“This place has it own Force. Indeed, Force would be the correct word. It is difficult to use any other word to describe it. It is everywhere. In towns and in the forest. On the fields, in air and land. The locals have been soaked through and through with this Force. They are either given it along as they are born or it seeps into them during childhood. And the locals notice nothing. For them, life is ordinary. Nothing special really. And the greatest danger in the forest is a mother wolf or a mother bear with cubs.

Of course, one could see all sorts of things in the forest. Things that are weird, unexplainable or even frightening. Even the old folk has collected hundreds and perhaps thousands of tales from every corner of the country, maybe even more from the big wide world. But these errant experiences and apparitions are never truly dangerous. They haven’t been in the past and they aren’t in the present. A whole other matter concerns one actively going to look for or invoking something dangerous, but that’s a story much longer and more complicated.”

Allan Helde had held his show on the radio of the Nameless Town for years now. Even before the local tradesman fixed the phonographs and one could again play music off vinyl records. Hearing this, the locals had even arranged a collection and gathered most surviving vinyl records to populate the record library so Allan could play them on the air as often as possible. And during those years of presenting his show, Allan Helde has come to a vision how best to hold interviews and later put them on the air.

“However in those not from here, there is none of that Force. And they do see that something is wrong. Something unexplainable. The air is different. The earth is different. Everywhere where there are people, it is safe. Where there are no people it is not safe. Not even during daytime, never mind nights. On abandoned fields people lose their sense of direction. It is possible to get lost in the forest. The roads sometimes lead to places other than those marked onto the maps. In some places, which seem to move in time, there is no fauna. No sounds of birds, no insects, not even ants and beetles between plants. Never mind cottage districts, bases and blocks and blocks of barracks.

“This is the reason the Russians, all the while they were here, behaved strangely. They had been given orders from up high that they should live in their parallel worlds. Their own base, their own campuses, their own barracks. For safety reasons, contact with the locals was kept to a minimum. Although it was similar everywhere, here there was an insurmountable bay between them and the locals, instead of some small divide. Even if a simple soldiers sitting on a lower rung had no idea at first, they would quickly learn that the locals were somehow different.

“The superiors knew of course. They most certainly did. The were aware of both the Force as well as that the world here was strange. And that the world had been strange long before they had arrived here and established themselves. Partially this was the reason to come here. In Russia there were also place where the world was strange, but all these places were so far from all civilizations and also each other that alternatives were taken under consideration.

“However when they finally arrived, they discovered that something was different. Similar regions in their own country did not tolerate humankind. It didn’t matter whether it was a person from some other extent of the Soviet Union or a local Joe who had gone hunting in the forest, both were in equal amount of danger that they would be lost forever, or at the very least for a long period of time. Or they would return scared out of their mind with no memory what had happened. But here things were different. For the Russians it was dangerous here, especially at night. But for the locals all was normal.

“That’s the strangest. There was an old story I found that during the fifties, some village Joe went into the forest to gather some mushrooms. He happened to get too close to the base area and was detained by two soldiers on a patrol. They started to drag him towards the nearest guard post when suddenly the soldiers were gone. As the villager had learned as a young kid that strange things might happen in the forest, he simply went home. The next morning he was awoken by a militsiya officer accompanied by agents of the local KGB, who wanted to know why and even more how he had given a slip to the base soldiers. According to them, they had been dragging the man towards their sentry post when their attention was directed to something else and then they realized that the villager was gone.

“This was something that on the one hand they could never understand, and on the other hand the locals could not understand. That for the locals, night was night as usual, darkness was the lack of light. But for the Russians, darkness was like a substance unto its own, like a dark invisible fog, which was able to disperse the light of the most powerful spotlights and make them totally useless. But the locals had no need for powerful searchlights or even ordinary flashlights. A candle or an oil lantern was often enough. A moonlit night was enough. Even cloudy or rainy fall or winter nights were not pitch dark.

“This reminds me of a story Igor Volke once collected, but which has always felt too unbelievable to publish. Sometime in the eighties, a local guy was employed at Luiga. Usually, locals only came to the hospital for medical tests, but since he had been a combat medic in Afganistan, he was considered valuable. Well, he finished his evening shift and handed it over to his colleague when the latter wanted to go to the restroom. The guy thought that extending his watch fifteen minutes off the clock was not a big deal and agreed. As the colleague was away, he decided to have a smoke. Since it was strictly prohibited to smoke in the building, he closed the office door, shut the light and opened the window. Now, either at that moment he did not remember or he never knew it at all, but opening any windows during the night was prohibited even more more strictly than smoking. But at that moment the young man was not thinking about it. It had just been raining and the after rain freshness was something to be experienced. So that’s what he did.

“Almost at the same time, one of the night shift doctors passed the hallway. He saw that the door to the sentry room was closed, the light off, and the small window in the door black as coal. Opening the door, they found the room so dark that he could see neither the walls nor the floor. He could only sense cool fresh air and see how, despite the bright lights, the hallway was now getting dim. He tried the light switch by the door, but clicking it made no different. Through the dark substance they could see some distant dim source of light turning on and off but that was all. Naturally the doctor sounded the alarm and in a few months several strong orderlies, head doctor of the night shift and even the soldiers guarding the hospital were present.

“By that time, the colleague was also back from the head and he was ordered to remain at the door, clicking the light on and off. As the hospital had prepare for such events, the soldiers rolled a huge electric spotlight to the doorway which was so wide as to barely fit in it. This was connected straight to the industrial outlet. The searchlight came on, blinding everybody but within a few seconds, its light output decreased to a level of a small incandescent flashlight. In the hallway, the light blinded everybody, in the room, it illuminated nothing,

“The witness reports all say the same thing: the head doctor, the orderlies and the soldiers searched the room for fifteen minutes, finding nothing. No smoking young man, no open window, not even way back to leave the office. Never mind that once anybody entered the barely 15 square meter room, they lost all contact with other people. Not even yelling in a loud voice was of any use.”

“And then what happened?” Allan Helde asked.

“The account of the young man who had smoked was even more interesting. He wrote that he had just lit the cigarette when he heard the alarm, but as it was faint and full of echo, he thought it was in some other section and he could continue smoking in peace. All this time the window was open and he did not see no orderlies, soldiers nor the head doctor. He heard nothing but the faint wind outside and the rain dripping from the eaves.

“When he had finished his cigarette, he closed the window and started towards the doorway to switch on the light. However suddenly somebody did it for him and scared him half to death. Suddenly the light was on, the searchlight made him blind, and the room was full of people, some of whom where directing their assault rifles at him. Despite the interrogations lasting for a few weeks, this was his final account and it did not change even if he was threatened with being shot or when his family members were threatened.”

“That is quite a story.” Allan said.

“Indeed.” Toomas agreed. “The other thing that the Russians never understood was how the Force became part of people. Reportedly that was the true reason for building a new wing in Luiga, to research into that under the guise of routine medical checkups. How was it possible for the locals that everything was fine? How was it possible that the Estonians, Latvians and even borderside Russians brought here, at first they were like the military men. The had no Force. But as they lived, worked and acted here among people, the Force was also infused into them. Maybe to a lesser extent than for locals, but it had.

And that indeed was the crux that the military never realized. The Russians did not interact with the locals much. They had their own barracks, their own bases, their own construction and scientific facilities, their own officer’s village. The only thing they had in common was that their food was sourced from the local kolkhoz. But that was definitely not enough.

And to be honest, I think we see this kind of infusion or possession by the Force today as well. Just like one of the Village Hags told a few shows ago about the strange young people who have brought along their weird cars and weird music, which seems to originate as if from the childhood dreams of those same old folks.”

“And you as well.” Allan said.

“And me as well.” Agent Toomas agreed. “I am not a local, but also I am no longer a stranger. People have accepted the me-me-me, and it would seem the Force as well.”

“Me-me-me? That is a deliberate term, right? And not a some speech impediment?”

“Yes. Me-me-me is a trinity of subjective being. At first it was only a theory of mine, but the longer I have spent looking it to stuff in this place, the more it seems to me that it is also correct in practice.”

Toomas fell silent for a few moments and Allan gave him a nod for him to continue elaborating on it.

“The first ‘me’ is an aware me. My thinking, a mental field built on my five senses. We think that our senses feel the world in it’s full entirety, but really we experience only a small section of it. If the force had not accepted this me, my experience would not be dissimilar from the Russian’s experience in that Luiga case.

“The second me is the physical me. My body, my senses and brain as physical organs.

“The third me could be considered as something metaphysical. In could be seen as a path or trail left behind onto some metaphysical dimensional field by my existence, being, moving and activities. Influences I leave behind on the world and other people. You and the other villagers experience me as a regular person, right? And not as a dream, a phantasm, an apparition or a witch. My research has shown that this is not universal.

“Some people who have arrived here from outside are not in the same positions as the others, both locals and the newcomers. They are not able to associate with the locals regularly, and under the same conditions as the rest. They walk the same streets, frequent the same locales, but nobody sees them in real life, nobody remembers them. Their influence upon the world is not permanent but fades before anybody even notices it.”

“That is an unexpected detail.” Allan said. “Are you meaning to tell our listeners that there are people in the Nameless Town, whom we do not see as people, because they do not have enough force within them and the world is not letting us see or treat them as people?”

“Yes, exactly. He may stand right beside you. He may visit your radio talk show, the interview may even be aired and in the best of cases even a recording maybe left behind. But you will not remember it. And if that wasn’t enough, the accounts of the listeners who heard the transmission also diverge concerning when he was on the radio, who he was and when the show took place. Maybe radically.”

“May this also be the reason why I recently had a strange occurrence with one of my radio guests?”

“I wanted to get to that. This is the one strange thing I have not yet understood. There is also another scale by which the difference of Force in people may differ. Some people may have much more of it than others, on average. More than other locals. And it seems to be something to be attained knowingly and deliberately.”

“Like that girl in black?” Allan asked.

“Yes. Marianne was her name, I guess.” Toomas said.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

“But continuing on this Force, have you personally experienced it?”

“I have. I am one of those people who formerly had none of this force within me, but by now it has imbued itself within me. When I came here at first, I was a stranger. I started to feel it long before I even got here, when crossing the county line. Or it may have even been the old parish line.

“In any case, I felt it already on the road. At one moment, the concrete was replaced with macadam. Dark night without a single source of light grew even darker, it developed a pressure. Headlights which had illuminated the road far ahead, almost to the next turn, were now suddenly useless, showing barely 30 meters ahead on the road. But there was no fog, rather, it felt like the headlights of the car had suddenly become covered with something that had a quality of diffusing the light. Just like in that story I later remembered and finally understood.

“I even felt the change in the forest around me. It was no longer just a dark nighttime forest. Instead it had become something terrifying, something scary. A place one should never venture into. My apprehensions started to lift only as I finally glimpsed the lights of the Nameless Town and that radio tower.”

“And already the next day after arriving, you went to the Forbidden Forest?”

“Yes. But the Forbidden Forest is much less consternating compared to the other forests surrounding this place. Maybe some kind of turning or an inversion has taken place as time went by.”

“In what sense?” Allan asked.

“Turning in a sense that during the Soviet Era, the forests were full of Russians and their bases. At the same time, the forest and the mysteries within were most dangerous for the Russians themselves. At the same time, the locals did not see it like it. To them, the Forbidden Forest was forbidden mostly because of the occupying force within.”

“But is it also not that the forest also turned dangerous for the locals?” Allan asked. “Partly because of the evil which started nesting inside the forest, as if it had taken possession of it. But on the other hand also because to fight evil the forest had to become evil and dangerous?”

“The way Marianne makes sense of things often surprises and captivates me. But I am not able to relate to such an intuitive or even mythological way of sensing the world. Personification of things and phenomena, mixing magic and mythology with para-scientific technology.”

“Are you saying that Mariann is wrong?”

“Not that. But her way of giving meaning is different.”

“But, you too said that the forest is consternating and frightening. Is that also not personification?”

“No. The forest is not a conscious actor here. It just is. And a feeling a rises within me. Maybe a similar feeling has also risen in other people and I am trying to make sense of why that is. But as I said before, the Forbidden Forest was forbidden because of the occupying power within it. And later it continued to be forbidden because although the foreign power had left, all their garbage still remained. But that is all they left behind.

“But if we are talking about the other forests, then that’s a completely different story. The Russians did not just leave behind their garbage, ruins, and a defiled landscape but also some kind of bad energy. Bad aura. Something that has slowly grown and mutated, threatening both the Russians and others. And this is not just some aetherial or spiritual aura. Marianne has repeatedly said that the world is twisted out of shape. That the Russians built not only nuclear missile bases and secret air fields but also research laboratories which tried to research all the unexplainable and unscientific with scientific methods, as well as influence and make use of it. Thus the blackened energy in the forests is not just spiritual and organic but also technological.

“I cannot make any guesses by which mechanism such a spirit has made it into nature. Did nature record all of it? Did the experiments the Russians carried out on the proper order of the world break something and open a gate for the transference of such energy? Or did their experiments awaken something which had been slumbering all this time? In any case, it is a fact that before their arrival, the forests were relatively mundane.”

“So the Forbidden Forest is somehow special?”

“Undoubtedly. When I think back to my interviews with the village folk, then the Forbidden Forest was not forbidden to the adults. It was forbidden to the children and the strangers. To the new and inexperienced. The old could gather berries and mushrooms with little worry, unafraid of anything. Other than the barbed wire fence of the military base of course.”

“I too have heard it.” Allan agreed. “I was also told during childhood that I must never go to the Forbidden Forest. Not during the day, not in the night. But nobody never said why. Now, when I am older, nobody has still explained why. There is clearly some chasm between generations here. Usually the old folks knew the most, but with the war, occupation and deportations the villages were emptied, the oldest and the wisest often had the frailest health and they died without passing on their knowledge. The young of that era only knew disjointed stories from childhood and there is nothing practical left to be passed on to us and to people even younger.”

“I agree that some kind of information has not been handed over from one generation to the next. And maybe it hasn’t even been acquired. Because One can still find people who were middle-aged in the 1930s and managed to survive the deportations because the powers that be considered their families meaningless. Our own village hags, for example. For decades they have told their tales but nobody listens. Maybe only those few who knit these stories into that rock music of theirs.”

“What you are saying is quite interesting, especially considering that more than one of those village hags I have asked to join my show for an interview has asked one of those songs of honestly deafening music to be played. And when they and the audience have finished listening to it, then they start with their tales, as if the music or the lyrics growled has knocked some memories loose.”

“Exactly! But those interviews of mine reveal something else that you and your listeners may not be aware of.” Toomas said.

“The Forbidden Forest is not at all some big or thick forest. Only about 2 kilometers across, diagonally. A field on one side, military bases on two other sides, and a bog on the third. But if one were to believe old village grandmas there are numerous secret places hidden within said forest. And also dozens upon dozens of stories how some villager or an acquaintance of said villager has said something strange in the forest. I think I gathered like 40 such stories. One more surprising than the previous. In addition to that, the things I have seen for myself.”

“I am also familiar with those stories, although I have not focused on them as deeply.” Allan said. “However as much as I can remember, everybody who had something strange happen to them also survived the event. No person has died because of such an event. None have also become lost in the forest or frozen off their fingers, toes, hands or feet.”

“That is true. Although some have met their end later. But those few usually brought something they shouldn’t have along from the forest. Be it an unexploded artillery shell, or strange metals vats or cans lying on the forest floor. And I also have a theory why that is.”

“I and all my listeners are waiting expectantly.”

“I think there is a third force hidden in the Forbidden Forest. That force has shown people all those strange things or has at least made it possible for the people to see them. And this force wants no ill to come to people. I think this same force has also protected the forest fro the dark energy the Russians left behind here or brought to life here. It has been a hard and prolonged fight, but this unknown force is winning the war. This force is indeed so powerful that it not only resists that old dark power nesting in other forests but also that newer dark power, carried by those men in those impeccable black cars and suits.”

“You are talking about those strange men in black, right? Those that the locals call the Slick Boys from the North?”

“Yes. And they are not ‘just like’ the Men in Black. They seem to be the most genuine Men in Black I have ever seen. Stiff and emotionless, with piercing eyes and strange gait, not even mentioning their clumsy moves.”

“And these theories are by Igor Volke?” Allan asked. “Because what you are talking about sounds a few degrees more extreme that what he has written about in his books and articles.”

“They are part Volke’s theories, part my own.” Toomas admitted. “But the original source interviews have been collected by him. However before I came here, we thought all these stories sounded a little too god to be true, like a really really good artificial mythology. But now...”

“Why isn’t Igor Volke himself coming here to gather and analyze people’s accounts?” Allan asked. “And are you here as his replacement?”

“No there is nothing official like this in here. And if you ask why am I here and not him? Because I wanted to come. Me and Volke, we work with the same materials, just that his conclusions are a lot more reserved than mine. On the other hand, he thinks I am too naive, and tend to interpret the facts in such a way as to invent my own story.”

“And is he right?” Allan asked.

“Honestly? Yes. But that’s in the past. That was the right opinion up until I crossed to border into the Lost County.”

“But still. Why isn’t Volke himself coming here? His decades of experience in researching unexplainable atmospheric phenomena could be put to lots of use.”

“It could.” Toomas agreed. “But that would not be enough. I am of position that what’s going on here is much more complicated and intricate than just UFOs. This requires a different experience and a different approach. And concerning why Igor Volke himself does not come here… I think he is afraid.”

“He’s afraid?” What is there to be afraid in the Nameless Town?”

“That should he come here he will not want to leave. Or he will not be able to leave. Life outside the Lost County is different than within it. People are different. They are always busy, they never have time. There is always something that needs doing. They want to travel and see the world. To go everywhere. But not here. The people here are content with their lives. This could be seen as something that is wrong with people, and lots of places outside also share that vision. But it could also be seen as something that is right with people. And that is something to be fearful of.”

“Then outside, in the so-called Big World, they have such an understanding of our little corner of the world here? A skewed understanding like that?” Allan asked.

“I agree that this is strange. Strange, when looking at it from this side as well as the side over there. But this too has a reason. During the years hundreds of people have gone towards the Lost County. All of them have become lost, none have returned. Where are they then? I refuse to believe that across Tontla, the Nameless Town and Valgepalõ there are a total of a thousand people who have immigrated here. Some rare one have returned too, but they have had nothing useful to say. Not about how life goes on in this place not about how they got here or how they left. And that lack of knowledge is scary.”

“So, you say that nobody has left the Lost County?” Allan asked.

“I did not say that.” Toomas replied. “Don’t many people drive big old foreign cars? The likes of which neither the kolkhoz premiers nor members of the Politburo had access to. Some of the younger folk have visited the North, usually to bring newer cars for themselves. Sometimes one doesn’t even have to go that far to do it. I think Marianne has often gone outside and come back. However those that visit the outside world don’t usually give notice of themselves. They also do not share with others what they have done or seen in the external world.”

“But tell us, how did you get here?” Allan asked.

“I drove. Along a country route. From the outside, the Lost County looks a little like a black hole. It means that people who come here are considered lost when looking at it from the outside. But there are plenty of those who have come close to the border, slid along it, and then escaped it’s pull and managed to get away. There was a couple like that who remembered what happened to them, where and when it happened. They directed me to a three kilometer section of an old railway dam in the middle of the forests. The rails had long since been removed and the dam had been made into a hiking path. But if one were to drive on that dam at night, at the right time and at the right speed, then it was possible that for a few moments, rails would reappear under the car wheels and then also disappear. And it did not happen on a single night only. It happened on several nights in a row. And when one returned to the same place during daytime, or even when one walked that section during the night, one could not find the smallest sign of the rails or the railroad ties there. Nothing that would have made steering the car impossible.”

“So you drove along the dam and stopped when the rails appeared on the dam?” Allan asked.

“Nope. Because along with the rails, the train also appeared on the dam, and I drove the car off the dam into a swampy forest. When I got out of the car and climbed back onto the dam, the rails were still there. I think my car is still there, stuck in mud beside the dam.”

“And where is such a rail road dam located? If you can reveal this at all.”

“In Valgejärve bog, near Valga.”

“In our show today you have cast light on many interesting things. Are you not afraid that it could damage you and your efforts in some way? Or bring danger to you from the Men in Black, Mariann or even mr. Volke himself?”

“It is possible, but I do not believe it for some reason. What I do believe is that if I said something people should not hear then that part of the conversation will be lost as noise in the radio signal and it will also not be recorded onto the tapes.”

“Would such a thing also be connected with the Force you mentioned before? When you talked about the trinity of being?”

“No, not with the Force. The Force is something different, something natural. It is possible that nothing happens. But if something does, then that gives right to another errant thought which may even turn out to be true.”

“And that would be?” Allan asked.

“That there exists another force which does not want the information how the Lost County looks from the outside or how the Big World relates to us to propagate. Marianne has most certainly talked about how there are no proper maps which have both our lost county and the external world marked on it. This may be deliberate and not incidental. And Marianne must certainly have her own theories why this is.

“The “Lost County” itself however is also a designation originating from the external world. Because form somewhere, there appeared documents and incomplete maps which pointed to the land of Pechori, but also not quite. But I am not an expert in that, I think Marianne would be a much better a person to invite to the studio.”

“I will take it under consideration. But, Toomas, I thank you for coming to my studio. It was very interesting to hear ideas about our region that are a little closer to science and the common knowledge of the land folk. But also the vision of a person that has come from outside this place and that people there too are seriously looking into what is going on in here. I thank you again, Toomas.”

“And now, my listeners, some music.”

Agent Toomas took of his headphones and the microphone. He then got up.

“I think we should continue this conversation at some time.” Allan Helde said. “After that girl in black, Mariann, has also been to the studio. Maybe also after the Mayor and the rest have revealed what happened at the witch.”

“Certainly.” Toomas agreed. “I also have to continue my research. So we would have something to talk about.”

“Very good. Let’s wait for a few months then and discuss it again.”

Toomas left the studio and soon found himself in a cool and cloudless summer night. Only faint wind wandered the derelict streets.

Then suddenly he heard the words that made him flinch. And not only that. He had been certain that he was alone, but those words and that voice immediately chilled him to the core.

“Wa-wa-wa-what?!” he asked.

“I said that you should be careful.” The girl in black said, as she leaned against a concrete post near the entrance. “With what you say and share in the open.”

“Why?”

“Because I have been where you are. I have known unbelievable things, unable to contain myself with revealing the truth. Believe me, you do not want to be in my place. It is a bit like Cassandra’s Nightmare. You know the truth, but nobody believes your truth. You do not have the language to say it out in it’s complete entirety. You have to skirt it in short sections while speaking in riddles that others would not end up in your position.”

“Are you saying that this is why you have these stories and theories? That’s why you are not telling the straight truth about why and how things have ended up like this?!”

“I do not want to say anything that I am not saying straight up.” The girl replied. “That is just a friendly recommendation. You can ignore it. Honestly I would have nothing against having an assistant, to whom I don’t have explain things as if I was a witch. Then maybe we could actually do something about what’s going on, and not just document things in our stories. In the end, the decision is yours. And one other thing. My name is Mariann. Not Marianne. ‘Night.”

Toomas looked on how the girl in black pushed herself away from the post and then started calmly walking down the street towards the West until he could no longer see her in the dark.