Quite honestly, this prompt freaks me out a little bit. But here we go.
You never really think about those people whose faces appear on the back of milk cartons, or on poles on street corners. You don't realize that they're gone, that their families don't know where they are, and that no one knows if they'll ever be back. Sure, the questions might cross your mind. You might even send up a quick prayer, but after that your mind replaces those thoughts with thoughts about your favorite tv show or what you and your best friend are going to do after school on Friday. You never think about it. At least I didn't, until my sister went missing.
***
Palmer was only eight years old when we lost her. It had started out a normal day. That's how these stories normally start however. If there was any warning that something bad was going to happen, we'd take measures to prevent it. I arrived home from Peter Mount High School, and dumped my extremely full backpack next to my shoes in the front hall.
"I'm home!" I called.
"Tracy!" Palmer squealed, then came bouncing down the stairs, her stocking feet making thumping sounds as she landed on each individual step, her brown pigtails bouncing.
I smiled and gave her a hug. "What'd you do today?" I asked, looking up to see Nana walking down the stairs quietly. Nana had that look on her face, the tight smile which meant that even though she loved Palmer very much, Palmer had been loud today. I smiled sympathetically.
"Me and Nana played animals!" Palmer exclaimed.
"Yeah? And how was school?" I asked, heading towards the kitchen to get an apple.
"School was sad." Palmer replied.
I stopped and looked at her carefully. "Were other kids mean to you?" I asked gently. Palmer was tiny for her age, and extremely thin. She was sick a lot, and last year a couple of kids had picked on her, leaving her shy around children her own age.
"No," she answered, with a vigorous shake of the head. "School was just sad, cause it was a sad place to be today."
I didn't know what Palmer meant, but satisfied that she wasn't being bullied I went to the fridge and began looking through the drawer where we kept our produce.
"Tracy?" Palmer said, coming up and hugging my leg. "Nana says she's too tired to go the park. Will you take me?"
I had a bunch of homework to complete, but I wasn't too eager to get to my AP Calculus and knew that it would make both Palmer and Nana very happy if I got Palmer out of the house for an hour so I agreed.
The park was only a couple of blocks from our home. We lived in a nice suburban area, and the park we went to had never seemed in the least bit dangerous. There was nothing haunting about the rows of creaky swings, or anything eerie about the long twisting slide. The monkey bars had never freaked me out, and the climbing spider dome was far from chilling. I let go of Palmer's hand as we got to the park and watched her run off towards the monkey bars. She'd practiced them all summer, and now were her favorite activity at the park. I sat down on the bench by the swings, the one with the best view of the duck pond near the park, and enjoyed the crisp air. It was late September, and the last bit of summer still swirled in the air with the ever growing presence of autumn.
Leaning back, I looked around, admiring the leaves on the changing trees, and watching the ducks swim lazily in the pond, quacking at one another every now and then, and occasionally wandering up out of the shallow pool and sitting in the shade of the trees. I made sure to keep an eye on Palmer, but she seemed to be happily playing. There were only about six other children at the park that day, and Palmer had started up a game of tag with a little girl with black, curly hair and a ginger boy wearing overalls. I smiled, remembering what it was like to be eight years old and full of energy.
I closed my eyes to enjoy the rays of sunlight on my face, when suddenly the bite in the air seemed colder. The creaking sound of swings died away, and for one split second everything was dead silent. A loud quack from a green-headed mallard cut through the stillness, and as I opened my eyes I saw it. A black looming form, looking mostly human, but part dog and constructed entirely of shadows was stalking out from underneath the bridge, connecting the two parts of the playground together. I blinked, not believing my eyes, but sure that I'd seen something.
I stood up, panic rising in my chest, as the looming shape, walking on two legs but slumped over so far the arms almost brushed the ground, began to charge.
"Palmer!" I called. But the creature had traveled across the playground in three bounds, taking with it an aura of darkness. Wherever it moved, it seemed mostly cloaked, as though it could grab on to the existing shadows and stretch them to shield himself from the sun's bright beams.
"Palmer!" I said again, hurrying towards her now, my voice rising higher than normal.
Her head snapped around and she looked at me, clumsily running towards her, but it was too late. The thing had reached her, and suddenly it was as if she was swirled up in a cape of blackness, and then suddenly they both were gone.
My hands flew to my face, and I realized I was about to vomit. She couldn't just be gone. She was standing right in front of me, literally one second ago. With wild eyes, I looked to the children who had been playing with her. Why were they still here? Why did it take Palmer? Where was she? What was it?
"Did you...Did you see what just happened?" I asked the tiny boy, who was kicking at the wood ships and swaying slightly.
He looked up at me, wide eyed, and shook his head, then turned and ran the other way.
My eyes darted about in agitation, glancing furtively at the other mothers and babysitters who were seated on various benches around the park, but no one else seemed to have noticed a thing.
I took a step backwards, not knowing what to do now. Palmer was gone. Palmer was missing.
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