“X marks the spot Dorian, x marks the spot.” That was when he woke up screaming, the words still ringing in his ear.

“Dorian, Dorian…what’s wrong?” His mom said as she came running into the room. Throwing his arms around her he hugged her as she sat on the bed. Through his sobs he told her about his dream.

“It’s all right honey, your dad’s fine. He’s in the bedroom sleeping. He’s had a rough day, digging that ditch in the back field took a lot out of him.”

“He’s fine?” Dorian asked as he pulled away.

“Yes, he’s sleeping. Now, go back to sleep.” Kissing him good night she got up and left. Turning over he closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep but the nightmare vision wouldn’t go away. Half an hour later he was asleep and this time his dreams were good.


Couple days he was outside playing in the yard, with the garden trowel he had borrowed from his mother, digging into the dirt. He was building holes and little roads in the dirt that he could push his hot wheels through. He let his eight-year-old imagination run, the holes and small little ditches in the ground suddenly became a thriving city. He played outside most of the day, the warm autumn sun beating down on him. He could see his mother in the kitchen fixing supper, his father was in the backfield digging the ditch for the run off from the small pond. Dorian didn’t know why but his father had moved the ditch farther south from where he had been digging two days ago. Dorian tried to forget about that day, but the look on his father’s face as he walked up to the house that evening was burned into his mind. The look in his dads eyes, or he should say the lack of the look in his eyes, was what scared him the most. His dad had always been so caring, so loving towards him but since that night there had been something wrong. He had been distant, withdrawn and Dorian knew that wasn’t anything like his father.

He watched as his father dug away at the ground, shovels of dirt flew through the air in a rhythmic motion, down, up and then airborne, down, up and then airborne. Dorian was getting lost in the rhythm when one of his tunnels collapsed on his hand and snapped him back to reality. He pulled his hand out and tried to rebuild the tunnel when his mother came to the door.

“Mike, Dorian, dinner.” Getting to his feet he brushed the dirt off and ran inside.


That night he dreamt about a man following him around. Everywhere he went the man was right behind him, whispering.

“X marks the spot Dorian. X marks the spot.” He would run away. Dodge through open doorways, run down stairs but the man was always right behind him. Opening up a door he ran out into the fading sunlight and there in the middle of the field was a huge ‘x’ with a shovel next to it.

“X marks the spot.” The voice whispered again. Walking over to the x he picked up the shovel and began digging.
He never got to finish digging; he woke up before he got very far. That morning he had breakfast and talked to his father. His father was becoming more and more like himself but Dorian could see that the look in his eyes was still gone. He didn’t know what it meant, probably nothing but he couldn’t help but feel uneasy about it. Putting his plate in the sink he went outside and began construction on a bigger, better city. He was digging for about ten minutes when he heard the voice again.

“X marks the spot Dorian.”

“Who said that?” He said standing up. Looking around he scanned the yard for whoever had said it. The only person he could see was his father walking out to the field and he was to far away for Dorian to have heard him even if it was him.

“X marks the spot.” The voice seemed to come from behind him; turning around he searched the yard facing the pond. Right there next to the pond was a bare spot on the ground. Seeing something in the dirt he walked over to it. As he stared down at the spot he could see that it wasn’t all bare, there was some grass here and there. Looking at it more closely he could barely make a design that the grass had made. It was a x. It was barely there but it was a x. Running back to his city he picked his trowel and ran back to the x, sitting down he began to dig into the dirt. After a few seconds he saw something in the hole reflecting the light. Digging it out he wiped off the dirt and stared at the coin in his hand.

“A 1904 silver dollar.” Slipping the coin into his pocket he went back to his city and began building.


Three years later he was walking along the road in front of his house when the voice whispered in his ear.

“X marks the spot Dorian.”

“Yeah, I know.” He said. He had gotten use to hearing the sentence over the years. It seemed like every week or so he would hear it and find something. From the silver dollar to an old Indian arrowhead to an old rusted revolver. Most of it had been useless but every once in awhile he would find something cool. He had come to realize that the bigger the x then the better the object was. Once, when he was walking in the woods, he heard the voice and just happened to look up. There in the treetops was a x; the branches had grown in a weird formation allowing for the x to form. Only it wasn’t the x he was interested in, it was the plane that was caught in the branches. From the rust and the holes in the side of it he guessed it had been there a while. The only thing that bothered him about it was that he couldn’t read the writing on the side of the plane. It was in a language that he had never seen. Running back to the house he got his father and showed him the plane..

“My God! You know what that is Dorian?”

“An airplane.” He said.

“Not just a plane, that’s German writing on the side. You see the crooked cross looking thing?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s called a swastika, It’s a Nazi symbol. This plane is from WW11.” He stood there as his father climbed the tree, climbing along a branch he tried to open the cockpit but the plane was upside down and it was proving to difficult to get to. Just when he was about to give up he hit the side of the glass and it popped open. The body of the pilot fell to the ground in front of Dorian.

“You all right son?”

“Yeah.” He said as he leaned over the dead body. “Hey look dad, his shirts got one of those suckers on it.”

“Suckers?” His dad said as he dropped to the ground.

“Yeah, those crooked cross things.”

“Ohh.” He said and then began laughing. “It’s a swastika son, not a sucker.” Shaking his head he bent down and began to go through the dead pilot’s things. “Let’s see what we can find shall we. Has to be a reason you were all the way over here?” Opening the old satchel that was at the pilot’s side he saw why he was here. Inside was a wad of money, all hundreds, as well as a pile of documents. Flipping through them Mike saw that they were mostly maps of Europe with areas marked on it.

“Allied forces, allied forces, allied forces.” He said as he read the map, his finger marking every spot along the West Coast of Europe. “These are maps of the D-Day invasion.” He said to himself.

Dorian didn’t know what his dad was talking about and he really didn’t know what was going on when men in black suits pulled in the drive and talked to his father. He watched as his father handed them the papers and maps that they had found and took them back to where the plane was, a few days later it was gone. The only thing his father hadn’t told them about was the money and about a months later he took them all for a ride in their new car.

Looking down the road and then into the trees he tried to find the x but there wasn’t any he could see.

“X marks the spot.” The voice had seemed like it came from in the woods this time. Leaving the road he walked into the woods. About four hundred feet in he came across the x on the ground. This time it wasn’t grass or light that made it but it was sticks. Branches had fallen out of the trees onto the ground in a x formation. Using a stick he began to dig into the dirt. It wasn’t hard; the ground for some reason had already been dug up recently. The dirt had been thrown back in the hole and left alone. It wasn’t even packed down. After a few minutes of digging he felt his stick hit something. Brushing the dirt way he jumped back and screamed. There in the pile was what was left of an arm. It looked to have been cut off from the rest of the body. Running back home he told his parents and they called the police. He had seen a dead body before but the pilot had been all dried up and was mostly nothing but bones. This was just different. And it scared him.

The body was that of a girl who had gone missing a few weeks back. Dorian never knew if they caught the girl’s killer or not but that was the last time he heard the voice for another twenty years.


Dorian was thirty-one years old when his parents died in a car crash. Married, with an eight-year-old he and his family had moved into his old house. The place had brought back memories, good and bad but he couldn’t make himself sell the place. Memories are memories; they make you what you are.
They had lived there for about a month when he heard the voice again.

“X marks the spot Dorian.” The sun was going down on the horizon but its light still casted a shadow on the barn and the cross that had been mounted on the top ever since he could remember. There in the backfield, the cross made an x on the ground. The largest one he had ever seen. Taking a shovel out of the barn he ran out to the field and began digging. The sun was almost totally down when his shovel struck something. Wiping the dirt off he sat there and stared at what looked like an old coffin. It was made of wood with chains wrapped around it. The chains were locked with an old lock that still had the key in it.

“Wonder what’s in here?” He said as he turned the key. Pulling the chains off he lifted the lid. Inside was a body, one that he had seen before.

“Dad?” He said as he tried to get to his feet. “It can’t be.” Suddenly his father’s eyes opened.

“Dorian.” He said. “You’ve come.” Reaching out he grabbed his son and pulled him into the coffin, sinking his teeth into his neck.
After he fed he put Dorian’s body into the coffin and closed it. Locking it back he began to fill in the hole. Walking into the barn he stared at the old mirror that was mounted on the wall. Dorian’s face stared back at him and he smiled. Walking back to the house he went inside, showered and went to bed.


“Mommy.” Billy said as he walked up to his mother.

“Yeah baby?”

“What’s wrong with daddy?”

“Nothing, why?” She said as she dried the dishes.

“He looks different.”

“He’s just tired.”

“His eyes look funny.”

“Your daddy just needs some sleep. It’s been a hard time for him since grandma and grandpa died.” She said as she knelt down to him.

“Maybe.”

“He’ll be all right, you’ll see. Now go get your jammies on, it’s time for bed.”

Giving her a hug he ran into his bedroom and changed clothes. That night he dreamt about a man following him and a big x on the ground.