Derrick Maple's Story

A frigid gust of autumn's morning air lifted the thin, pale curtains in a graceful yet eerie manner. The silence was unnerving. For once, I actually wished the birds would start chirping already. As if somehow answering my internal plea, a couple of goldfinches began to strike up a bright, cheery tune, announcing dawn's arrival. Feeling the heavy weight of tired in my eyes, I rubbed them, my vision reluctantly sharpening my laptop's blinding screen into focus. I had pulled an all-nighter again, not for grading my students' papers nor preparing today's lesson plans but for finding answers. After desperately sifting through endless collections of related articles and police reports released to the public, I came to a dead end, empty-handed.

Just as I was about to climb out of bed and get ready for work, the site I was on refreshed and posted a fairly reccent update. My eyes widened at the search tags: "Gainsboro Hills", "mysterious kidnappings", "help and information wanted". I hastily pulled my pen out from behind my ear and quickly scribbled down the submiter's contact information. Without hesitation, I dialed their number and waited anxiously as the rhythmic tone on the other end blared in my ear. "Come on. Pick up. Pick up."

After recieving the location where to meet the submiter, a young woman named Alexandra Valliere, I hastily grabbed my coat and a meager slice of buttered toast. I was surprised they were so willing to meeting so early in the morning, but I couldn't have done it any other way: Faculty must promptly be on campus by nine o' clock. Besides, Ms. Valliere must be as concerned as I am, to be so dedicated.

Once I arrived in front of the town hall building, I got outside my car, pulling up my scarf against the chilly air. Seeing a young woman in front of the town hall steps, I broke out in a slow jog towards her. Before I could greet her, I suddenly realized the slice of toast that I still held onto in my mouth. I turned away, hastily devouring it before facing her more properly. "S-sorry about that. Good morning. Are you Ms. Valliere? I'm Derrick Maple. It's nice to meet you."

Slightly lifting my wrist, I glanced down at my watch: I had about an hour and a half until I'd have to clock in. "Likewise," I replied, in regards to her polite gratitude. Although I was hesitant, I concluded that it would be rude of me to prematurely excuse myself for work. Following Ms. Valliere towards the local diner, I flipped up the collar of my coat, bracing myself against a brisk breeze that burned my cold face. I held the door open for the two of us. The warm aroma of coffee and sweet, pancake batter coaxed us further inside.

I nearly sprayed a mouthful of coffee at Ms. Valliere, at the mentioning of witnessing the mythical Slender Man. Swallowing hard, I regained my composure. "No, I've never seen it. I don't believe anyone has, and that's what frustrates me more: That we could be chasing after something that doesn't even exist." My tone remained calm and steady, but I knew my eyes were intense and fierce, burning with desperate optimism and vengence for the children and other missing victims. "There isn't much information out there in circulation. I've looked into it. Believe me." Flashes of sleepless nights that dragged on into a blurring morning surfaced from my memories. This had gone on for too long, and we needed to bring an end to all this madness. "Unless there were any witnesses, we don't have any leads..." My voice trailed off spitefully, as I sipped my coffee, staring blankly into the swirling foam of dissippating creamer.

"Very well, Ms. Valliere. I'll try decoding the cryptic message during my free time at work. I'll try to interview the Busch family after work. Their son was enrolled in the school I teach at." I took Alexandra's contact information and folded it into my coat pocket. "Well," I took on last sip of my coffee, before standing. "I'll contact you, if I find anything new. Enjoy your morning, Ms. Valliere." I nodded with a smile, as I bid her farewell.

Although it was bright outside, the sun's beams failed to penetrate through the grey overcast looming overhead. Glancing down at my watch, I let out a dreadful groan. "Ugh, I better hurry." Making haste, I quickly climbed into my car and drove to the elementary school.

"Mr. Maple, are you okay? You don't look too good." I glance up at the small squeaky voice and manage to smile for my student's peace of mind. "Thank you for being so thoughtful Emerald, but there's no need to worry. After all..." I grin and strike a heroic pose from one of my childhood comic books. "...I'm super Maple!" Emerald's giggling fit uplifts my heavy heart. These innocent children, who haven't even ventured into the world to judge it for themselves, are surrounded by the town's misfortune and if not become victims of these strange happenings cower in fear at every shadow. Confidence fueled and purpose reestablished, I felt as though my mere actions would determine the fate of the town and its future. "You're silly, Mr. Maple." Her innocent remark became tainted with my adult perception that matured from exposure to reality. "Hopeful what I'm doing isn't silly..." Emerald tilted her head curiously at me, confused by my vocal thoughts. "Come on, Emerald. Take your seat. I have to take attendance."

During lunch break, I examined the cryptic code from Ms. Valliere more closely. Deep in thought, I hadn't noticed the additional presence of someone else in the faculty lounge. "What's that?" Startled by the sudden break in silence, I hastily turned my head. "Oh, it's just you." I exhaled a sigh of relief, at the sight of a female teacher who was a friend of mine. "What do you make of this?" Nudging her glasses up the bridge of her nose, she peered over my shoulder. "Looks like a code of some sort." "Thanks for stating the obvious. What does it say exactly?" "Beats me. What's it for?" "Nothing," I reply a little too quickly, shoving the slip of paper into my pocket. Exhaling a frustrated sigh, I scrolled through the contacts of my phone. As the droning tone of the other line dragged on, I anxiously hoped Ms. Valliere would answer. I didn't want to interrupt her from her work, but I wanted to know how successful she was at solving the code.

((Hint: I dunno what it says. XD ))

I flipped my old phone closed, before letting the call transfer to voicemail. She was probably busy at work.

I proceeded with my lesson for the remainder of the school day. My students were energetic and compliant, and I tried to reply with equal enthusiasm, yet I fully couldn't. My mind was elsewhere, scanning old, irrelevant information, scanning for something significant I may have missed.

As promised, I visited the Busch residence to gather information pertaining to the unfortunate disapperance of their son---Daniel, a former student of mine before I reassigned myself from kindergarden to the second grade. Before I could even ring the doorbell, the door swung open. "Mr. Maple, we've been expecting you. Thank you for calling ahead of time." "Thank you for accepting my request." I bowed my head respectfully, in condolence of their son. After polite, small talk over a cup of tea and cookies in the living room, I eased into the matter at hand. "Mr. and Ms. Busch," I started. The wife inhaled a wavering breath, as though bracing herself. Her husband gingerly placed a reassuring arm around her in response, his delighted expression wilting to a more tense, serious one. "We'll tell you all that we know," he interrupted stiffly, perhaps wanting to get the conversation and my reminding visit over with. I nodded. "During our annual hiking trip last summer, Daniel became quite rambunctious. Despite promising to not let work interfere with our precious time together, we both were called, from work, to report back to work due to an unexpected decrease in available workers. You see, at the time, we were financially struggling and couldn't turn them down, especially since they offered a permanent wage increase." His wife choked back a sob, sensing the inevitable down-turn of events in the account. "The entire time, I felt as though we were being watched. We hadn't come across any fellow hikers or anything suspicious, so I thought nothing of it. I should've noticed. Why didn't I notice?" The veins at his temples buldged, as the tone of his voice rised with burning frustration. His wife embraced him gently, whispering consoling words into his ear. He kissed her forehead, gazing into her tearing eyes, then turned to me. "Sorry. Where was I? ...oh. When we told him the disappointing news, he ran off into the woods beyond our campsite. While looking for him, we came across a barbed, metal fence stretching across an endless span of thicket. Just before our flashlight died out, I caught a glimpse of it---a tall shadow facing us in the distance. I thought it was a man, but...its face was so pale and featureless. I hate to admit it, but I was scared. We both were. Without hesitation, we ran back to camp. I reassured myself that Daniel couldn't have climbed over the fence or seen that...thing. I kept making up excuses and telling myself he'd come back crying for us. That..." He paused, biting his lip and digging both hands into his knees. His knuckles whitened painfully. I swallowed, unsure whether politely coaxing him to continue was rude. After several brief moments of composing himself, he saved me from making such a pressing decision in the already tense situation. "That was the last time we saw our Daniel." He lifted his head, eyes seething with vengence and bitter hatred. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, despite knowing such boiling anger wasn't directed towards me. "Please Derrick. May I call you Derrick?" He continued, before I could respond. "Please find this sick bastard. Please put everyone's souls to rest and for everyone's missing loved ones to find peace. If he's still alive-" "Mr. Busch, we can't conclude that he isn't-" "Whether he is or not, please bring our Daniel home. I beg of you!" He humbly lowered his head. My insides twisted at the man's low, pathetic state of desperate pleaing. I quickly stood and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Don't you worry. I'll find your son. I won't let this guy get away with this."

"You're a good man, Derrick," he called out to me as I started towards my car parked against the sidewalk. I looked over my shoulder, grinning modestly. "I'd like to think so."

After returning home and feeding Max---my German Shepard---and myself, I recieved a phone call from Ms. Valliere, while grading my student's homework. I informed her of what information I gathered from the visiting the Busch residence, as she filled me in on the unsettling yet useless note.

Last night was a long and restless night. I couldn't sleep a wink. Twisted, blood-drained faces of children, sunken cheeks pale and eyes clouded with a film of death, haunted my anxious mind. Their gaunt limbs sprouted like wilted seedlings from a dark, bottomless void, clawing desperately at the air. Without warning, an empty, blank face of ghostly white appeared from the endless stretch of shadow, the darkness regurgetating the silent fiend. Although it were just a mere nightmarish dream, my fear was intense. Hesitating at the sight of such a monstrousity, I abandoned the small, grasping hands, the pit swallowing the children's quiet pleas. I awoke, shivering and drenched in cold sweat. Burying my weary face in my hands, I questioned the capacity of my courage. If the unfavorable situation arose, would I fend for myself, mutating my sincere promises into empty ones? I shook the thought from my mind. I was a man of my word. Not completely reassured, I readied myself for work in a distracted state of mind.

Plagued by vivid, formidable thoughts, I managed to drag myself through the school day, without arousing suspicion from staff and students. My concentration and train of thought deteriorated, as the high, noon sun retreated behind the rough mountains beyond Gainsboro Hills. Shameful humiliation devoured my consciousness: I was a grown man, warily jogging towards my house, anxiety rapidly rising at every shifting shadow. My imagination magnified the darkness and ominous, looming trees along the neighborhood sidewalk. Their scraggly branches hungrily descended into the path, like ravenous talons menacing and still before snatching up unsuspecting prey. I quickened my pace, hesitantly scanning the bare branches, as I rushed beneath them.

My usual, vibrant, cardinal door transformed to a repulsive crimson, with the impending arrival of night. I rummaged through my coat pockets for my keys, my clammy hands fumbling with the chinking metal. Finally unlocking my front door, I hastily closed it behind me. My eyelids felt heavy, and I knew dark rings hung beneath my eyes. Exhaling a wavering sigh, I leaned my back against the door, allowing my weight to pull my weary body slowly to the wooden floor. The strap of my messenger bag slipped off my shoulder and fell beside me with a dull "thud". Rubbing my sore eyes, I buried my face in my hands. Ending this wouldn't only be for the sake of the victims and their families but for my sanity and peace of mind as well. Not wanting to fall into the depths of panic and stress, I unearthed my cellphone from my cluttered bag and dialed Ms. Valliere's number. Despite my notable capacity of patience, I was growing anxious by the second. We had to solve this town's mysterious case soon.