I'm Missing
Not in the stereotypical way, or at least not yet. I didn't run away from home to crash at a friend's place, and I didn't flee to a new city for a fresh start. It all started when I heard knocking echo through my apartment and made the mistake of looking.
Peering through the peephole, I saw three figures in pressed black suits filling the hallway.
One of them raised his head, snapping it sharply like a puppet on strings, and smiled directly at me. It was a perfect, practiced smile that never reached his eyes.
I stumbled back from the door, my heart pounding against my ribs. That was the moment I knew it was time to disappear.
There was only one thing they could be here for. The old VHS tape I had picked up from an underground auction site.
I had taken it because of the mysterious vibe it gave off and the chance to turn it into content for my little corner of the internet: Internet Mysteries with Hazel.
My voice explored strange tales, such as lost media, haunted rumors, and local legends.
It was all supposed to be just entertainment. Even the name "Hazel" was a lie. My real name is Issy, but I wouldn't trust just anyone with that. My videos were meant to be intriguing, but harmless too.
This one was supposed to be the same. I thought the tape might contain something quirky. Maybe it was an obscure recording of a local ghost story or some strange piece of lost cartoon media my subscribers could help identify. Then the men came. It was obvious they weren't police. They didn't show badges or make any demands, but the way they loomed near my door and scanned my building sent a chill through me. Something about them felt official. Later, I would realize they were with the UN Council.
The knock came again, harder this time, rattling the doorframe. My chest tightened as the peephole view replayed in my mind. The three men in suits. The one with the unsettling smile. My instincts screamed at me to move. I grabbed the VHS tape and my phone, flicked off the lights, and pressed myself against the wall, letting the silence settle around me.
The sound of scratching metal sent a cold wave through me. My apartment's cheap deadbolt never stood a chance. It clicked open.
I ducked low, crawling into the shadow of my couch, my heart pounding in my ears. The door creaked open, and heavy footsteps entered.
One. Two.
I strained to hear the third, but the apartment remained silent. He was still outside, waiting.
Biting my lip, I fought the urge to panic. I could see the two shadows moving across the living room floor. I held my breath. The air was so still, it felt like even the dust dared not move.
The men scanned the room in unsettling synchronization, their polished shoes silent on the hardwood floor.
There was no time to grab my laptop upstairs and too much noise to call for help.
My only chance was the door. The man outside was a risk I had to take.
The moment the two men stepped away from the sofa, I bolted.
I didn't look. I didn't stop. My bare feet slammed against the floor as I launched myself through the open door. The man outside barely had time to react before my phone hit him square in the face.
His grunt of surprise was all I needed. I ducked low and dove beneath his legs, my shoulder grazing his knee as I slid past.
"Hey!" he barked, but I was already running.
The streets blurred into colors and motion.
I darted through alleys and shortcuts I had memorized, avoiding the usual paths. My lungs burned, but I didn't dare slow down. The weight of the tape pressed against my ribs as I clutched it tightly, as if it were a lifeline.
I had one destination in mind, the only place that felt remotely safe.
By the time I reached the library's rear entrance, my legs were shaking with exhaustion. I slipped through the emergency exit, a battered door with a broken sensor. It was one of the few secrets I had picked up during my time working there, and tonight, it might save my life.
Inside, I strained to hear any sound beyond my ragged breathing. I knew the front door was alarmed, so if anyone followed me in the normal way, I should hear them. Still, that comfort felt thin.
My thoughts raced. I didn't have a phone to call for help and no way to warn my sister. What would happen to her? What was on this tape that was worth sending men after me?
It didn't make sense. This couldn't be worth so much effort, unless there was something truly groundbreaking on it.
Other than safety, I had chosen this place for one other reason. The library still had a working VCR. My only hope of finding answers lay in whatever secrets the tape held.
I patched the VHS together and coaxed it into playing.
Images emerged. They were faded, grainy, and unmistakably strange.
The footage showed the interior of what looked like a castle dungeon. Stone walls lined with iron-barred cells, the flickering glow of torches casting distorted shadows.
It couldn't have been medieval.
Figures in lab coats moved with purpose. People in assault gear stood nearby, their weapons drawn, their faces hidden behind dark visors.
The camera shifted to one of the cells. Three figures were inside. Two women and a man, their features unnervingly human yet undeniably otherworldly. Their ears were slightly elongated, their amber eyes faintly glowing as they stared at the camera with unsettling intensity. Their presence felt dangerous. They didn't seem like they belonged behind bars, but perhaps nowhere else either.
The camera didn't linger. It moved deeper into the dungeon, passing shadowy cells where indistinct shapes writhed or stood motionless, obscured by darkness. Each turn of the corridor seemed to make the air heavier against my chest. I found myself leaning closer to the screen, unable to look away.
Finally, the camera reached a larger chamber. The room was stark and bright compared to the rest of the dungeon. Its walls were etched with strange symbols that seemed to shift when viewed from the corner of my eye. In the center sat a stone pedestal, and on it rested two objects. A delicate blue butterfly glowed faintly as its wings pulsed with ethereal light, and a pumpkin.
The pumpkin looked ordinary at first glance, round and squat with a rough, weathered surface. But as the camera zoomed in, its carved face came into view. The grin was jagged and impossibly wide, its hollow eyes glowing faintly in the eerie light. It sat there, unmoving, yet somehow exuded a palpable menace that made my breath hitch.
Then it spoke.
"Hello," it said in a voice that was high and sweet, almost playful, yet laced with something unnatural. The sound seemed to crawl out of the screen, wrapping itself around the room like a living thing.
The pumpkin's grin deepened, though it didn't move. It simply stared, its carved face exuding a sense of knowing, as if it could see me through the screen.
The tape crackled, and a low, resonant hum filled the room.
Then the screen went black.
That's when I felt it. A hand on my shoulder.
I didn't turn around. I didn't need to.
The reflection in the now-dead monitor showed them. The men in suits were standing behind me.
My time was over.
Not because I had found the truth.
Because it had found me.