Worst story ever written-The Keystone

Worst story ever written-The Keystone

I was going to post a letter to match yesterday’s poem but I would have to rewrite that letter from a copy. Fortunately for you my dear reader, I have things to do today.

I wrote this awful story years ago. I screwed it up by writing in first person and third person. The true story was so awful that I can’t read it without reliving the nightmare. I can’t bring myself to fix my awful mistakes. I sent a copy to Melania Trump because she helps hurting women. I always thought that was kind of her. This will be all that I post this week because it is such a horrific true story. Years ago, I shared it on Disqus-the old Disqus. Some perv at the time told me that it turned him on. It sickened me to my core so much that I deleted it.  My sister read it and approved it. She needed to read it to heal. She kept the truth more bottled up inside her than me. This one event changed who I was and who my sister was. I was a little girl who became a woman in one event not of her choosing. This is one of the reasons that I fight bullies and pervs. Please forgive me for sharing a true story that happened 51 years ago.  This case was never solved but the guilty one was eventually caught. I hold a lot of guilt over not remembering the license plate number because I could have saved all those women’s lives.  Enjoy this true story.

The Keystone stories.

Terror © Donna Rae Lands


It’s a gorgeous spring morning with the rays of the sun shine gleaming down upon the two young girls as they were walking along the sidewalk carrying their newspaper bags. A blue sedan approaches the young girls and rolls down the passenger window to speak to them. The car faces south on Ivory Street just a block below United Paints located on Sprague Avenue.

“Hey you girls need some help”?

The area that Faith and Grace are walking is located a short distance from the prostitution district in SE Spokane. This was and is one of the worst areas of Spokane to this day but they have the oldest and best meat market around in the whole city. No pun intended. It’s an area where many women in the years to come would meet Robert Yates the infamous serial killer of Spokane. Its 1970, a time when the world believed bad, horrific and terrifying things did not happen to innocent young girls. The world and the girls would soon be surprised that there are evil and heinous people that do exist.

Faith is eight years old and in the third grade. She is petite, scrawny and skinny for her age. She has long straight auburn hair parted down the middle. A lot of girls wore their hair in this traditional style of the early 1970’s. She and her sister Grace are forced to help with the paper routes to help bring extra money into the house because their Dad was a major alcoholic who spent all the household money at the bar. He developed this pattern that puts him before their mom and the six children of the household. Being poor can be temporary in most cases, but making yourself poorer so you can have your fun while making your wife and children suffer is abominable, selfish and despicable.

Grace is the older ten year old sister who is supposed to be the leader and protector. Normally she looks out for her baby sister but on this day they trade places. Faith was always called the baby sister of their disarrayed family. Grace was tall for her age, slender with long dark thick hair parted down the middle also. Grace and Faith always played together, worked together and acted together as a well-oiled machine. They were the best of friends and playmates. They were each other’s comforter. They were like fraternal twins but in linear time they were two and one half years apart. They could read each other’s faces, thoughts and even finished each other’s sentences. It’s that way to this very day.

They share this deep dark secret that forever will change their lives. They suffered and laughed together just about every day of their childhood with each other. It was their joy.

Grace peers through the window with Faith standing below and behind her. Faith listened to their exchange.

“Na we don’t need yawl help.” “We’s done with our paper route and we’s goin meet our dad.” They both have strong southern twangs in their voices. They had moved from South Carolina the spring of 1969. Their mom was from Georgia and they naturally had picked up their southern twang from their mama’s side of the family. The school system in Spokane insisted they talked funny and they had speech therapy for the next six or seven years. It was taught out of them.

Faith tugged at Grace, “Let’s go on our way.” This guy gave Faith the creeps. There was something dark, wicked and evil that her young intuition told her to fear. She did not trust his smug smile. He was in his twenty’s with dark wavy hair and he was very nicely dressed. To truly describe him you would have to say he is the spitting image of Ted Bundy. At the time they had no idea who Ted Bundy was. Grace pushed Faith away and kept talking to the man.

Ted says smiling with all his debonair, suave and charming ways,” I could just give you girls a ride to meet your Dad. How about that”?

Grace then said, “Okay”.

Faith grabbed Grace’s arm and whispered with a demanding and insistent voice, “No Grace, It is only two blocks! We don’t need this ride from this stranger, we can walk it. Please Grace, No… I don’t want to go with this man”!

Without hesitation, Grace glares at Faith and says, “Well I am going to get a ride because I am tired and cold and we can just wait in the car until Dad gets here. Faith you can stay here or go with me.” Ted had already swung open the passenger door. The trap of inducement had begun.

The only thought going through her little eight year old brain head was, “f*ck oh f*ck, why are you doing this? Faith you can’t let your sister go alone”. Little eight year girls cuss inside their heads. Grace was climbing in the car before Faith could react to her thoughts. She had no choice but to go. She climbed in beside her sister.

The hunter had started his thrill for the kill. The hunter had snapped up his prey. He had in his sinister evil mind the plan of this tormenting, evil and immoral game of shame. It had begun! Ted drives south and does not turn around in the direction they were supposed to meet their Dad. He’s driving too fast and the wrong away. Her thoughts race super-fast back and forth like electricity across a fence. Oh my God he’s stealing, kidnapping and sweeping them out of their secure location. Her head starts swimming and her heart grasps her chest with a bone clinching fear. Fear like she had never known in her short eight years of life. Her whole ninety six months of living was being clutched away before her very eyes. Faith thinks, “I could reach for the door handle, I could just jump out but then the next thought races through her little, young and undeveloped brain, how could my sister escape? I can’t jump without Grace. I can’t leave my sister”.

“Get down on the fucking floor and put your paper bags on your heads! I don’t want to fucking hear a word from you girls or I am going to fucking kill you! You are to do everything I say or you will be dead”!

His demands jolted Faith to earth and to reality. She started praying in her head because she couldn’t believe this terror could be happening but it was. She thinks, “I can’t stop this. I am only eight years old God. Please, please God I am too young to die. I don’t want to die this way. I don’t want my sister to die. Please God ooh please God don’t let us die, Please rescue us”. Grace and Faith were so frightened, terrified and literally scared to death. The sounds of our tears were of fear driven wailing which left us uncontrollably crying under our bags.

“Shut up! Stop fucking crying! I haven’t even started to hurt you yet”!


The word is a forewarning of what is to become. The thought of the word is frightening because your mind imagines all the terrible things that could happen, would happen or can happen but it comes full circle to the essence of one word. The word is yet.


Her life starts flashing through her mind. She can’t breathe, her heart is thumping in her chest and she feels like it will explode at that very moment with this unsalable fear. It was the drowning sensation. Her thoughts run back to when she was three years old. Her thoughts wander back to the drowning.

The day is another beautiful spring day in the countryside in Surrey County England. The trees are in their full bloom and ever so quickly the leaves whistle their whispering song with each sweeping breeze. It is a breeze that takes your breath away. The smell of freshness fills you up to the core.

Grace and Faith are excited this lovely spring day. They have been invited to the next door neighbor’s house to see her pond filled with her orange goldfish and lily pads. Faith had never seen a pond before. Faith was only three years old. How many three year olds had ever ventured near a pond? It was an adventure that she would soon never forget.

The neighbor was a grandmotherly English lady of style and sophistication who we had met at our house on more than one occasion. She held our hands as we walked near her pond in her country English backyard. It had steps that led into a serene clear pond with the mucky bottom which you could see all the orange fish. The thought was fishes. There were so many and they sparkled like orange beautiful gold to the girls. Grandma English looked at the girls and asked, “Would you girls like some tea and crumpets”?

All excited the girls clapped their hands and jumped up and down and yelling, “Yes, yes oh yes”!

“Come along then, let’s go into the house”.

Then Faith had thoughts of “Oh but I just want to look at the fishes just for a little longer because they are the prettiest things I have ever seen in my whole life”, and she blurts out the thought as she was thinking it.

“Honey you can look at the fish but you must promise me you will not go down the steps into the pond. You could slip and fall”.

Faith responds, “I promise”. Faith thinks I don’t know what a promise is and I just want you to go away so I can touch those pretty fishes. I just want to touch one fish. Grandma English and Grace started walking towards the house while Faith stood at the ponds edge right above the steps leading into the pond. She waved at Grace as she and Mrs. English opened the back door that led into the English white cottage with blue trim. As soon as they were out of sight, Faith had her plan in place one step at a time. The thought was just one step very carefully and then I can touch the fish. I will ever so carefully and firmly plant my feet on the pretty green slimy steps. Here I go. I placed my right foot first, then my left foot. Wow the water is only ankle deep and that is safe I thought. This ain’t so bad so let’s go for the second step. Same process happens on the second step except now the water is almost to my knees. Still safe so maybe I can squat and grab a fish. My feet then slipped on the slimy steps and before I knew it I was in the pond and I was slipping further into the pond. The water was swirling all around me. It was as if I was in a vortex of swirling water. I realized I was drowning. What do I do is my next thought. I see grass and I instinctually reached for it and tried to grab it. It slipped through my baby fingers. Please God help me. I can’t breathe and I started seeing a tunnel where only the sun was in the center of the vortex of water. Then I felt a lift and push and I saw blades of grass sticking through. I then grabbed it. To my surprise I now got a handful of grass blades. Then all of sudden I was climbing unto the side of the pond furthest from the steps. I was coughing and chocking up water as I laid spread eagle on top of the yard above the pond. I was slimy and I had lily pads in my hair. I was alive though. “Thank you God”!

Then reality hits you back to the terror of the moment. The car stopped. Faith listens to the noise outside her bag. The car has stopped and the engine is off. Ted says: “Don’t you dare peek outside your paper bag. I haven’t decided what I am going to do with you cry babies! If you peek, I will know and I will kill you”! The car door opens and shuts. Ted walks to the front and lifts up the hood. Now is the moment to lock the doors or escape. Faith slowly gets out from under the bag ever so quietly. Over the dash she sees Ted walking back and forth in front of the car. He then stops in front of the car as he seems to be looking at the engine but then he looks straight at Faith. They make eye contact and she sees him slam the hood and then walks around towards the driver’s door. Faith sees a building like a forest service building. “Oh my God he saw me; he is going to kill me now. Hurry and hide back under my bag. Maybe he will forget he saw me. He opens the door, slams the door and then deafening silence of his ensuing “yet” was about to come to fruition. “I want the older girl to get up here now! Hurry up “! Grace scrambles to her horrifying moment of terror. Faith just trembles as she hears her sister scramble and scream. The screams of pure pain and torture echo throughout the car and in her ears. Grace described later to Faith what happened. Ted held her down, slapped her, ripped her panties down and spread her legs and tried to force his hard erect adult male penis into her tiny underdeveloped vagina. He could not enter her and got frustrated because the sex could not happen. “You are a fucking little screaming cunt. Now get back under the bag. Trade places with your sister”. “Sir please I beg you not harm my baby sister”, Grace pleaded.

Ted then says with his cold cruel voice, “Don’t argue with me and do as I say or I will kill you and do what I want”.

Faith knew her moment was to come and she lifted the bag and made eye contact and grabbed her sister’s hand and with streams of tears running down her little face they trade places. Ted had started the car. He put the car in reverse as Faith sat there trembling wondering if she should still try to escape. She looked around to see where she was. She had never been here before. Years later she would find it. She sat there and cried for hour’s years later when she was able to let go of the long held pain. It was on the South Hill near the Dishman area. They started traveling down a steep hill when Ted looked over at the young baby and said to her. “I want you to come over here and suck my cock like your sucking a lollipop. I want you to suck it like your life depends on it”.  Faith thought, “Well that doesn’t sound as painful as what happened to Grace and I can do that. I can maybe save our lives if I do everything he says”. Faith then placed her mouth over the grown man’s cock and went to town. She sucked it as hard and far as her little mouth could handle. The legal name for what little Faith was forced to do is called sodomy. After about five minutes or so Ted says to Faith. “In a moment there will be this white stuff coming out and you are to swallow it. Don’t you dare spit it out or I will stab you and your sister to death”. Then his ejaculate filled up in her mouth. It was the most awful thing she had ever tasted and one drop slipped. It was if that one drop ever so slowly floated down through the still air of fear that was in this torture chamber. Time stopped and for the briefest of a flash she concentrated and watched that drop with fear as it hit his pants. Her thought was now for sure she would die because one drop had landed on his pants. She took her little hand and rubbed it off his leg. She then said, “I am sorry sir I made you bleed, that stuff”.

He started laughing.

They came to a stop right at the corner of Altamont and 2nd avenue. Ted says, “I am going to drop you off and when I do, you better take off running. I will drive around the block and come back. If you are not gone then I will kill you.  He then turned right two blocks later and then a left on Pacific Avenue. He then drove past a building on the right. He stopped and told us to get out of the car. We didn’t run. We stood there and watched the boogieman drive away. As he drove away west on Pacific Avenue I the Faith in this terror story looked at his license plate over and over until he was out of site. I then turned around and it was gone. It was as if an eraser wiped the numbers and letters away right out of the chalkboard of my mind. We made contact with our father on the next street. He took us to the hospital and the police were called. It was agony to go over and over what had transpired. One little blurb in the Newspaper back then. I recall the Policemen were very kind and caring. There was no healing back then. We were told to forget it. Sweep it under the carpet. Where do you go when your eight years old to heal? The deepest hole is the gutters of hell and my misfortune was I had just been thrown in there. My innocence was stolen by the boogieman guardian of hell. It was not of my choosing.  Where do you go to get to the mountaintop of God’s heavenly love when your pain is that immense? You are reminded every day of the fear because your dad and the newspaper did nothing to protect you and they still allowed you to deliver newspapers after this horrible ordeal? I started trying to heal the best way I knew how. I went to church, prayed and sought out God. This was not the worst of my scars of defilement. Being scarred so the whole world could see would happen ten months later


%d bloggers like this: