The Sandman; The Dust Trial

The night Jimmy vanished, Deidre awoke with sand in her mouth.

It wasn't grit but something finer, like dust that had forgotten how to collect in the corners of children’s eyes. She sat upright, heart hammering, sheets twisted around her legs. Moonlight pressed against the window. The room smelled faintly of dust.

She reached for her phone.

No messages. No missed calls.

She checked again.

Jimmy always texted goodnight. Even when tired. Even when angry. Especially then.

She opened their conversation.

Nothing.

Deidre crossed to the window. Snow glazed the street, smooth and unbroken. No footprints. No tyre marks.

Her phone buzzed.

She snatched it from the bed.

Not Jimmy.

Vince.

“Deidre,” he said. “You awake?”

“Yes. What’s wrong?”

“My aunt just came over screaming. Jimmy isn’t in his room.”

Deidre looked at their empty conversation again.

“He wouldn’t leave. Would he, Vince?”

“I don’t think so.”

Vince was Jimmy’s first cousin and one of Deidre’s closest friends. If Jimmy had gone somewhere voluntarily, Vince would know.

“He didn’t answer his phone,” Vince said. “Neither did Mark. Neither did Ella’s younger brother. They’re gone.”

Gone settled heavier than missing.

Deidre slid down the wall. Something brushed her ankle.

Sand.

She jerked her foot back.

“I dreamed about Jimmy last night.”

Vince exhaled. “What happened?”

“He couldn’t move. He was hanging inside something that looked like a cocoon. I could hear him talking to me.”

“Deidre—”

“He told me to look for the Sandman.”

Vince went quiet.

“I know how it sounds. But I had sand in my mouth when I woke up. There was sand in my bed.”

“I thought the Sandman was supposed to make kids sleep.”

“So did I.”

Before they hung up, Deidre checked Jimmy’s messages again.

Still nothing.

By morning, thirteen children and teenagers had disappeared.

Parents whispered behind closed shutters. Shop owners unlocked their doors. Tourism brochures remained stacked beside registers while the town tried to preserve its Bavarian smile.

Deidre checked her phone between classes.

Nothing.

She met Vince at the library during lunch.

“You said they were hanging?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“In sacks?”

“Yes.”

“Caves.”

Deidre already knew.

Leavenworth sat among old tunnels and natural caverns carved long before the town adopted its Alpine appearance. Parents warned their children away from them. Teenagers went anyway.

They asked Mrs. Kline, the librarian, for maps.

“We’re interested in the caves on the mountain,” Vince said.

Mrs. Kline studied them before leading them to a wide chest of drawers.

“Never fold these maps. Never remove them without permission.”

“We’ll copy what we need,” Vince promised.

Dust rose when she opened the drawer.

Deidre covered her mouth.

Mrs. Kline noticed.

Deidre noticed her noticing.

They spread the maps across a table. Lines curled along mountain ridges. Symbols marked cave entrances.

After school, Deidre questioned her history teacher.

“How many cave entrances are there?”

“Some are sealed. Some are mapped. Others are inaccessible to the average hiker. Limestone hollows, basalt fractures, old dig sites.”

“Do maps exist besides the library copies?”

“Parks and Recreation may have more.”

Back at the library, Vince pointed to a hollow near a steep ridge.

“Old rail tunnel.”

“That one floods in spring,” Deidre said. “I camped there a few years ago.”

“Water.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

They marked several possibilities.

“We’ll need rope, lights, food and warm clothes,” Vince said.

“We’ll need sleep.”

“Yeah. Great plan.”

That night, Deidre checked her phone before getting into bed.

Nothing from Jimmy.

She set it beside her pillow.

Checked again.

Nothing.

She cried until exhaustion finally pulled her under.

Cold pressed against her from every direction.

“Deidre.”

Jimmy.

She tried to sit up but couldn’t move.

“I can’t move,” he whispered. “There are more of us. We’re hanging. Whatever happens, don’t touch the dust.”

“Where are you?”

“Under rock. Underground. Water drips here. I can hear it.”

“Jimmy, who took you?”

“The Sandman. He watches you, Deidre. He knows you.”

“Water. You said—”

“Water hurts him. Moonlight shows his trail. Please hurry. I’m getting weak.”

A soft rasp came through the darkness.

Something tall moved beyond Jimmy, its shoulders too narrow, its head tipped at an unnatural angle. Dust drifted from its body and glittered when it crossed the pale light.

Sandman.

Deidre woke choking.

She grabbed her phone.

Nothing.

Then she reached for her notebook and wrote down everything Jimmy had told her.

Vince climbed through her window before dawn. She handed him the notebook.

He read every word.

“Your parents. Have you told them?”

“No.”

“You should.”

“I will.”

“Tonight.”

At dinner, Deidre waited until the plates were nearly empty.

“I need you both to listen.”

Her father stopped reaching for the salt.

“I’ve dreamed about Jimmy for two nights. He talks to me. He told me where to look.”

Her mother stiffened.

“He told me to look for the Sandman.”

Her mother set down her fork.

“Where did you hear that name?”

“In my dream.”

Her father closed his eyes.

“You don’t remember.”

“Remember what?”

“You didn’t sleep when you were little,” her mother said. “You cried every night. You said a man with sand came for you.”

“No. I’d remember that.”

“We made sure you didn’t,” her father said.

Deidre stared at him.

“You were seven. You woke up screaming. You said sand filled your mouth and eyes.”

“You wrapped a belt around your ankle,” her mother said. “You hooked it to the bed frame because you said he couldn’t take you if you anchored yourself.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“You stopped sleeping. You stopped eating. We took you to a counsellor.”

“A counsellor made me forget?”

Her father lowered his eyes.

“He said the fear would destroy you.”

“So you erased it.”

Her mother reached across the table. Deidre pulled away.

“The counsellor told us that every hundred years a child comes along who can resist him,” her father said. “You were that child.”

“What does he want?”

“Energy. Years. Survival.”

“You thought I grew out of it?”

“We hoped.”

Deidre stood.

“Thirteen kids vanished. Jimmy vanished. You knew this could happen.”

“We tried to tell the council years ago. They wanted proof. They were worried about tourism.”

“Tourism.”

“What are you going to do?” her mother asked.

“Find Jimmy.”

“You will not go into those caves alone,” her father said.

“I’m not alone. I have Vince.”

Her father left the room and returned carrying an old leather belt.

Her mother stared at it.

“We kept it.”

Deidre ran her fingers across the cracked leather.

The belt that had once kept the Sandman from taking her.

“I need Vince.”

“Bring him tomorrow,” her father said. “We plan this properly.”

When Vince arrived, Deidre told him everything.

The belt. The counsellor. The erased memories. The hundred-year cycle.

“Jimmy says moonlight shows the Sandman’s trail,” she said. “The dust becomes visible.”

“Then we watch in moonlight.”

They chose three places along the mountain road and rotated shifts. One watched while the other rested.

The first night gave them nothing.

Deidre checked her phone.

The second night gave them an owl and cold feet.

She checked again.

The third night, moonlight caught something moving across the road.

Dust.

Deidre forgot her phone.

The dust glinted when it crossed the light and disappeared again in darkness.

She pointed.

Vince saw it.

They followed.

The trail left the road and entered the trees. It led higher, towards a black opening concealed by brush and shadow.

A cave.

Warm air came from inside.

Vince held up his hand.

Deidre stopped.

A faint rasp came from somewhere within.

Jimmy.

She stepped forward.

Vince caught her arm.

“We don’t go in tonight.”

“Jimmy is in there.”

“And if we go in blind, we join him. We map first. We prepare. Then we bring water.”

Every part of Deidre wanted to keep moving.

She thought of Jimmy hanging in the darkness.

Then she thought of thirteen missing children.

Her hand slipped into her pocket and closed around her phone.

For once, she didn't check it.

She already knew where Jimmy was.

Now she had to bring him home.