14 May The Town That Never Was

In the quiet and otherwise uninteresting part of the country where I grew up, there is an old urban legend involving the small town of Tartarus, an isolated and unincorporated community that apparently once existed on the far western boundary of our county.

I say “apparently” because there is no official record of the town ever existing. It doesn’t appear on Google Maps and isn’t listed in any of the records held in the state archives. In fact, you won’t find Tartarus mentioned in most of the local history books or road maps, except for the occasional reference in long-outdated texts, which historians and local authorities dismiss as errors.

Still, these obscure records do exist if one digs deep enough. The government may deny its existence, but that’s just the official position. Many living in the county claim to remember Tartarus all too well. Those of the older generations are more likely to recall the small settlement—or at least have fleeting memories of it.

I’ve spoken with many who remember visiting the town during their childhood, and some who claim to have had friends or distant relatives who lived there. There’s other evidence too—like the fact that an old, disused road runs through the western hills and then stops in the middle of nowhere.

No one in a position of authority can explain why the road was constructed, but oddly enough, it leads directly to the spot where Tartarus was rumored to have been located.

So, the question remained: if Tartarus did once exist, what the hell happened to it? Well, that’s the mystery. Those who remember the town can’t recall any mention of it past the late ’70s. It’s the oddest thing and is often cited as the perfect example of the Mandela Effect.

There were theories about what might have occurred, most of them outlandish and far-fetched. Growing up, I heard stories of mass alien abductions and secret government experiments gone wrong. Honestly, I had no idea of the truth. But I was fascinated by the story of Tartarus from a young age.

During my teenage years, I often asked my parents to borrow the car so I could drive up there and investigate. But Mum and Dad were dead against it, and my father warned there’d be hell to pay if I went against his wishes.

I moved out of state once I turned eighteen, living in the city and making a life for myself. I never forgot about the Tartarian mystery, however, as the legend of the missing town continued to fascinate me.

I only returned home twice in the years that followed—first when my mother passed away, and again when my dad died less than two years later. I stayed for some time after my father’s passing, organizing the funeral and putting his estate in order.

I worked through my grief during this time, but realized I probably would never visit this part of the world again. And so, I decided to take the opportunity to finally visit the fabled site of Tartarus.

I don’t really know what I expected to find out there. It may sound like a cliché, but what I discovered at the cursed location changed my life forever.

I loaded up my father’s pickup truck early that morning, bringing with me supplies and items I thought I might need for my amateur investigation—including a full water tank, a shovel, a metal detector, and a vintage road map from the ’50s which “erroneously” marked the location of Tartarus on the unincorporated western side of the county.

It was a four-hour drive out to the site, most of it along backroads and through flat countryside and endless cornfields. I stopped at a gas station en route, inquiring at the counter about the Tartarian legend.

The younger girl behind the cash register rolled her eyes at the mere mention of the lost town, laughing dismissively while insisting it was nothing more than an old wives’ tale. But as I went to leave, an older man caught up with me at the pumps and gave a very different account.

The old-timer insisted Tartarus was real and that he’d visited the town many times during his youth. But he strongly advised me not to pursue the mystery, and definitely not to travel to the site.

“Some things are beyond our understanding,” he insisted, “and they’re best left that way.”

Perhaps I should have listened to him. But I’d waited so long and needed to discover the truth for myself… and so I drove on.

It wasn’t far after the gas station when I needed to leave the main road and drive down the unmarked throughway that led to the Tartarus site.

The abandoned road was rough, unmaintained, and full of potholes—but it was just about passable. According to my old map, the disused road led through the Dante Hills, across a dried-up riverbed, and ended at the town itself.

There was a problem, however. I was still about a mile and a half from my location when I found it impossible to drive on, as the road had been dug up and was impassable.

By the look of it, somebody had deliberately dug a trench to prevent any vehicles from passing. This was an obvious red flag, and I really should’ve given up on my foolhardy quest, turned around, and driven home.

But I was so close now, less than two miles from the site of the fabled lost town. And so, I got out of the truck and proceeded on foot.

I climbed over the first hill, sweating under the late morning sun but feeling a surge of excitement as I pursued my lifelong obsession.

Next, I strode across the old riverbed, noting a substantial thorn tree that sat in the center of the shallow valley. Finally, I walked up the second hill, following my old map to the letter and truly believing that Tartarus stood on the far side.

My heart raced as the adrenaline pumped through my veins. The anticipation was considerable. But when I reached the top of the hill and looked down, I saw… nothing. Nothing except for an empty grass field where the old road ended. No town, no buildings, or even ruins—no evidence that there was ever a settlement at this location.

I experienced a great disappointment as I walked down the hillside to investigate the field in closer detail, hoping against hope that I’d find some evidence of the lost town. But I found nothing. Not a trace, brick, or stone. No signs of human habitation whatsoever.

I sighed deeply before turning away from the abandoned field and climbing back up the hill. The hot midday sun was right above me now, and I decided to take shelter beneath the mighty thorn tree, lying down against the trunk and taking a large swig from my water bottle.

I sat for several minutes, frustrated at the failure of my quest but enjoying the peace and tranquility of the scene, with nothing but birdsong and the chirps of crickets to interrupt the silence. I remember thinking how grateful I was to have this moment of solitude. I hadn’t found Tartarus, but at least now I knew the truth, and I could rest easy knowing the town was indeed a myth.

I continued to relax under the shade of the tree, but suddenly something unexpected and horrifying occurred. The soil beneath me started to collapse, and my body began to sink into the ground.

* * * * * *

I awoke hours later, apparently in the same spot where I’d started out—back under the thorn tree in that riverbed. The sun had moved in the sky, and when I checked my watch, I discovered it was late in the afternoon. Checking my body, I saw no signs of the roots that had previously wrapped themselves around me.

This made no sense. Had I imagined the entire incident? Was it all a dream? I didn’t want to be here any longer. Something about this place wasn’t right. Pulling myself up on shaking feet, I decided to return to my car and drive home.

But something very weird happened. As soon as I started trekking up the eastern hill, I began to feel light-headed, and then my eyes rolled back and everything went black. A second later, I was back under the damned thorn tree, right where I’d started.

I must have repeated the same ritual five or six times, and the same thing happened on each occasion. Every time I walked halfway up the hill before losing consciousness, only to awaken back at the tree.

I started to panic in that moment, as I didn’t understand what was happening to me. It defied all logic or rational explanation. I physically couldn’t return to my car the way I’d come. It was as if there were an invisible barrier preventing me from proceeding.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I tried to control my anxiety and come up with a new plan. For whatever reason, I couldn’t go east. Perhaps I could walk westward and circle around. And so, this is what I attempted to do.

I climbed over the hill to the west and was relieved when I didn’t pass out. But once I reached the top and looked down, I got the shock of my life. Because I was no longer standing over an empty grass field. Instead, I was observing a small but bustling town, consisting of a large municipal building, a row of tidy stores, and a scattering of houses surrounded by white picket fences—all set along a narrow, paved road.

I could even see people walking up and down the main street—men in jeans and women in summer dresses, all going about their business with seemingly not a care in the world.

For a long moment, I just stood there on the hillside, frozen in shock as I stared down at the impossible settlement. I was nervous and more than a little frightened, but I’ll admit to feeling a surge of excitement—because I’d finally solved the great mystery after all these long years. The town of Tartarus was real, and I’d found it.

Obviously, the whole situation was very bizarre and unnerving. I should’ve proceeded with caution, but my curiosity got the better of me as I slowly walked down the hillside toward the small town.

I was filled with a strange enthusiasm as I strolled along the paved street, closely observing everything around me. What I saw was a tidy and well-kept small town, with electric lamps and flowerpots lining both sides of the road.

There were several stores with neat windows and advertisements for bargains on fresh food and homemade clothes. The whole place looked like a throwback to a previous era, right down to the quaint town hall halfway up the street—a white building with Roman-style columns at its front and an old but carefully maintained flag flapping in the light wind.

There was something quite charming about the little settlement of Tartarus, but I was so awestruck that I missed the obvious warning signs. As I proceeded along the street, the residents stopped whatever they were doing and stared in my direction.

I spotted an old man sitting on a bench, a young girl crossing the street, and a middle-aged woman peering out from the window of her store. Their eyes were all fixed upon me, not with curiosity, but with fear and loathing.

I waved and smiled in an attempt to show I wasn’t a threat, but it only made them angrier. I felt increasingly uncomfortable under all those hostile gazes. Clearly, they saw me as an intruder in their hometown, and I wasn’t welcome.

But it got worse. As I came closer to the town hall, I became aware of a foul smell—something akin to rotting flesh. A cold dread gripped me as I slowly approached the building, looking up to witness a scene of gory horror.

A dead man was hanging beneath the columns, strung up by the neck with a crude sign pinned to his ragged shirt. Clearly, the man had been dead for some time; his skin had turned gray, and buzzards and insects had picked at his rotting flesh.

It was a horrifying and disgusting scene, but perhaps the most chilling detail was the sign attached to his chest, which read, “He broke the rules and paid the price.”

I backed away in revulsion, retching as I resisted the urge to vomit onto the street. I realized then that I was in considerable danger. I needed to get the hell out of this town—but it was already too late, as word of my presence had spread.

I turned to see half a dozen men approaching from the far side of the street, their eyes full of anger and malice. One burly, bald-headed man wore a tan shirt with a sheriff’s badge pinned to his chest and carried a hunting rifle aimed directly at my head. Another four men followed close behind, armed with bats and clubs. The sixth man, perhaps the most disturbing, wore a neat dark suit and had the cold, focused eyes of a predator.

I didn’t attempt to run as the dark-suited man pushed his way to the front of the mob and shouted toward me in a raspy but commanding voice.

“You there! What the hell are you doing in our town?”

I was frozen under his accusatory glare, fearing to speak in case I said the wrong thing. Eventually, I managed to splutter out a reply in what I hoped was a conciliatory tone.

“Sir, I am a visitor from the eastern side of the county. I’ve been searching for your town for some time. I don’t mean any harm.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” the man shot back aggressively. “I am the mayor of Tartarus, and it’s my responsibility to look after the townsfolk. We don’t care for outsiders around here. People like you come in and disrupt the equilibrium. Do you know what I mean?”

I nodded, replying calmly as I tried not to escalate the situation.

“I must apologize, sir,” I said meekly. “Clearly, I made a mistake in coming here.”

I glanced fearfully at the body hanging above the town hall’s front door.

“I’ll get going and leave you good folk in peace.”

The mayor smiled sadistically before muttering his answer.

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the armed men charged forward. I cried out and tried to fight them, but the mob beat me down with their clubs, kicking me to the pavement before dragging my limp body up and frog-marching me toward the town hall.

“Put him in the cells with the other traitor,” the mayor ordered. “We’ll deal with them both in the morning.”

His men complied, dragging me across the street, under the rotting corpse, and into the building. From there, I was taken down into some kind of basement, passing an ominous locked room before arriving at a small, windowless cell. They roughly tossed me inside before slamming and locking the door.

It took me a moment to regain my senses and realize I wasn’t alone in the cell. A young woman emerged from under a blanket—her face pale and drawn, her dark hair a mess of knots. Her eyes were red and puffy; I reckoned she’d been crying uncontrollably for days.

But a spark of hope came into her tired eyes when she saw me, and she sat up, addressing me in an excited voice.

“Who are you? And how did you get here?”

I did my best to explain my situation to the young lady, telling my story and hoping she wouldn’t think I was crazy. But the woman listened to every word with intense interest, waiting until I finished before speaking.

“My name is Laura,” she said. “The body you saw hanging out front—that was my brother, Michael. We were both born and raised in this town. Lived here our whole lives.”

I heard the pain in her words and struggled to respond.

“Why did they kill him?” I eventually asked.

“Because he asked questions,” Laura shot back angrily. “We both did. You see, a long time ago, our town was cut off from the rest of the world. No one knows how exactly, but the beast beneath our feet took control of Tartarus and its people.

“It brought us here to this bubble universe, trapped us, and made sure we could never leave. The mayor and his supporters insist we worship the monster like a god—that we do everything it wants and never question our existence here. Michael and I planned to get out, but we got caught.”

She sighed deeply before continuing.

“Michael always believed there was a link between this place and the outside world, but we could never find it. But you did! The thorn tree—that’s the portal. That’s our way out.”

I shook my head, trying to process the ton of almost unbelievable information I’d just heard.

“But what good does this do us if we’re locked in here?” I asked.

Laura took a deep breath, intensely gripping my hand and looking me directly in the eye.

“We need to escape. I couldn’t do it before, but the two of us have a chance if we work together.”

I frowned, not feeling confident about Laura’s plan.

“It’s very risky,” I said.

“We have to try,” Laura shot back. “Because tomorrow they’re going to hang me, and probably kill you too. The mayor will stop at nothing to maintain the status quo. Escape is our only chance. We have to get across to your world.”

* * * * * *

Several hours passed as we sat waiting to execute our plan. There was no window in our underground cell, but I guessed that day had turned to night. We waited in tense silence, preparing ourselves.

There was one thing I still couldn’t comprehend: what was the “beast below”? Who or what was the monster that had taken control of Tartarus and its people, somehow transporting the entire town to this pocket dimension?

I asked Laura to explain, but she said it was better if I didn’t know—that I should focus instead on our escape.

The opportunity came that evening when the guard arrived with our dinner. I saw the scar-faced, mean-eyed man appear at the cell door, carrying trays of food.

He snarled sadistically and said, “Okay, assholes. Wakey, wakey! It’s time for your last meal.”

I took a deep breath before speaking, hoping the guard was dumb enough to fall for our crude trick.

“The girl is sick,” I said, pointing to the bed. “She hasn’t moved in hours. I think she might be dying!”

“Horseshit!” the guard replied dismissively.

“I’m serious! You need to check on her!” I shouted.

Laura remained motionless under the blankets while the guard groaned, set down the food trays, and reached for his keys.

“You there!” he barked, pointing at me. “Stand against the wall and keep your hands where I can see them.”

I did as ordered, watching carefully as the foul-mouthed guard opened the cell door and made his way to the bed. He grabbed the blanket with his filthy hand, but Laura was ready, springing up and striking the man hard across the nose before throwing the blanket over his head.

“You bitch!” the guard screamed, struggling to regain his sight.

He eventually pulled the blanket off, but I was on top of him, forcing him down to the ground and locking him in a tight chokehold. The guard fought hard, but Laura helped me hold him down, and finally he lost consciousness, lying motionless on the hard floor.

Laura quickly grabbed the keys and baton before rushing to the cell door.

“Come on! We don’t have much time,” she exclaimed.

I followed her out into the corridor as we made for the staircase. But I paused, noticing how a previously locked door was now open. Strange, wet slurping sounds and pained groans echoed from within.

Laura shouted for me to ignore it and continue our escape, but curiosity got the better of me. I’d come so far and taken so many risks. I needed to know the truth about Tartarus.

Slowly and cautiously, I pushed the heavy door open, stepping inside.

Three people lay unconscious inside the windowless room, strapped down to gurneys secured to the concrete floor. They were two women and one man of indeterminable age—pale, thin, and barely alive. But what truly horrified me were the black, snake-like appendages attached to their arms—slimy, thick tentacles draining blood from their motionless bodies.

My jaw dropped in horror as my eyes followed the blood-sucking tentacles downwards, seeing how they emerged from three wide holes dug into the concrete floor. All were presumably connected to a much larger creature lurking below.

I was so shocked and disgusted that I didn’t notice Laura entering the room until she spoke, her voice low and heavy with sorrow.

“I told you not to look,” she said softly. “But at least now you know the truth.”

Suddenly, we heard a third voice from behind us. We swung around in surprise to see the mayor standing in the doorway, covering us with a silver revolver in his right hand.

“Yes, congratulations,” he said sarcastically, glaring at me. “You’ve found the secret of Tartarus. And no doubt you’re disgusted by our actions. But answer me this, stranger: what would you have done in our situation?”

He gestured toward the gurneys.

“The beast beneath our feet keeps our town safe. It keeps the lights on and supplies our food and water. Everything we need is provided, and all we must give in return is… a little bit of ourselves.”

He waved the revolver lazily.

“Not such a bad deal, is it?” he added.

I was left speechless by the terrifying revelation, but Laura angrily stepped forward.

“You’ve allowed your own people to become food for a monster! It’s evil!” she cried.

The mayor snarled in annoyance.

“You’ve caused enough trouble with your dangerous views, young lady. Now, the two of you are going back in the cell. Don’t try anything, or I’ll shoot you where you stand.”

I stared down the barrel of his gun, seeing no way out. But fate intervened.

One of the prisoners—a woman—suddenly stirred, crying out and sitting up on her gurney. The mayor’s attention snapped toward her.

I seized the opportunity, darting forward and grabbing at his gun. The mayor pulled the trigger, but the shot went wide, slamming into the ceiling.

We struggled fiercely. Laura joined in, charging forward with a furious cry and striking the mayor hard on the head with the stolen baton.

The old man crumpled to the ground, blood pouring from a gash on his skull.

“Get his gun!” Laura shouted.

I grabbed the discarded revolver, and together we sprinted for the staircase.

Soon, we burst out of the town hall’s front doors and onto the street, now illuminated by electric lights. Laura took one last mournful glance at her brother’s hanging body—but didn’t dwell. There was nothing we could do for Michael now.

Our escape hadn’t gone unnoticed. I heard townsfolk shouting and the sound of heavy boots pounding the pavement.

But we ignored them. We ran down the street, up the western hillside, into the darkness.

Our frantic dash brought us over the hill and back into the riverbed. I fought to control my panic as I searched the shadows for the thorn tree.

Finally, I found it—looming and twisted against the night sky.

“It’s here!” I cried, dragging Laura toward it.

I didn’t have a magic word to activate the portal. Desperation took over as I stomped wildly on the ground beneath the trunk, shouting in frustration when nothing happened.

The pursuers were almost upon us. I could see their dark silhouettes closing in.

“Damn it! Do something!” Laura screamed.

I didn’t know what else to try.

And then, miraculously, the same process that had brought me here repeated itself—my feet sank into the earth, and the tree’s roots curled around my legs, pulling me down into the soil.

“It’s working! Come on!”

I reached out, grabbing Laura’s hand.

But then came the sharp crack of a rifle.

Laura’s body jerked violently as the bullet tore through her back.

She collapsed into my arms.

* * * * * *

I came to beneath the thorn tree, with the moon shining down upon me. The riverbed was quiet and empty. Our pursuers were gone.

I could only assume we had made it back to my world.

But my relief was short-lived.

When I looked at Laura, I saw the life had left her eyes. She was no longer breathing.

I stayed with her until dawn, cradling her cold body in my arms as I grieved for the young woman. I had only known her for a short time, but I owed her my life. I would never forget her bravery.

There was no way I could explain Laura’s death to the authorities. Her killer was back in the pocket dimension, and Laura had never officially existed in our world.

All I could do was give her a decent burial.

Using the shovel from my truck, I dug a grave on the eastern hillside, just beyond the boundaries of the Tartarian prison she had fought so hard to escape.

I laid her to rest under the rising sun, whispering a silent prayer for her soul.

With the grim task done, I left that cursed place, driving back toward civilization with a story no one would ever believe.

I’ve tried to continue my life and forget about the ugly incident, but it’s proved impossible.

I haven’t been able to sleep since it happened. Every time I close my eyes, I see Michael’s hanging corpse, Laura’s dead eyes, and those vile tentacles leeching the life from innocent victims.

I can’t rest, knowing the evil that still festers on the other side of that gateway.

And I’m the only one who can stop it.

So, I’m going back, back to the thorn tree and over the hillside.

But this time, I’ll be ready. I will arm myself with guns, ammunition, and gas canisters.

Because I’m going to end the nightmare of Tartarus—or die trying.

It’s my destiny.