Ever since I was a kid I had a long standing fascination with the woods surrounding my seaside city. I never really understood the depths or the danger but, the pure freedom to act like my favorite characters from tv in almost complete isolation was always alluring. I think I was about ten when I stopped playing in the woods. The details aren’t very clear in my brain but I do remember how it started and the feeling of when it ended. You might have seen a picture of a little kid somewhere on the internet all bruised up with a bulged thousand yard stare and a forced smile. I always tell my wife I could never escape the paparazzi and that was true from the age of ten. I was asked hundreds of thousands of time what happened in those woods and I just couldn’t put it into words or descriptions that made sense or, it might of been that my little brain worked very hard to lock those memories some place they wouldn’t be found. All I could remember was being found until, half a year ago.
I am a writer; of mainly novels describing disappearances of those deep in the woods. I willingly gather information from family members that can relate to my childhood story and use police recounts along, with search and rescue officer memos. Usually these touchy subjects are hard to deal with in a way that doesn’t feel exploitative but, after sharing my stories and my experiences in the woods they open up to me like I’m a priest in confessional. I only spread information in hopes that parents will be more careful in the miles and miles of woods that make up a hefty amount of America. I will however spare more graphic details in respect to the families.
I had been going through a rough patch in my writing late December and I wasn’t able to work on my latest collection. That was until I got an email from what appeared to be a concerned parent in the midst of an ongoing investigation. The message read;
“Dear Alex,
We need to meet, my oldest daughter has recently gone missing in —— canyon and I would appreciate you coming down and running over facts with me and my youngest. I would appreciate any help at this point and I feel your experiences may bring to light some details. We need our angel home.
,Marissa”
Usually I am the one contacting parents of children who have gone missing years after the actual event has occurred. This Marissa wanted me to meet during the midst of an investigation. To add to the strangeness of this event the canyon was located in my hometown. I dragged my finger over to the keyboard anticipating what I was going to say next but, some feeling had taken hold of me and next thing I know I was on a flight back home. I hadn’t been back there for nearly ten years and the thought was killing me. My sweat stuck to the leather seat of the plane as I went to the bathroom to relieve myself. I figured I’d take one of my pills to hopefully bring me to a calmer state.
I opened my jacket pocket pulled out a bag of anxiety pills and popped one dry. I returned to my seat still panicking and my mind was brought back to that day in the woods. I thought back to the bright lights cutting through the trees, the voices calling my name, and the warm embrace of the kind officer who pulled me to my feet. Something was missing though and it soon began to gnaw at my mind. Ripping apart my consciousness, brute forcing its way to the deepest darkest parts of my brain. The plane started to sway in the rough winds and my focus was ripped away from me. An announcement from the pilot dissected my train of thought right down the middle and then it was gone. Not just the experience but all my anxiety as well. I leaned back in my seat put on my headphones and proceeded to drift away.
I was in the air surrounded by crows. Gliding in the wind. The murder began to dive towards the earth and I followed suit. The air pierced through my feathers like a knife. I felt cold not just in my body but my soul. Soon I noticed the vast amount of trees underneath us as we pulled up in time to have a nice view of the forest below us. A storm started to set in on the horizon as a gust of wind dragged me away from my family. It’s hand gripping my entire being as I was dragged into the depths of trees I was once above. I lay there in the dirt viewing the speckled sky ahead. When I was able to gain my bearings I hopped to my feet and looked around. That’s when it came into my sight. A road that was too rough to be called a road winded it’s way down the trees ahead of me except something was wrong.
I lifted up off the ground and onto a surrounding tree branch and gazed upon this path. Its dirt was pummeled at least a foot deep into where the land surrounding it was. Splintered and smashed sideways trees adorned every side. Their tilt was unnatural almost caving into some greater force moving as one as it barreled through them. I soon began to make my way over the path as I began to see individual claw marks decorating the road. Something shiny caught my eye and as I drew close I recoiled in horror as I spotted a small entire fingernail blackened and coated in fresh blood. I swooped onwards doing my best to repress my investigation from my mind. I continued to wind down the road as I was soon met with a sole embedded within the soil. I dug my beak into the ground and with some struggle was able to flip it. As soon as it was unearthed a twinkle of lights came from the heel. I had a found a shoe but, not just any shoe it was one that lit up when movement was detected; one that a child might wear. I continued my flight and soon came to a dead end. I looked around, nothing but vegetation and more trees were in sight.