Has science killed the soul and replaced it with the less romantic notion of consciousness? And this consciousness, is it nothing more than the accumulated awareness stored in an individual's brain so that when the heart stops beating, and the electrical impulses in the brain cease, does the person cease to exist? Or, at the point of death, when the hapless victim shuffles off from this mortal coil does the soul metamorphose into some existential butterfly that transcends to some alternate reality. Or does it become a parasite, finding a new host in some innocent embryonic being.

I never asked myself these questions before the incident. My family were not religious so I was not shackled with concepts of heaven and hell, or burdened by thoughts of reincarnation. We were rational beings who believed in what could be scientifically proven. Everything else was fanciful nonsense. But then something made me question everything.

It all started, when I - no that's not when it started but it's when I -

How do I begin. OK, let's start with the town of Crimpleton. I'm a free lance writer. Mostly I write travelogues but not about exotic places, with paid 5 star accommodations. I write about places that are off the beaten track. More like human interest stories that I sell to local councils to put into getaway magazines. Occasionally, I get stories into those airline magazines. It barely pays the bills but it's interesting work and I get to travel a lot.

So I'm doing a story on abandoned gold mines for a fossicking magazine and I've even managed to talk them into giving me an advance. Most of the places are well known and already get lots of visitors so I decide to visit this little town that's not so well known and as I'm researching, I come across this little town where there was a small gold rush. Well, not so much of a rush because it was over almost before it started but there's some diggings and a few abandoned pits and I think it might make a good story. As I check out the location on Google Maps, I see a picture showing the highway through town. Town might be a bit of an exaggeration. It's really a few shops and a petrol station. The thing is, I've never been there but I know that if I follow that road out of town I'll come to an old weatherboard house. I don't know how I know this but I do. Maybe I've passed through the town without taking much notice of it or maybe I'm wrong and there is no house on the way out of town. At any rate, I put this out of my mind.

Even that's not correct. I push it out of my conscious mind. At least that's what I thought at the time because that's when I started having these dreams. At first, nothing more than a recollection of something. You know how it is with dreams. You wake up clutching the sheets, your heart pounding, your body paralysed with fear and you know you've had a nightmare. The details however are sketchy. All I remembered was the darkness. Darkness and the damp.

I'm not superstitious and I'm not religious as I told you so these nightmares come with increasing frequency until the week before my trip to Crimpleton, I'm having them every night.

It's a 5 hour drive from Melbourne to Crimpleton and I was exhausted before I started. The season was changing and the days were getting shorter which also didn't make the trip any easier. To stay awake I kept stopping for coffee or at least a rest break by the side of the road. Looking back, I think I was avoiding the town because the closer I got, the more breaks I took so that by the time I reached the outskirts it was late and I had my high beams on so I could even follow the road.

I'm dragging myself into town, eyelids drooping and I feel like I have to keep slapping my face to stay awake. The road winds through heavily wooded areas so although there's a full moon, it's not shedding any of its light on this dark and foreboding road. I glance at my gps to see how much farther it is, when something darts out onto the road. I hit the brakes and the backed of my car swerves wildly. I pull the steering wheel hard and the backed swings in the opposite direction sending me straight towards a big gum. I swing the wheel again as the car slows its forward motion but continues sideways. By the time everything stops moving, I'm facing back the way I came, my lights showing me the way home.

Now I was pretty shaken at this point, and I have to pry my fingers loose from the steering wheel. Except for the stretch of road lit by my lights, I'm surrounded in darkness so I'm composing myself and staring at the road illuminated by my lights and that's when I see something lying on the ground off to the side of the road.

My heart which had almost returned to normal starts racing all over again because what I see is a teddy bear. Its laying on the ground next to the post of an old mail box. Now, you can probably imagine what's going on in my head. My eyes sweep the area but it's only that one accusing object sitting there trapped in my headlights.

Cautiously I swing my door open and climb out. My body doesn't want to do as I ask. I admit that I half expected to see the body of a child and I did scour but there was nothing on the road except the skid marks. I hadn't felt the car hit anything but I walked to the bumper and checked for dents. Nothing. I called out but the only answer was the echo of my voice and the soft purring of my car as it idled.

Then as I gave the area one last survey, I saw the house. The weatherboards were in need of paint and the yard was overgrown but I recognised it immediately. I knew this house. It was the one that I had known would be sitting on the side of the road heading out of town.

I was exhausted from my trip and still shaken by my near miss. Although by now I was thinking it must have been a kangaroo so I got back in my cat. Behind the wheel again, I took one last look around as I put the car in gear. Then it struck me and I put my foot on the head and looked again. It was gone. There was nothing on the side of the road. The teddy bear that had caught my eye was gone.

I made it to the motel I'd booked into and skipping dinner went straight to bed but my sleep, if you could call it that, was troubled. Whereas the nightmares that had plagued me since I decided to come to Crimpleton had been fought with fear, now that I was here, they left me feeling anxious in a different way. How can I describe it?

Imagine you're a fox, hiding in the bushes, waiting for a hare. What's that feeling? Anticipation. But there was something else. In my dream i was waiting for something but at the same time I was dreading it. I sat up with a start only to see bright sunlight streaming into the room.

A quick shower washed away the remnants of my dream and stepping out from my room I was confronted by a blast of heat. Away from the protective cover of the forest, the town of Crimpleton was exposed to the unrelenting power of the sun. I put on my hat and opened up the car to let it breath before setting off. A dark shadow attached itself to me and although I knew it was a distorted image of myself I felt menace in its form. Chiding myself for letting my imagination run away with itself, I got in my car and followed signs to the old mining area.

The place, once bustling with hopeful prospectors was now a deserted park. Follow8ng the marked gravel paths led through the ruins of miners huts, I stopped to take pictures, including signs describing the mini goldrush that started when a farmer following the old river bed picked up a decent sized gold nugget. As the afternoon sun beat down, I sheltered in the shade of a mullock heap. Lots of gold hunters love to run their metal detectors over these man-made heaps of loose rock on the off chance that they'll find a bit of gold overlooked by the original prospectors.

Pulling my bottle of water from my shoulder bag, I took a couple of deep drinks then poured a bit on my head. As I leant over, the drops splattered on the ground forming a small puddle in the pinkish clay. I capped my bottle but as I went to put it back in my bag, I was startled to see how the water appeared dark red. It must be a trick of the light, I thought but the more I stared the more it spread. Dark red rivulets snaked around my boots and staining the bottoms black.

Don't ask me why but the sight created a flash of memory. Nothing clear. Like seeing an image illuminated by a strobe light. And it wasn't one image. It was a succession of images so that I felt nauseous and disoriented. I've heard that dehydration can cause hallucinations and I thought I might be suffering from sun stroke. Slowly my knees crumpled from under me. I was on my hands and knees, fingers in the red stained mud, heart pounding and my chest heaving like I'd done a 50 meter dash when someone touched my shoulder.

I think I cried out. Maybe I jumped. I'm not sure but I was on my feet, backing up against the mound when I saw the look of concern on the intruders face. To say I felt foolish would be an understatement.

"Are you OK?" asked the young man.

Eager to appear normal, I brushed the dust and bits of pebble from my knees.

"I think I got a bit of sun stroke and stumbled but I'm fine now."

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

That phrase made me start and I studied the man's face.

"You're as white as a sheet," he continued.

"Probably been in the sun too long," I replied.

"The sun's a killer out here." Then added, "Are you from the city?'

"Yes, Melbourne," I said as I picked up my bag. Straightening up, I was hit again with a flash. This time the image was clearer and I was looking through a grate or a metal fence. I stumbled and the man caught my arm.

"I think you need to get out of this sun. Are you parked in the lot?"

I must have nodded or mumbled something because the man started leading me back along the path. He was telling me his name I think and asking me mine when I doubled over and vomited.

"That's a sure sign of sun stroke. We'd better get you out of this heat."

I stumbled along, feeling like a child as he pulled me along, chattering in a comforting way. The path led back to the car park which was empty except for my car and one other.

"Is this your car?" He said letting go of my arm and placing his hand on the door latch.

Another flash. This time it was a hand, a different hand opening a car door. The car wasn't my car. It was big and heavy like the kind you see in movies from the 50s.

"Are you going to be alright to drive?"

I wasn't sure how to answer.

"There's a Cafe back on the main road. How about I drive you there. We get a cup of tea and then I'll bring you back to your car when you're feeling better."

I think I nodded my head weakly, then stumbled after my new companion. I was holding my bag in my hand as I followed him when I had the sensation of someone holding my hand. I looked down and I could swear I saw the top of a young girls head. Maybe 5 or 6 and her hand was in mine. In her other hand was a teddy bear dragging on the ground.

"I'll take that," said the man taking the girl's hand.

"No," I said, loath to let go.

"No problem. I was going to put it in the car."

When he said that I felt foolish and held my bag out for him to take.

Over tea, he explained that he worked at the local police station.

"Are you a policeman," I asked, suddenly feeling uneasy. Why I don't know.

"Actually, I'm here installing a new computer system." He proceeded to explain the new software while I sipped my tea. I was starting to feel better.

"So you're not from here?" I asked.

"I used to be. My parents were born here and I started school in the one room school up the road. This is the first time I've been back in years."

Then he asked why I was in town and I explained about the article for the fossicking magazine.

"The way you were studying that mullock heap, I thought you might be one of those true crime writers."

This piqued my interest.

"Why did you think that?"

"Well old gold diggings aren't nearly as interesting as an unsolved crime."

"And what crime might that be?"

"It's a real cold case now but back in the early 60s, long before either of us was born, a little girl went missing. They searched the diggings but never found her. Someone remembered a strange car drive through town but they didn't see a little girl in it. Of course, she could have been tied up in the back seat or shoved in the trunk. I guess we'll never know."

My hand shook, spilling tea. Quickly I mopped up the spill.

"Still a bit shaky?"

"No. I'm much better now. In fact, would you mind taking me back to my car. I think it's been quite a day and I'll go back to the motel and get some rest."

The dream came again but it was becoming more vivid. I was in the yard, next to the mail box looking at the weather board house on the edge of town. I was sitting or kneeling down because the mail box was above me and there in front of me was the teddy bear. Someone was sobbing and the sobbing became a whine. I wanted the noise to stop so I reached for the teddy bear but as my fingers took hold, it was something hard and unforgiving not something soft and comforting i felt. I opened my eyes and discovered that it was my phone I'd grabbed onto and it's alarm was screaming at me to wake up.

What was it about that house that house and what did the teddy bear have to do anything. I tried googling cold cases Crimpleton but nothing came up. Had I read something, maybe encountered the tale in some article I'd consciously forgotten about? It was a mystery but not one I was likely to solve if the police at the time had been unable to figure out so I decided to finish my research and get as far from this town as possible. I had the disturbing feeling that I was running away but I put that down to fatigue I now associated with this town.

I decided to walk to the Cafe, hoping it would clear my head. As I sauntered down what was left of the town, I could feel the unseasonable heat rising. It was going to be another hot day. Staying on the shady side of the street, I stopped occasionally to take a picture of interesting buildings; an old bank turned into a tourist shop, a closed and shuttered bakery that wouldn't have looked out of place with a horse and buggy out front. It was a town that had not aged gracefully. I aimed my phone's camera at a building that had the word Surgery carved in stone above the door but as I zoomed in on the entrance I saw the word Histoeical Society. Was it my assignment that drew me in or my curiosity?

Inside was dark and cool. Two display cases dominated the center of what would have been the waiting room. A large yellow circular object with a hole in the middle displayed a request for a donation. I dropped a gold coin on the edge and watched it slide round and round, moving faster and faster as it approached the hole. It spun on the rim of that orifice several times before it landed inside with a thud.

Casually I checked out the contents on display. They consisted of what appeared to be domestic items left behind by those that had fled the town for better futures, presumably in Melbourne. Against the back wall, an architrave suggested a closed off room but the door had been removed so I walked through.

"Interested in the town's history, are you."

The voice startled me.

"I'm the owner of the historical society,", said the wizened old man, laughing ar his own joke. "Got a camera for a brain. Photographic. Go on. Ask me anything. Anything about Crimpton that is. Never been anywhere else."

I hesitated then said, "What do you know about the girl that went missing."

"Back in 1955. That the one? Must be cause there haven't been any others. Her name was Ruby. Ruby Ann Dodds. Her family lived in the old weatherboard on the edge of town near the diggings. I was not much older when she went missing but I wasn't old enough to join the hunt, officially that is. But I was the one that found her cuddly.

Cuddly? I asked.

You know the little teddy bear she took with her everywhere. Everyone assumed she'd wandered into the diggings and had fallen down some mine shaft so that's where they all searched.

And where did you find this cuddly?

It was not far from her home. It was stuck in the tall grass next to the mail box. Guess no one thought to check there. Here, I'll show you the write up.

The old man walked over to a scrap book and flipped through the pages. Yep, here it is.

It was a clipping from a newspaper, as yellowed and wrinkled as the finger that pointed to the article but it wasn't the words that caught my attention. There on the same cutting was a picture of a teddy bear and it was as familiar to me as it'll it had been my own. Even looking at the photo I could feel it's worn coat, threads showing through in spots. I felt it slip from my hand, even as I heard the old man's voice say, "That's when they decided she'd been abducted. Never found her or her remains.

The room felt dark, claustrophobic and I needed to get air. I thanked the man and tried my best not to run but I was desperate to escape what now felt like a prison.

Outside, the heat hit me and I leaned against the brick wall. Images of the town assaulted me, not as it was but as it had been. A farmer pushed past me throwing a bag of feed into the back of a ute that i would have mistaken foe a classic, it looked so well kept. As the truck pylled away i noticed the big car parked across the street and my heart skipped a beat. I knew that car in the same way i knew that there would be a weatherboard house on the edge of town with a mailbox out front. I knew the interior was beige in the same way i knew the teddy was thread barw. I knew the trunck was big and dark. How did I know that?

A hand tapped my shoulder and I was standing outside the surgery staring at an empty street.

"Feeling better?'

I recognised the voice from the day before.

"You might think I'm crazy I said, and the smile on the man's face turned serious. But I think that I know something about the missing girl. The girl Ruby, I stammered.

He incited me to walk over to the police station with him.

"Did you find something in the diggings, he inquired.

No it's nothing substantial as all that and then I explained about the dreams and the visions I'd been having.

Ever had this happen to you before he inquired. I mean you're not like a medium or anything are you.

No I laughed at the incongruity feeling foolish at the incongruity of it all. I stood up saying maybe it's just sun stroke but the young man asked for details of the car. I sat back down describing the black exterior with its 4 doors. I described the beige dash and its steering wheel even recalling the Madonna statute on the dash.

It was so detailed that he stared at me and said, i don't suppose you remember the registration.

Without thinking I rattled off the letters and numbers.

How did I know that? I asked.

Leave it with me he said and then asked how he could get in touch with me.

I didn't stay long in Crimpleton after that. I hurried back to Melbouren, finished my article and went on my next assignment which was overseas. I found a message waiting for me when I returned. Constable Perkins from crimpleton asked me to call him. I don't know why but I felt wary as if I'd done something wrong. I chided myself and keyed in the number.

In a few rings I heard a woman's voice say Constable Pwrkins. I gave her my name and she was all excitement then. We found the name of the owner of that car you described.

I wasn't sure what to say. I felt as if a rope was tightening around my neck

Yes I replied.

It turns out the owner in 1950 was picked up in 1962 for abduction and murder of another girl from a town east of Melbourne. No one asked him about Ruby but it seems pretty obvious that he was responsible for her abduction as well.

I don't suppose he's still alive locked up in some prison.

No such luck. The death penalty wasn't outlawed until 1985. He was hanged for the murder of that little girl.

So now we'll never know for sure, I mumbled.

Actually, I was wondering if you would do something for us or rather for her mother who's still alive.

Anything I blurted out.

I'd like you to undergo hypnosis. Call it regression therapy if you like but either the ghost of that little girl was contacting you or–

You think I'm the little girl –

There have been other cases. The question hung in the air.

The constable added, You don't have to do it, it's just that the mother is 97 and well if you could give her some closure.

I won't bore you with the details of that session. I was able to give that poor woman the closure she needed. I told her how her little girl died. I told her where her xhild's bones lay. But in giving her that information, I was sentenced all over again. I'd already died once for murdering a child. How many more lifetimes will I now suffer with that knowledge of the crime I committed all those years ago.