The Vanishing Game
December 4, 2024
The piercing wail of a distant train echoed through the desolate rail yard as Detective Erin Vale clicked on her flashlight. Its beam cut through the fog, illuminating rusted tracks and overgrown weeds.
“This is where she disappeared?” she asked, her tone skeptical.
The witness, a scruffy teenager named Milo, nodded nervously. “I swear, Detective. One second, she was right there. The next… gone.”
“People don’t just vanish, Milo,” Erin said, shining her light around. “Start from the beginning.”
“We were playing the game,” Milo mumbled, shuffling his feet.
“What game?” Erin pressed, her patience thinning.
“The Vanishing Game,” he said reluctantly. “It’s this stupid thing. You follow the tracks at night, counting ten paces every time you hear a train whistle. They say if you do it right, you see the Shadow Man. If you mess up… he takes you.”
Erin stifled a sigh. Urban legends had a way of complicating cases. “Who’s ‘he’? The Shadow Man?”
Milo’s face paled. “I don’t know. Nobody does. But Rachel said she saw him. She screamed, and then…” His voice broke.
Erin crouched slightly to meet his eyes. “Rachel Summers, your friend, vanished during this… game? What exactly did you see?”
“Nothing!” Milo said, panic rising in his voice. “Just the fog. And then she was gone!”
The next morning, Erin stood in the precinct, staring at the map spread across her desk. Rachel Summers was the third disappearance in six weeks, all within a three-mile radius of the rail yard. Witness accounts varied, but one detail was consistent: they all mentioned the “Shadow Man.”
“Vale,” her partner, Detective Marcus Hayes, called from across the room. “The lab got something off that scarf we found near the tracks.”
Erin perked up. “Rachel’s?”
Hayes nodded grimly. “Blood. And… coal dust. The old kind, not from modern trains.”
Erin frowned. “Coal dust? That rail yard hasn’t seen coal engines in decades.”
“Exactly,” Hayes said. “But it gets weirder. The lab also found skin cells. Not Rachel’s. Not anyone in the system, either.”
By nightfall, Erin and Hayes were back at the rail yard. The fog was thicker this time, curling around their legs like a living thing.
“This is a bad idea,” Hayes muttered, his flashlight flickering.
“Got a better one?” Erin shot back.
As they moved deeper into the yard, a distant whistle cut through the air. Hayes froze. “You heard that, right? Please tell me you heard that.”
“Yeah,” Erin said, gripping her flashlight tighter. “Stay close.”
Ten paces. Another whistle. The air seemed heavier, colder.
“Vale,” Hayes whispered, “this doesn’t feel right.”
Before Erin could respond, the fog shifted. A tall, shadowy figure loomed ahead, its form indistinct yet menacing.
“Who’s there?” Erin demanded, drawing her weapon.
The figure didn’t move, but a low, guttural sound filled the air, like laughter dragged through gravel.
“Run!” Hayes shouted, but it was too late. The fog surged forward, enveloping them. Erin’s flashlight clattered to the ground, its beam extinguished.
Hours later, a search party found Hayes unconscious near the tracks, clutching Erin’s badge.
“She just… vanished,” he stammered, his eyes wide with terror.
No one ever found Erin Vale. But in the foggy nights that followed, locals swore they saw two shadowy figures near the tracks, playing a game no one dared join.