The Vanishing of Thomas Walker

Julian!

Or… should I address you as Mister Mayor? I hope you’re not too important for your friends.

We haven’t talked in five years, so there’s so much to catch up on! I’m very sorry to hear about Eleanor. She was one of my best friends and she’ll be dearly missed. How’s Lily? Sebastian told me she’s acting out for attention, but I guess that’s normal. Goodness, she must be thirteen by now. My oldest just turned seven. Time really flies, eh?

What a fun topic to research! And such an Eleanor thing! She always loved history. I remember that time she interrupted Sister Geraldine mid-lecture to correct her on the horrors of colonialism. Always a social justice warrior, bless her!

I’d love to help with your little history project. In fact, I might have the best story yet: a sighting of Dreary Maggie herself! Yes, you read this right. I was fortunate enough to come across the ghost of our esteemed founder!

I tried to be discreet about it at the time. Daddy had just passed away and mom was still grieving. She didn’t like me talking about ghosts and apparitions, no matter how iconic. Sebastian outright told me to shut up about it - of course, he used much more colorful language. I’m overjoyed to finally be able to tell my story properly, so buckle up!

You must remember my father disappeared in the summer of 1994? His vanishing was so abrupt and disorienting to us all, but especially to me. I was such a daddy’s girl. He’d always call me his favorite kid, which made Christopher squirm with jealousy and Sebastian roll his eyes.

To an eight-year-old, his disappearance was hard to grasp. One day, daddy was there, all warm hugs and joyful laughter, giving Sebastian grief for not studying his bible enough. The next, he wasn’t.

It took the police two days to admit something was wrong, and they weren’t exactly good at their jobs. We had an underfunded department of maybe a dozen officers who were used to drunken fights and the occasional marijuana use. A disappearance was new. It shook the town.

They kept asking if there was another woman, if maybe he'd run off to Red Lake with someone else, but that was ridiculous! Mom wouldn’t even entertain the question. Even Christopher, who was never particularly close to our father, thought it strange that he’d just simply left. Sebastian was the only one who seemed willing to believe it. I still resent him for it.

But you don’t care about my family drama. You’re asking about our local legends. Still, it’s important that you understand I was distraught. Absolutely devastated. So I did the only thing that made sense to me: I went looking for him, and there was only one place where he could be as far as I was concerned.

He used to call it his “quiet place”, where he’d go to be away from four noisy kids. My husband calls it a “man cave”, but it was only an old, rundown barn in the woods, not even two floors high. The white paint was chipped in several places. That thing was creepy on a good day, and I always thought daddy was brave for going into it as much as he did.

“Now, you must never go inside, princess,” he’d told me. “There are bogeymen and creepy crawlers in there. It’s not safe for a young lady.”

I know he was joking, but I swear I heard something groaning in the barn once, hiding in the shadows, ready to pounce.

Yet, daddy wasn’t afraid. He was too brave for monsters and creatures of the dark.

I was a very obedient daughter. Besides, mom didn’t like us going near that part of the woods because old Rosie Bly's shack was just beyond the creek. Is she still there? I feel like she’s as old as the town and we just pass her on from one generation to the next, like a haunting nobody wants to deal with.

Funny, urban legends about the Witch in the Woods who’d boil children alive if you went near her ran rampant through elementary school and I know I believed them, but I didn’t think of her as I went into the woods. I was a young lady with a mission and I was going to see it through.

I approached the barn slowly and pushed out my chest, trying to make my eight-year-old frame look bigger. I was going back to town with my father. I had nothing to fear.

I pushed the door open. It didn’t make a sound, which was somehow more eerie than if it’d emitted a long, screeching creak. I could feel a chill going down my spine and suddenly I was aware of just how far away from home I was. Dreary Foggs seemed miles away, as did my mother and siblings. Even the birds and the bugs seemed to be quiet in this part of the field, like they were afraid of calling the attention of something horrible.

But there was nothing horrible inside. No bogeymen or creepy crawlers. There was only a woman.

A large woman, though I couldn’t tell right away. She was leaned over a trapdoor on the floor, fidgeting with the latch to get it open. The moment I stepped in, though, she looked up. I hadn't made a sound, but she still knew I was there.

Her eyes narrowed as she watched me. Blue eyes. As bright as the sky and as cold as a block of ice. They were mesmerizing.

I stammered half-words. Mom had never taught me not to talk to strangers because there were no strangers in Dreary Foggs. Everyone was your neighbor. This lady... she looked familiar, but I couldn’t remember her name. Maybe she was part of one of the families we weren’t close to. The ones on the edge of town whose children we weren’t allowed to play with.

I couldn’t put a name to the face, but I knew her. There was something familiar about her round cheeks and strong shoulders.

Finally, I managed to say, “I-I’m looking for daddy.”

She didn’t say anything. I wanted to turn around and run back home, but I couldn’t move.

Then, she spoke.

“You’re Sarah Walker.”

I swallowed.

She waited for an answer even though that had been more a statement than a question. Her voice was so effortlessly firm you couldn’t help but feel cornered by it.

I nodded.

She smiled. It wasn’t a warm smile. It was more… determined? Like she’d been through battle and come out on the other side without a scratch. I had the feeling that woman could take over the world.

And then it dawned on me. I knew where I’d seen her face before: just outside of the library, in the form of a statue. I was looking at our town's great founding mother herself, Margaret “Dreary Maggie” Foggs.

Suddenly, I wasn’t scared anymore. I was star-struck. It wasn’t like I believed in ghosts to begin with; they weren’t in any of my Sunday school teachings. But this wasn’t just any ghost. This was the town’s hero. My personal hero.

I took a step closer. Funny, I can’t remember what she was wearing, but I don’t think it was anything remarkable. Her dressing was just… plain.

“You’re… Dreary Maggie.”

She cracked the first real smile.

“You’re a very clever girl.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Clever girls shouldn’t be alone in places like this. It can be very dangerous.”

I blushed and mumbled “sorry” like I’d been scolded by my own mother.

She let go of the latch on the floor and got to her feet. She was tall. Local historians described her as a giant, and they weren’t kidding. She was as tall as daddy.

She extended a callous hand to me. It didn’t look ghostly at all.

“Come here, child,” she said, soft-spoken and inviting. “I’ll help you find your father.”

I got ready to come closer and hold her hand. What would people say when I walked into town, hand in hand with our founder? What would they say if we came back with my father in tow? I was so excited! Surely Margaret Foggs could find him!

I took a step closer-

And that was when someone lifted me off the floor and I found myself being taken in the opposite direction. Over my captor’s shoulder, I could see Margaret Foggs’ face one last time before the barn door slammed shut, leaving me alone with my captor.

It was a monster! It had to be! It spoke in a monstrous babble and its claws were digging into my bare legs to keep me from squirming. It hurt. My throat was sore from screaming for help, but I didn’t stop. This had to be one of daddy’s creatures and it was here to eat me for coming too close. Was that thing taking me to its cave? Was it going to gobble me whole in a single bite?

I broke down, screaming, crying, and sobbing like the child that I was.

I was making so much noise that I almost didn’t hear my mother shrieking my name and telling Rosie Bly to put me down immediately.

In a quick swoop, the police had me in my mother’s arms and Rosie was pinned to the ground and I finally understood: the crazy, old bat had found me in the field and dragged me back to town. In her insanity, she probably thought she was helping, but I had never been in danger!

I said so to the police in between sobs. Margaret Foggs herself had come to my rescue. She was going to help me find daddy, but Rosie Bly had taken me away before she’d had the chance. It was like losing him all over again.

Of course, the police chalked that down to childish imagination, but they did go to the barn to check and… well, I don’t think I need to explain what happened. You must have the police reports.

I was racked with guilt. I still am even though I know better. I keep thinking I could have done something.

I don’t know.

As for Rosie Bly, I made a point of never looking her in the face again for the 12 years I lived in Dreary Foggs. I could never shake the feeling that daddy’s death could have been avoided if only she’d let me take Dreary Maggie’s hand.

It’s not a happy ending, but it’s the truth. The police reports must fill in the blanks for you, I can’t dwell too long on the circumstances in which daddy was found. It was just… so inhumane.

I hope that’s what you’re looking for, Julian. I miss our town and I’m sure Eleanor would be glad to see that you’re continuing her legacy.

I hope to hear from you soon.

God bless,

Sarah Haynes