A short horror story from the perspective of my oc Hubert Witlock, written by ES77 (Endersnake77)
CW - Psychological Horror
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Written 08/21/2016 by Admin~IWorkToMuch
People don't usually realize that children aren't born with the knowledge of what is and isn't dangerous. Fear is an involuntary and instinctual reaction, but what triggers it is learned. Whether it be through personal experience, exposure, or even through word of mouth; The things people are afraid of is because they were taught to fear it.
Similarly, No one born in Loneridge is born with the knowledge that they were born in... well, Loneridge. I feel like everyone I've ever talked to has their own traumatic memory of the day they first found out what a "missing poster" really is. No one realizes just how haunting a piece of paper inscribed with the two syllable word of "MISSING" in big red letters truly is. I honestly don't think most people think about it.
In Loneridge, they're everywhere.
You can't walk into the store to get your weekly groceries, or the theater to see a movie, or even down the street without seeing at least one. I can't tell you how many times I'd be on my way to school, only for my heart to skip a beat the moment my eyes dared catch sight of the word "MISSING" on a piece of paper stapled to an old splintered light pole.
But the second I saw it was just for someone's cat? The relief that'd wash over me! Uh-- Not to say it isn't still a bad thing...! But uh-- Well, just let me tell you my own story of the first time I learned about what a Missing Poster entails.
I don't remember how old I was, but I do recall being in elementary school still. Young enough that I hadn't met Charlie yet, so odds are he hadn't even moved into town at that point. It was just like any other day pretty much. I had gone to school like every other morning and our teacher took attendance, but of everyone in my class someone was... missing. I didn’t really pay any mind to it at the time, our teacher didn’t either. It's not like it was uncommon for someone to be out of school for the day, with or without a sick note so we all kind of brushed it off.
I went that whole day thinking nothing of it.
The next day, It was pretty much the same thing, more or less. I went to school, expecting the same old morning routine as always. But right before taking attendance, our teacher announced to the class in a chocked up voice “I'm sorry class, but we unfortunately we won’t be seeing Timothy Roderick for a while."
I wasn’t ever close to Tim. He sat on the other side of class from me and was pretty annoying at times. Sort of a class clown from what I remember but, I didn’t know him that well and he didn’t really know me either. That is, unless it was to call me something stupid like “Googly Eyes”. I guess he found it funny that I was the only one in our class with glasses… But I don’t think he meant to be mean about it?
Uh-- Anyway, I must've gone home that night and told my parents about it, because they found out the same night. "Timothy Roderick didn't come to school today." Looking back on it now, I feel so stupid for not fully comprehending the horror of it. Why my parents seemed so shocked and frightened, as if what I'd told them was spoken in the devil’s tongue. I don't have slightest idea to why, but I suppose by some sort of radiant means, I couldn't help but feel the same way.
His name and face was everywhere after that. Milk cartons, posters, advertisements. Out of nowhere, everyone was talking about Timothy Roderick. To a child, it would’ve seemed like he suddenly became famous. But, with how worried everybody was about it, It felt more like he’d done something terrible... or something bad happened to him. I guess I was eventually able to discern it had been the ladder.
I feel like it wasn’t until about a week later that I found what really happened.
To give you some context: My mom liked to leave a radio on in the kitchen while she made dinner. Usually it was always tuned in on the local radio station, because there isn’t much else we have access to in our area; But, sometimes the announcer would chirp in with local news. I think I was doing my homework or something? I don’t know, I just remember being in the dining room at the time when I overheard the name “Timothy Roderick” again on the radio. I don’t remember what was said really, all I know is that for some reason I ended up asking my mom about him.
She told me that he was gone.
Clueless and... a little bit anxious, I asked if was going to come back. She said he wasn’t going to. She said that "Tim had gone missing" that I'd "probably never see him again." "His parents will spend the rest of their lives mourning the loss of their little boy." She chocked on the words she spoke as if they were made of jagged iron. She hugged me. Promised me with stinging tears running down her cheeks that she’d never let anything like that happen to me.
I guess everyone in my neighborhood had a similar experience, because that was the norm from than on. Curfew was 8pm sharp for any and all minors. Doors and windows were to be locked shut. Parents had to keep a close eye on their children at all times no matter what. You either knew were your child was or it was something to worry about.
I dunno why, but it stuck with me. Enough that I became obsessed with it.
Apparently, I’d ask about Tim constantly. Always questioning where he went, what happened to him. Charlie even recalls me telling him all about Tim. How he disappeared, what I thought happened to him, and where he went. But I never actually got an answer. It’s weird really-- Despite how obsessed I was, I still don’t know what happened to Timothy Roderick. No one does. It's almost been 10 years and sometimes I think I might be one of the only people who still remembers his name.
I tried looking into it a bit more after all this time--finally do my research on the disappearance, y'know; especially since I was gonna be writing about it. But all I found was this article about it made by the local news station back when it all happened. According to that article, Timothy was last seen in his bedroom the night before he never came to school again... and the next morning he was gone. From what that articles states: "...his room was completely untouched". There wasn't any sign of a struggle or anything like that, even his bed was made. Nothing had changed from the night before... All except for the window. The window that overlooked the dark foreboding woodlands that surround our supposedly haunted town. Apparently, it was mysteriously left ajar, the curtains flowing gently in the morning breeze.
Timothy Roderick was gone.
Logically, he probably ran away from home. Why, I couldn’t tell you. I've met his parents. Even with the loss of their only son, they’re not bad people--At least they don’t seem like it. And Tim wasn’t an obviously troubled kid, either. If he ran away from home, I can’t draw any concrete conclusion as to why. It's not like he would've had anywhere to go either. Loneridge is small enough that everyone pretty much knows each other. Besides, there's no where to go within a 30 mile radius. So if a kid did run away they'd turn up pretty quickly. Really, the only place he could've gone is...
Needless to say, there’s never been a day since then that I can look at a Missing Poster and not find myself overcome with this haunting sense of dread.
Whether or not I knew one of the people amongst those photos of smiling faces from a moment that has long since vanished, not unlike the face that’d stare back; I think is largely irrelevant to that sensation. It never seems to matter that much if I had ever seen the person who had disappeared walking the streets of my neighborhood or attending the same class as me not even a week before. The emotions of those who knew them and the things that missing person must feel now, If anything at all… It contributed to that feeling sure, but what really scares me is a sinking question.
What if it were my smiling photo, full name, and details scrawled out on a list for public display? Would anyone look for me? Keep an eye out for anyone who even kind of looked like me? …Would they even try to find a body? Or would I just be added to the ever growing tally list of cold cases? Forgotten about amongst a filing cabinet full of old posters? Another unsolved mystery for people to speculate about for years to come but never truly care about the victim.
...When someone goes missing, everyone talks about it and a silent hysteria rings out among us all. We fear for ourselves, our loved ones, our children, our pets...
But no one ever looks for the person in the poster.
