Meg and I were newlyweds when we moved into our dream home. Newlyweds that are far too young if you ask her parents. My parents are just surprised I found someone willing to put up with me.
We hadn’t been dating very long before we took the plunge. The attraction was obvious when we met each other. We immediately clicked and had fun together. We were both doing well financially. I guess we just figured, why wait?
We decided to live our lives rather than planning to eventually live our lives. Another thing that made us confident in our marriage is how much we agreed on things like this. We are simply compatible.
So we bought a house. We went straight to our honeymoon after the wedding. We had hired movers to take our things to the new house which would be ready to move into when we returned.We had a wonderful time in South America, visiting several different beautiful places. We joked about staying there and putting the house back on the market. Maybe we should have.
We were bummed that our vacation was over, but excited to see our new house. Just because we were back in the states didn’t mean we were done with vacation. Our first night in our new house was a bit of a blur. Instead of unpacking our things, we got way too drunk as we were still very much in vacation mode. The rest of the night was.. well, private.
The next morning, we both felt like death. It was our first morning in our new home together. Neither of us wanted to get out of bed, but not for the same reasons as vacation. After a spirited debate, it was decided that I would make breakfast.
I stumbled down to the kitchen before realizing that all of our dishes, pans, etc. were still in boxes somewhere. I was still looking for them when Meg came down. She found them immediately.
We started cooking up the little bit of food we had in the fridge. Meg decided she would help me because.. I can’t really cook.
I started wandering around the house, thinking about which things would go where. I pictured what the living room would look like once we get the TV set up. I considered what we might do with the extra rooms. I was most excited about the prospect of building a workshop in the basement.
There was a small mudroom between the kitchen and the basement. The basement stairs look to be in worse shape than the rest of the house. I was about to go down and look around, but the light didn’t turn on when I flipped the switch.
I added lightbulbs to the list of things we need before sitting down to eat breakfast. We were both still feeling rough, but our first breakfast together was an exciting thing for us. We were both very fond of firsts. We had previously discussed that we would never get boring and stop having firsts together. We had been experiencing a lot of them in these few weeks and it was just perfect, despite our violent hangovers.
After breakfast, I volunteered to do the dishes since I didn’t end up cooking. Meg went upstairs to get changed. I was about to finish up the dishes when I heard a noise.It sounded like it was coming from the mudroom. As I approached the top of the basement steps, I heard it more clearly.
“Psst.” Every 20 or 30 seconds I would hear it again. Just a quick little noise that sounded like that noise you make to get someone’s attention. “Psst”.
I started backing away as Meg walked into the mudroom. She quickly noticed the uneasy look on my face and asked what was wrong. I told her to wait and listen, and sure enough we heard it again.
We tried coming up with rational explanations as we listened. Maybe a pipe with a small hole where air is pushing through? Maybe a water pipe?
I continued listening as Meg went to grab her phone. She was in the other room when I heard the next “psst”. It wasn’t the only thing I heard this time though. Immediately after, I swear that I heard a voice whisper “come here”.
I was immediately terrified and ready to call the cops. I went to look for my phone and a battery powered lantern that was boxed up in the living room. Meg came downstairs and I asked her if she would go outside.
She asked me what was wrong. I didn’t want to tell her, but I couldn’t lie to her. I told her about the voice I heard whispering, but she didn’t believe me.
I told her that I was being serious, but she 100% thought that I was messing with her. She suggested that maybe I was hearing the TV upstairs through a vent or something after I kept harping on it.
She started walking toward the mudroom with the flashlight of her phone on. I had just found the box with the lantern in it. I yelled for her to just wait for me as I unpacked it.
I took a quick look around for my phone before remembering it was on the kitchen table. I grabbed the lantern and headed into the kitchen. I felt incredibly uneasy as I walked into the mudroom and didn’t see Meg at the top of the stairs.
She was fearless, and she must have gone down to the basement. I flipped the lantern on and raced down the stairs in a panic, fearing whatever it was I had heard coming from down there.
When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I couldn’t believe what I saw.. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just a wide open empty basement with no windows. A cold, musty, cement room.
I paced along each wall of the basement even though I could see the entirety of it from the bottom of the stairs. As I started walking, I noticed that I hadn’t heard the “psst” sound since walking down the stairs.
I figured Meg must have gone outside rather than down the stairs at first. Then I found her phone.. I didn’t notice it at first because the color is very similar to the floor and blended in.
I felt this dreaded, awful feeling in the pit of my stomach when I noticed that the screen was shattered. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I just saw her with her phone moments prior..
I raced upstairs and ran out the door to see if she was outside. I frantically ran a lap around the house, screaming her name. I ran inside and did the same.
I searched every room of the house multiple times. I continuously screamed her name in a panic as the feeling of dread got worse and worse. There was no sign of her. It was like she vanished into thin air.
I ran back down to the basement. I saw nothing. I began pushing at different parts of the walls looking for some sort of secret pathway that I knew I wouldn’t find. I looked for a vent or any other possible place she could’ve gone, but there simply wasn’t anything there. It was just empty space. There were no hiding spots, no windows, and oddly no recurring psst sound.
I finally had to call the police. I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t make sense of what was happening.I anxiously wallowed in my panic attack as I waited for the police to arrive. I wasn’t sure if I should call her parents yet. Maybe it was some crazy misunderstanding? Maybe I blacked out for some reason? It was like I had lost time. I had seen her less than a minute before she seemingly vanished..
I paced around the kitchen as I waited. My mind was all over the place. Then something happened which sincerely led me to question my own sanity.
I heard the noise again.. “Psst”. I walked over to the top of the stairs and listened. I heard the noise a few more times, in quicker succession than before. And then I heard a voice again.. “Come here”, the voice whispered.
It was different from the previous time I heard it.. I know that because it was Meg’s voice.. I wouldn’t have mistaken my wife’s voice. I knew it was her..
I brought up the flashlight on my phone and ran down the stairs. Again, there was nothing. I was stunned. It felt like someone ripped my heart out of my chest. I know it was her. I know what I heard. She just wasn’t there..
I waited to hear the voice again but once I was downstairs I didn’t hear anything. No whispers, no psst sound.. Nothing.
It was then that I heard a knock at the door. I knew it was the police, but a small part of me just desperately wanted to believe that it was Meg playing a practical joke on me. I knew that wasn’t true though.. I know that I heard her. I know that I heard something or someone else before she went down..
As you can imagine, the police were very skeptical of my story. I knew that the story didn’t make sense, but it’s what happened. I still can’t explain it.
At first, the police assumed that Meg left. They told me that maybe she was freaking out about rushing into marriage. I knew that wasn’t true. They came up with all sorts of different theories that just didn’t make sense. I know my wife. She wouldn’t just run off without saying something.
As I suspected when I called them, the police eventually turned their attention toward me. They questioned my mental health after I told them what had happened. I tried to explain to them that I understood why they’d think that.
They started to wonder if I had done something to Meg. Just the suggestion that I would have makes me crazy.. I love her more than anything in the world. We were so happy..
Days passed and there was no sign of Meg. The police checked up and down the basement but there wasn’t much to see. They searched the property but found nothing of relevance. It was like she just simply vanished..
I blew through my savings pretty quickly over the next few weeks. I hired investigators. I went to meet with anyone who had any sort of theory of what could’ve happened. From criminologist to paranormal investigators. I was willing to try anything.I also retained a lawyer. I was pretty much the only suspect. I knew the cops would come to the conclusion that I had done something and wanted to be prepared for that.
It didn’t really happen though. I started to see a therapist to work through my grief and maybe find out if I was losing my mind. The police never found any evidence or a motive for why I would’ve done anything to Meg, so at this point they haven’t pressed charges.
That didn’t stop the community from coming to their own conclusions. It’s hard to even blame them. Young couple moves into a house, wife disappears.. I get how it looks.
At this point I’d love to move out of the house. I can’t even go into the mud room anymore. I don’t like being there in general. Problem is people in the community know what happened, and the value of the house has plummeted. After all the money I spent trying to find Meg, I’m not financially stable enough to get another place unless I sell this one, which doesn’t seem likely anytime soon..
I’m writing this today because it’s been one year exactly since Meg’s disappearance. The police aren’t actively investigating it anymore. There were simply no leads..The other reason I’m writing this is because something happened today..
Ever since that day, I haven’t heard any noises in the house. No whispers, no voices. Admittedly, I tend to avoid the area of the house near the basement. Just looking at it gives me a feeling of unimaginable dread.
Today was different though. I sat at the kitchen table with a bottle of whiskey. As I drank, I thought back to that first night at the new house. I thought about what things would be like if she was still here..
Maybe we’d be in the process of building a nursery for our incoming child. Maybe it would’ve been twins. Maybe we’d be celebrating one year in our home. Maybe we’d have some candles lit as we ate fast food in a fancy, romantic setting like we used to..
I sobbed as I continued taking nips off the bottle. I looked into the living room where there were still several unpacked boxes from a year prior.. I guess I felt like if I unpacked them, I’d be moving on without Meg.. I just wasn’t ready to do that. I doubt I ever will be.
I eventually stumbled over to the top of the basement stairs. I sat on the floor and stared down into the basement. I continuously took more drinks off the bottle as I thought back to that day.
I don’t know how long I sat there before I heard something. It was my name.. It was Meg’s voice! I couldn’t believe it.
Moments later, I heard her again. What I heard made my heart sink. “Help me,” she cried.
I ran downstairs and looked throughout the basement yet again, there was nothing there. I felt desperate as I called out to her. That I ran back up the stairs trying to think of what I could possibly do. That’s when I heard her again. She just repeated the same things.“Help me.. I’m scared..”
I felt so helpless as I yelled out to her, begging her to tell me where she was or how I could help her. I continuously yelled out to her, hoping she could hear me. Every minute or so I would hear her again say “help me” or “I’m scared.” It felt like my heart was being torn out all over again..
Then I heard something else..“Psst” that familiar sound again. “Psst”.. I heard it four or five times before I heard Meg again.. “Please help me” she cried out, this time sounding even more frightened. The “psst” sound quickly followed.
I continued to yell back, begging her to tell me where she was. I screamed at the top of my lungs, “How do I get to you!? How do I bring you back!?”
Then I heard the other voice whisper “You don’t.. She’s mine now,”
I screamed as a feeling of helplessness and dread flooded in. Moments later, I could hear sobbing.. it was Meg.. I knew it was. It wasn’t long before the sobbing abruptly stopped. After that, I heard nothing..
I repeatedly went into the basement, seeing nothing each time. I began sobbing myself. The feeling of loss and helplessness is unbelievably painful..
I spent the rest of the night at the top of the stairs. I would eventually finish the bottle of whiskey. I waited and hoped that I would hear her again. I didn’t though..
My imagination tortured me as I wondered who or what the other voice was.. The sun began to rise, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Meg could see it. The terror in her voice haunts me..
I can only imagine where she is, what she’s going through..It’s been several hours since I heard the voices. I can only hope that I’ll hear her again.. It’s been a year since the last time though.. All I can do is sit at the top of the stairs everyday and hope..