the 

bottom of her stairs once a month that contained her allowance. If she needed any school papers signed she left them on the table and they would be taken care of. Over the years her Mother had become more jumpy, she was like a frightened mouse that scurried silently about the house. Her shifty eyes were sunk deep into their dark sockets. 

Dawn constantly devoured books. She enjoyed gothic horror novels and some of the classics she got her hands on. But mostly she enjoyed romance novels. The girl could easily read and digest 200 to 300 pages a day at the age of fourteen. Something she enjoyed to do was start two or three books at the same time, read until she drifted into a peaceful nap, have a beautiful dream, and wake up to read more. 

Dawn listened to the radio and watched television less than she read and dreamed, but she knew of pop culture. She had heard of “Dead Heads”. She liked the idea of traveling the world with people who loved and accepted you for who you were. 

One day she felt brave enough to walk downtown around Acacia Park to look at the stores there. She took the allowance her father left for her to look for clothes. There was an awesome store that sold clothes from around the world. Places she had never been, amazing places far away. Dawn bought many multi-colored dresses. They flowed down to her ankles and swayed majestically when she walked. She finished the outfits with white puffy blouses. The exotic clothing made her feel like a mysterious and enchanting Gypsy. 

The innocent girl imagined that some day she would travel far and wide across the world to find a man to love. She knew in her heart that if she were loved; she could be the best love anyone could ever know. Her high school freshman year was about to start, and sometimes Dawn broke into tears at the thought of the solitary torment she would be forced to endure. Sometimes Dawn cried in hope at the thought of the love she might find. 

Dawn walked alone down Wahsatch Street to Palmer High School in the mornings. She had grown comfortable the first month of the school year. None of the other students talked to her, none her peers even gave her a second glance. She was a phantom. Laurice and the other popular girls had their own group that fit in with the athletic boys. Some of the ‘jocks’ even had their own cars. Dawn even let herself feel happy that she was ignored by the other students. She enjoyed the assignments that she was getting; every single grade was an ‘A’. The silent girl also let herself feel a little pride that she was the only one in school that wore the clothes that she did. The beautiful long dresses she wore that reminded her of far away places that she could only imagine: Romania, India, and Mongolia. She was unique. 

In the mornings before school she would comb her long, straight, brown hair that flowed down her back in a wistful silence. She would repeat in her mind: “I don’t need any of you; I will find the one I love and see the world. I will find him and he will love me...” It was a religious mantra she quoted in loneliness every morning. 

It was a chilly October morning and frost clung to the lawns in front of the homes on the way to school from Dawn’s house. She was wearing a light jacket and one of her trademark long dresses. This was her favorite skirt; it was dark brown with red and white patterns. The amazing 

designs reminded her of the gypsies of Eastern Europe. She would go away to those dark, far away mountains some day. 

The sun rising above Colorado Springs hadn’t burnt off the gray clouds of the overcast morning sky. The dew of the morning seemed to absorb the sounds of the city. Dawn walked peacefully in her usual daydream on her way to school. 

Her heart seemed to explode in her chest when she heard the first shout.
“Get Her!”
“Ha! Ha! Ha! Dirty, Dirty girl!”
“Grab her!” Young men’s voices yelled. Five muscular youths all burst out from between 

two closely spaced houses and surrounded the terrified girl. All five of them were dressed in black and wearing rubber Halloween masks, which added to the shock of the ambush. Dawn clamped her eyes shut, covered her ears, and dropped to her knees. She felt a solid kick to her back that made her bite her tongue, as she was knocked to the ground. 

“Just do it man! Hurry up!” One of the masked attackers yelled. All of the boys laughed and hooted. One of them grabbed Dawn’s foot and yanked it hard, straightening out her leg and badly skinning her knee. Another one of the boys was pushing her body to the ground. She was petrified with fear. In an instant her favorite dress was torn off of her. 

“I got it! Get her!” An excited voice yelled. Suddenly, she felt something warm and sticky pouring over her. She managed to curl into the fetal position and cover her head. 

“See ya later sexy!”
“Dirty girl!”
“Love that chocolate!” The boys all laughed as they ran back between the houses. The 

assailants had disappeared faster than they had come. Dawn lay on the ground in a tight ball of shaking muscle, with the adrenaline coursing through her body she couldn’t even feel the cold October breeze that swirled around her. She licked her lips and tasted chocolate. She realized that they had torn off her favorite dress, ran off with it, and covered her with chocolate syrup. She got up, barely able to see through her tear-filled eyes and ran back home. When she got there, she sat in the empty bathtub and cried alone all day. 

Joey Mansfield 

Joey grew up on the west side of Colorado Springs. He enjoyed watching television, football during recess at school, and in general, he learned quickly. Most of all he loved learning about all things that had engines. Joey had a few friends that were his age that lived close by, but his closest neighbor was a boy that was two years older than him. Two years isn’t much of a difference between adults, but with children it can be a huge difference. Disagreements between the two were usually settled with physical violence. The fights between them were often left 

open to decision as to who actually won. This went on through elementary school, but they remained begrudging friends until junior high. 

‘Sevies’, or seventh graders were often picked on in the junior high scheme of things (seventh to ninth grade). The reputation that Joey had gained as a fighter in elementary school had grown. He was used to scrapping because of his constant brawls with his older neighbor. When he arrived on the seventh grade scene, he decided to apply himself more to his studies. His mother had recently remarried and had become very involved with a local church. The church held a youth group after school on Wednesdays, and Joey was expected to attend. 

On a fateful day at youth group there was a soccer game being held on the tennis courts at the local elementary school. The church had arranged with the school for the use of the hard, asphalt courts. After all it was one big, happy community. The church youth group was a great way for the children of the area to grow and socialize in a healthy environment. In that soccer game, Joey was body checked and yelled; 

“Come on!” As he pushed off of the ninth grader that had run into him. Joey didn’t realize that the other player had actually been trying to goad him into a fight. When he turned to chase the ball the other boy yelled. 

“Hey!” Joey turned to look back at him. In that instant the other boy executed a perfect round house kick to his head. Stars exploded in Joey’s sight as he lost consciousness. His head bounced off the pavement as his skull smacked the hardened ground. The damage of the kick was doubled by the violent impact with the asphalt; leaving injuries on both sides of his damaged head. He was eventually awakened by an adult chaperone who gently said: 

“Your bell was rung.” Joey was led back to the church by the arm. He could only see in a small spot right where he tried to focus, his peripheral sight was gone. His Mother was called to take him to the local doctor’s office. Joey couldn’t remember anything of the rest of the day. He lay in his bed that night with a headache like he had never known. It was later learned that the ninth grade attacker had been studying martial arts. 

When Joey returned to school, a group of the other ninth graders made a game of hitting Joey in the back of the head while he was sitting in class, and when he walked down the halls between classes. Many times Joey would feel his consciousness start to fail, and it would feel as though there were needles in his tongue. This game started even before the bandages came off of his head. His grades failed and never recovered, he also lost interest in hobbies, and friendships. He became a listless dreamer. 

During this time, Joey’s Step Father’s job transferred out of town. Rather than going with his Mother, He moved in with his Father and into a new school. He quickly learned that he fit in with the ‘stoner’ crowd. When he hung out with the other kids dropping acid and smoking pot; he wasn’t expected to hold a ‘normal’ conversation. He enjoyed the late night together. His only real interest was heavy metal music, movies and automobile engines. Soon he became an outcast, 

even among his new friends. He could still get drugs through his connections, and he spiraled into a drug induced exile. 

On a warm summer night that was the summer before Joey was to enter high school he went to a beer party. Joey didn’t usually drink alcohol; he was a “pot head”. He went anyway; he stole a bottle of vodka from his dad’s house to drink that night. Instead of the quiet, stoned nights he was used to; Joey became loud and argued philosophy with a group of strangers that really didn’t care about his ramblings. They egged him on mockingly through out the night. When Joey was ready to puke and pass out the group of teenagers took him outside and took turns pummeling him. One of the assailants even broke his hand Joey’s head after he was already knocked out and laying in a pool of blood and puke. Joey would never go to a drinking party again. 

Joey was an outcast; when he met a new group of people: he tried to find friends, but it never worked out. He got a job at a local garage on the border of Manitou Springs and Old Colorado city. The loner quickly found that he could work on cars without dealing with people. 

In 1990, he was eighteen and had been working at the garage for a couple years. He lived in a “T. B.” cottage behind Mrs. Gates’ house. It was near downtown Colorado Springs. In ‘The Springs’, many old houses had small one bedroom lofts built behind the main home for tuberculosis victims, in their backyards. Colorado was thought to be a good climate to cure the disease at the time. Now the small homes served as sources of extra income for the property owners to rent out to patrons. Joey’s ‘T.B.’ fit him just fine. It was all he needed: A bed room, a bath room, and a living room. He had a car; it was just an old beater. He liked the gas guzzling boat, a blue Delta ’88, 1979 Oldsmobile. It was two couches on wheels. On I-25, free on the highway; the beast could fly. Joey had never gotten a ticket, but he smiled to himself when he thought that he should have plenty. 

Dawn Morning and Joey Mansfield 

In 1990 Dawn was still a straight ‘A’ student. She still barely even saw her skittish mother and cold distant father. The girl realized that most people knew what their parents did for a living, but she didn’t. Travel was involved in her father’s job, yet they never spoke on the rare occasion that she did see him. 

No one spoke to her at school. The boy’s that stolen her dress and covered her with chocolate sauce had hung her dress on the flag pole the following day. They bragged about their ‘prank’; until everyone heard about it all around the school. Eventually, Dawn had to be brought to the office. She denied that it had happened after the dean explained that he would call the police so she could press charges. The boys had also been spoken to and frightened quite badly. After this occasion Dawn was avoided by everyone at school and so her silent lonely life went on. 

The weather was always beautiful in the dreamy sunlit afternoons of the blue sky covered Colorado Springs days: Dawn enjoyed long walks during this time. Her long flowing dresses that she was so fond of swayed with her steps; the hem tickling her feet wrapped in leather sandals. She walked almost in a dream around the city. Sometimes she would look around and realized she didn’t even know where she was anymore: Discovering a new place; she would look at the mountains and start walking again, with not quite a smile on her face. It was one such day she heard a kind and strange voice. It seemed to harbor some pain: 

“Hey!” haven’t seen you through here.” She thought at first to ignore him and keep walking. She looked over at the boy working on a car next to the sidewalk. She quickly took in her surroundings. There was a garage with one of the large doors open, and several cars parked around the building. 

“Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you,” again the voice full of kindness and pain. The boy smiled and blushed. He wasn’t used to talking to strangers, much less a strange girl. Dawn stopped and looked at him full on. His eyes went to his own hands, which he was wringing a dirty rag. He was wearing a greasy old monkey suit the sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. His hands and forearms had black oil stains on them; some old, some new. Dawn realized she was looking into his hazel eyes below his short brown hair, and she caught her breath. The two hooked into each others eyes, locking these for a moment as if both were afraid to make the next move. Joey looked to the ground, blushing even more. 

“Sorry, I guess I was just saying hello.” Dawn cocked her head like an animal trying to understand something new. She did something that moment that was totally out of character tried to speak. Instead of words, a broken cough came from her mouth. Joey smiled warmly and looked up. Dawn cleared her throat, and with a quiet voice managed to shyly reply: 

“Hello.”
“Road dust.” Joey gestured to the street.
“Wuh?”
“Road dust. Walking on the side of the road you can get road dust in your throat.”
“Uh huh.” Dawn mumbled as she started walking again.
“My name is Joey. I work here.” Dawn looked at him. The young man looked about her age. “How old are you?” Dawn asked, somewhat sheepishly. She couldn’t believe she was 

talking to him. It was as if she was possessed. She felt like she was doing something wrong, getting in trouble. 

“Eighteen. Why?”
“You work here?” Her voice uncertain, seemed to float from her mouth.
“I’ve been working here for about two years, longer than some of the guys. I’m Joey. 

What’s your name?” Dawn thought of ignoring him. There was something about him she couldn’t figure out. He was dirty, rough looking. Dawn sized him up again. In his eyes there was a kindness and pain, a sort of longing. His voice seemed friendly, with no sarcasm, and again a 

sadness, and pain. She thought she loved him in an instant. How could she? Her mind screamed. You don’t even know this guy. She still decided to answer the gruffly looking grease monkey. 

“Dawn.” 

“Wow, I like that name. Do you live around here?” Joey asked with excitement. Now that was too much, Dawn decided. She made up her mind to keep walking. Joey’s heart dropped into his shoes. He glanced at her walking away and got back to work. Joey saw Dawn walk back by the shop later that evening. He watched her go and as she did; she looked into the garage. His heart was lifted. 

A week after Joey and Dawn had first met; it was a warm, pleasant, Colorado Springs day. Joey had worked on several cars and he was exhausted .Then he saw her. Dawn was standing in front of the garage on Colorado Avenue. She was wearing a white blouse that fit her perfectly. Her skirt went from thin her waist to her ankles. The soft breeze made her dress sway, as though she were surrounded by dreams .She was looking right at him! Joey felt his heart jump in his chest. 

“Jerry! One minute!” Joey yelled to his boss. 

“Hi, Dawn!” He exclaimed as he stopped short in front of her. Dawn looked into his eyes again, probing. He was about her height, and he had a bit of a muscular build. She was looking into his eyes. She saw the same thing she noticed before: loneliness, pain, kindness, and longing. This time, his face was alight with excitement as well. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“I like to walk. I like walking by here, and you’re almost done today. Do you like to walk?” It had taken Dawn a week to muster up the courage to come back here. Half of that time was spent figuring out what to say. Now that she did, she wasn’t sure if it was the best thing to do. She didn’t even know anything about Joey. Joey didn’t know what to say either. There was a long and uncomfortable silence, as the two tried to maintain eye contact between looks around. Joey scuffed the ground with his foot and then looked up. Dawn broke the silence: 

“I was thinking of going up to down town Manitou.” 

“O.k. let me finish up. I’ll be a little bit; you can wait in the office.” Dawn followed Joey to the office where there were seats for customers. Joey went back to the garage. 

“You can go.” Joey’s boss said over the excited mechanic’s shoulder.
“I’ll finish up.”
“Thanks Jerry, I’ll make it up. I’ll be back to get my car in a bit. We’re going for a walk, I 

gotta get cleaned up!” Joey washed up in the back room, and changed to street clothes. His finger nails were still black. He met Dawn, and they left together. 

It was obvious from the start that neither of them had much in the way of social skills. Still, with every little nuance and gesture: There was love. They walked along the strip of Manitou in rapture. Every little thing would become a memory to be cherished. Joey pointed out tourists and Dawn actually smiled from time to time. In one fated evening of wandering from store to store, though the park, and down streets; they fell in love. They were both lonely, so hurt, and so left 

behind by the world. Just being accepted for one evening of sharing good will, and not being on the defensive, was enough for both of them to believe they had found kindred spirits. Their souls were meant to be together. 

“I can’t believe I said hello to you.”
“I know I never do that.”
“If we had been too afraid to talk to each other; this never would have happened.”
“What do we do now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Me neither.”
They walked back to the garage and Joey gave Dawn a ride home. Joey couldn’t sleep that 

night. Dawn cried into her pillow, waiting for her heart to break. It felt like a great joy rippled through her at the same time as a pain tore at the edges of her reality. The emotional roller coaster seemed to be too much to bear. Was Joey the one? 

Dawn was almost out of high school. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do after. Joey had dropped out, but he was already a great mechanic. Over the next few months the two loner’s love grew. They seemed that they were meant to be together in every way. Joey didn’t see his parents, but once in a blue moon. Dawn’s home situation was the same. Joey had come to accept it. Dawn had been to Joey’s house, but they didn’t spend much time there. They found other things to do. The same held true with Dawn’s house. When they did stop by Dawn’s one evening; Joey entered the front door tentatively. 

“Hello.” Joey said when he glanced Dawn’s mom ducking into a door way. 

“I said, just leave her.” Dawn whispered. Joey furrowed his brow and nodded. After a brief visit: Joey left to get some sleep. Joey dreamed about Dawn every night. Dawn would dance with joy every night, with the ecstasy of finding someone to love, and who loved her in return. They had fallen so deeply in love that they were each other’s whole sense of happiness. 

Dawn got home from school, and was cramming her homework before Joey got off work. There was a loud knock at the front door. She ran down stairs and glanced down the hall. Her mother was peeking around the corner. Dawn felt a confidence at answering the door. Joey had given her that confidence. She tilted her head as she realized that it was too early for Joey. He also did not knock like that. She opened the door tentatively. 

“Dawn? Dawn Mourning?” A police officer stood in front of her. His shirt was bulging from the bullet proof vest beneath it. His radio crackled as he reached down and turned off the volume. Dawn didn’t answer. She was intimidated by the large man. 

“Dawn?” He repeated. He had something in his hand. She looked at it. He lowered it to his side so she couldn’t make it out. 

“Dawn Mourning?” He spoke again, more forcefully. “Yes?”
“May I come inside?”
“What is this about?” She mumbled. 

“I am Officer Glenn Ramone. May I speak with you inside?”
“You can speak with me here.”
“I think you may wish to be sitting down.” The officer sadly attempted a warm smile.
“Can I help you?” Dawn said back as strongly as she could muster.
“There has been an accident.”
“Yes?”
“This is your student I.D....” Dawn felt the blood drain from her face. She had given her 

student I.D. to Joey as a love memento to carry in his wallet.
“There has been an accident...”
“What kind of accident? Just tell me!” She snapped in panic. She knew in her shaking heart 

that it was about her only love; her savior, Joey. Instead of being scared, she made herself mad as her last line of defense against a feeling of horror that threatened to overcome her. It was completely out of character for the girl. Where Joey was concerned, if he was in danger, she felt ready to become a feral beast... Joey was her life. 

“I’m afraid there was an accident at the garage today. Joey was killed. There was an explosion. We found your I.D. among his belongings, and some of his co-workers said that you have been dating.” Officer Ramone tried to maintain eye contact with the frail girl. Suddenly, she swooned. The officer caught her in his arms. He gently laid her on the porch and put his hand behind her head. 

Dawn awoke with two paramedics tending to her. Officer Glenn Ramone was accepting a glass of water from her mother’s trembling hand. The cowardly woman that was her mother stood trembling in the doorway. Dawn’s vision swam. 

“Here you are dear, take a sip.” The shaken girl took the glass. One of the emergency medical technicians was taking her blood pressure on the other arm. 

“What happened?” Dawn questioned. Her mind was surrounded by a swarm of confusion. “You feinted.” The strong officer replied kindly.
“I don’t understand. What happened to Joey?” Dawn murmured.
“We are investigating, just relax honey.” 

“I don’t understand. What happened?” 

“There was an explosion. That’s all we know.” Dawn was blinded by her tears. A great pain wracked her body as the realization of what she had been told took hold of her. She felt as if her heart was torn from her body. 

“I would like to go inside.” Her shaking voice seemed to plea. 

“Here take this card. This is my number. I can help you get in touch with someone who can talk to you about all of this. Her name is Dr. Drapier. It is her job to help people get through these kinds of tragedies.” Dawn’s numb hand took the card. She walked up the stairs in a daze. She didn’t even hear the distant voices flowing up behind her. She went to the bathroom and sat in the empty bathtub, there she cried for the rest of the day. 

The next morning she prepared for school on time. Her heart was an aching hole in her soul. She had been up all night crying. Part of her refused to believe Officer Ramone. She had to know. Instead of going to school at the dreaded Palmer High; she began the long walk down Colorado Avenue.... 

She stood at the same spot she had when she returned to meet with Joey, Joey Mansfield. She had practiced writing her name as Dawn Mansfield, over and over again. 

Dawn Mourning...
Dawn Mourning...
Dawn Mansfield... Now she could never marry Joey.
They had made each other so happy. How could that be gone now? How could this be? She 

asked herself as she stood looking at the fire damage to the garage of Joey’s work place. The black tendrils etched into the store front by the smoke of the flames that snuffed out her love’s life, reached for the sky. They seemed to beckon to her, even as she could not bear to look. How? 

Dawn walked home in a daze. Once she got there, she went upstairs to her flat. She went to her bathroom and broke apart her leg razor. She put on the outfit she wore the first night she had went on the walk with Joey to Manitou. The walk that had changed her heart, had given her hope, and made her decide that she could find love. 

She climbed into her empty bathtub and with a tear... She slit her wrists. Watching her own blood drain into the bottom of the tub, she felt release. Dawn grew cold, not a shivering cold, a numb, releasing cold. In an after thought; she slit her throat. 

The broken girl laid back in the tub, bleeding. She had one thought: With every part of her dying spirit, as her eyes fluttered shut; she cried out to Joey. Another soul called to her from the void and her soul began to follow... Joey, she could feel him there. Her consciousness spent its last split second leaving her mind to completely enter the spiritual realm with Joey: She was wracked with horrific shock. Joey was there, but then he was torn away. A swirling sea of darkness tore them from each other. Waves of all negativity, thousands of them at once slammed into Dawn’s feeble soul: Dawn felt every negative emotion she had ever experienced in her whole life hit her all at once. Time turned inside out as the split second of her death lasted forever: Fear, Embarrassment, hatefulness, misery, loneliness, devastation, horrible loss... 

Through the tidal wave of other worldly pain: She could sense Joey again. He was there. Her lost soul reached out to him; she felt the warmth of his love... Then Panic: She felt something go wrong. Joey couldn’t find her! She felt him grow angry as she reached out to him. His anger turned to flames. She felt his soul go further away. No! Her soul cried: I’m here... She was alone. 

The calm where she found Joey was the eye of the storm and it passed. She had no fear as the waves crashed down on her this time, though: Joey was looking for her. The weak hope of her pitiful soul in this nameless place was enough to fight off the fear, but fear was only one emotion, one wave, one current in a fathomless sea. The void left by the absence of fear was quickly filled with an all powerful, immortal despair. She was suddenly so full of certainty that 

he would never find her; that the tides of dread became a sea of sorrow. A second was a year, a year was a second. She waited for Joey and her soul cried; lost and alone in the black abyss... 

Dawn Mourning and the Burnt One 

It had been years since Joey and Dawn had died. Their tragic deaths went unnoticed by most of Colorado Springs. There were a few that remembered; even though they ignored the unwanted thoughts: Laurice Anderson was one of them. All of the boys that had stolen Dawn’s dress and covered her with chocolate sauce had the memory of the tragedy gnawing at the back of their minds over the years too. 

On a chilly October night, Laurice was at the Prime Night tavern on Wasatch Street. She didn’t have to work the next day, but the friends she was with did. She decided to stay by herself anyway. She began to drink heavily as she enjoyed the blaring music. Laurice knew that she shouldn’t drive, but eventually she fumbled for her keys. The intoxicated woman walked slowly, with deliberate steps towards her car in the parking lot. 

She put her keys into the car door, when Laurice suddenly stopped to listen. She thought that she heard a soft noise. Laurice walked to the front of her car facing the sidewalk. Kneeling there on the pavement was a young girl in a long dress and a white blouse that was crying into her hands. 

“Hello. Can I help you?” Laurice asked as she moved closer to the girl who was crying with her hands over her face. The girl looked up. There were gashes on her wrists and throat. Her pale face was full of anguish. 

“Dawn?” Laurice gasped in shock. The utter horror of the sight froze her on the spot. In that same instant she felt a searing heat surround her and the smell of acrid smoke filled her nostrils. She turned to look behind her. Towering over Laurice; was a terrifying image of hate and anger. It was wreathed in a ghostly orange fire. In that instant the flames spread out to surround her. Laurice Anderson did not even have time to scream, she was burnt to death on the spot. Her charred remains dropped to the sidewalk in a smoldering heap. 

Months after Laurice Anderson’s closed casket funeral; the police detectives still could not explain the death. Some suggested spontaneous human combustion. It was almost a joke around the station. It was a joke that sent a chill down most Officers’ spines. 

John Boyd was one of the masked attackers that had assaulted Dawn so many years ago. He was getting off work late. He was very proud of his construction experience and he would become a foreman soon. John was leaving the work offices on Moreno Avenue around sunset. Tired from a long day’s work, he walked across the parking lot alone. John put the key into the door of his truck, he stopped: He heard what sounded like a young girl whimpering coming from the front of his vehicle. 

“Hello?” He said softly. He peered around the front of his truck. He saw a young girl in a long dress and a white blouse kneeling on the ground, sobbing. Her hands covered her face. 

“Can I help you?” The girl looked up at him...