Missing

Marilyn tried hard not to let her emotions burst, she really did. She made this sacrifice for herself and she acknowledged the consequences as well. But here she was, gripping the steering wheel tight and overlooking her misfortune.

Ten years ago, her father had gone missing. He went on a work trip but he never came back. Her mother, Joanne, lost her way, and went down the wrong path, choosing alcohol and drugs as her solution. As she was unable to give Marilyn a stable and healthy life, child services took her to a foster family.

She was just 14 when her father went missing. She had faced a lot but the last straw was Joanne passing away. When she became an adult, she moved out of her foster family and started living on her own. 

Eventually, she found her mother, but the connection wasn't there anymore. After all, Jo also hadn't tried to look for her daughter. But her death made Marilyn look for the answers on why his father had gone missing in the first place, breaking his family. 

So, after everything, she was on her way to the place her father was last seen. The house which he had rented for his trip. Her father was a researcher. The last place he went for his research was a countryside area. Almost an inhabited forest-like place. 

He had done many researches in his life and stayed in a lot of shady places, because staying in a hotel wasn't always an option. From what she remembered, Callahan, her father, was researching some occurrences that happened in the house that he rented.

Supposedly there had been a lot of paranormal activity within those four walls. From Marilyn's own small research, she found out some "demonic activities" take place there. Not believing any of this, Marilyn packs her bags to see for herself.

It had been dark when she reached the place. She knew that this place would be shady, but it actually surpassed the category of shady. The place definitely had an eerie vibe in the air.

Marilyn gripped her bag tight. Just two nights, and then she will have her answers. She fought away her instincts and went into the house.The air sort of shifted, when she opened its front door. But Marilyn could tell, the air wasn't welcoming at all. And the biggest surprise; her father's things were still in there.

Marilyn had found an old notebook after attending her mother's funeral at her childhood home. The notebook clearly stated its owner, Blake Callahan. She found bits and scraps of some research in that diary. One, including the address of the place he'd been last seen. She looked it up on the internet, but there was no website or anything that would allow her to rent it. Although, some videos, vlogs mainly, showed her that this house had a lot of visitors.

Which means, she will not have to face the trouble of renting it. But the visitors, they would arrive early. Or when it was still light enough. And, the strangest thing is, everyone had some kind of issue the second they arrived there. Either, one of the party members would get sick or there would be a local person stopping them from going or something along these lines.

But, nothing happened when she reached there. Maybe because it had been dark? And she was alone? Or, had thisplace been waiting for her? 

She dropped her bag on the doorstep and rushed in to find bits of her father. She didn't know where to start and what to look at. No, she was getting excited; she needs to have a clear mind. She decided to start at the bedroom on the first floor. Would two days be enough for finding out about her father's last moment and finishing his unfinished project? Little did she know, it won't take her that long.

She slowly made her way upstairs, heart hammering inside.The old wooden stairs creaked under her careful steps. The bedroom door seemed untouched for years. Marilyn reached out and grabbed the handle and opened the door. The smell of dirt and dust hit her right on her senses. She ignored everything and went inside the room. 

That's when she felt it. 

As if someone was watching her from the corner of the room. She brushed away that feeling and looked at the dresser. There they were, her father's clothes, documents, bags and notes. The bed was made, as if he had gone downstairs for breakfast, but never came back.

She finished her search and turned to leave. But she saw a shadow passing downstairs. No, she was being paranoid, Marilyn thought to herself. Slowly and carefully, she came downstairs and was immediately caught off-guard with a cold wash of air. She must have left the door open, she thought. She went to close the door, and that's when Marilyn clearly heard, a breathy, rattling voice behind her. "Who's there!?" croaked Marilyn. "Sweetie, don't you remember me? I'm your father."

The last thing Marilyn remembers is a pair of blood-red eyes and her father's voice telling her, "Welcome home, sweetie.Those legends were true."