Not dead, just missing. Maybe nothing.

*Novel Hook Post*

-Side note, I have not written any kind of narrative in about a year. And I seem to have forgotten how. So this was really painful to write and didn’t turn out the way I wanted, but whatever, it’s here.

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Phone calls aren’t supposed to make you sick. Phone calls are normal, everyone gets them. But this one just felt different. The tone of voice was off, talking to me as if I was a child. Then missing got caught in my ears. And everything else said wasn’t important.

They asked if I was okay. Who cared if I was okay. Only one word was on my mind.

“Dead?” I asked.

“No, no, not dead, just missing. Maybe nothing. Probably took a trip, forgetting to tell someone and just got out of service range.”

Consulation never worked on me. My parents figured that out when I was three years old. But now they’re dead. No, not dead, just missing. Maybe nothing. Maybe something. Probably something they’ll bury deep underneath cold cases they insist are still hot.

“Missing like those 12 others your department hasn’t found yet?”

“We- those- we don’t know for sure yet. But trust me, we will do our very best to locate your parents. You don’t need to worry, ma’am.”

My mother always taught me keep quiet, let the men handle what needs to be handled to keep their fingernails clean. And go get your hands dirty yourself, ask forgiveness later. They won’t do anything anyway.

After a bit of hyperventilation I said, “Okay, and you’ll let me know every single lead you get on them?”

“Yes, we’ll let you and your brother know, we promise.”

I don’t know if I’ve ever done a bigger eye roll, “Okay, thank you.”

“Of course, we thank you for your understanding ma’am, we hope-“

I hung up. Enough of that. My pulse was too quick to handle anymore of their bull.

“Idiots. You won’t do jack.”

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Aaaannd that’s about as far as my brain could handle. Maybe one day in the future I’ll finish this.

-The Splintered Pencil