On the morning of Friday, October seventh, 1983, Seventeen year old George Kent walked into the forest that almost completely surrounds Foggy Hollow, our town, and never walked out. That was fourteen years ago, and still nobody knows what happened that day. The whole town figures it was a ghost, a monster, a spell, anything that could explain it without actually having to explain it. Unlike everyone else in this town, I'm not happy to accept that a creature that doesn't exist kidnapped a boy just for walking into a forest. So me and my best friend, Max Anderson, are willing to do whatever it takes to uncover what happened to George on that infamous day.

I lean back into my chair as Mr. Charles starts talking about some beginning of the year project. I could figure out whatever he was talking about later, I have more important things to think about. I close my eyes and try to focus on what I could remember from that day. I was barely three at the time he disappeared, and I shiver realizing that now I’m the same age he was. All I could remember was my mom coming into my room telling me a boy had disappeared, but that they were going to find him, that everything was going to be okay. To be honest, I don’t know how hard anyone actually looked. The forest lingers in the back of everyone's minds. It always has, even before George. Legends of the forest have been told since this town was founded, rumors and tales hang over the town like the fog where we get our name. Nobody has ever gone in there, nobody but George. 

“Katieee” Max calls  to me in a sing-songy voice, jolting me away from my thoughts.

“Yeah?” I reply

“Didn’t you hear? Mr. Charles said we can research the forest and George Kent for our project!” Max says, smiling ear to ear.

My only reply was a simple nod, too lost in my thoughts and tired to work up any kind of response. For the rest of the day, all my thoughts surround the forest, like the way it surrounds this town. I debate asking someone about George, his life, that kind of thing. But it seems everyone who knew him packed up and left. After his supposed death, his family moved out of town screaming about some curse coming for them next. I suppose this town really does make people crazy. The easiest thing  I can think to do would be to focus on a logical reason for his disappearance in the forest. Like sinkholes or…something. I’ll work on it. The best place to start would be the town library. The oldest building still standing, lurking quietly in the ruins of where Foggy Hollow was first built. You’d never believe it, but most folks here think it's haunted. 

I walk slowly over the old creaking floorboards of the library. I don’t know the exact date of when this place was built, but for all I know it could be older than America itself. Between the faint glow of barley working lights, and the smell of old books, every inch of the library felt almost desolate and dreary.

“Excuse me,” I ask the lady at the front desk, “do you happen to have any old newspapers on George Kent?”

“On who…? Oh, yes that boy…perhaps you'll find something in the back.” she replied too quickly, like my question was not worth her time. 

“Uh, okay.”

I quickly shuffle towards the back of the library, confusion gripping my mind. She forgot George? Nobody has ever forgotten George. His face is carved like initials on a tree into the soul of every person who carried a flashlight in their hand and his name on their tongue through that first night. Sometimes it feels like they're still waiting for him to appear again, laughing about how he fooled them all. I shook the confusion out of my head once I saw Max already looking through the newspapers, which were strewn across the table in no particular order. Max offered a tired smile when he saw me and threw a pile of papers in my direction. Clearly, this was going to take longer than I thought.

Two hours later and I've only managed to sift through half the newspapers here. Nothing relates to George or the forest, which is surprising considering that's half the conversations in this town. I yawn loudly and grab another, older looking paper from the stack. As I pick up the newspaper, a small piece of yellowed paper falls out slowly onto the table. Confused shock seeps through my fingertips as I try to read the swirling cursive sitting neatly at the top of what appeared to be a list . A chill runs through my blood as I realize what the word says: Disappearances. A single word. Just one. A single word that contains more pain than a broken heart. I scramble to read what appears to be names, none of which I recognize until I see it, written in the same cursive as before: George Kent 1966-1983. My eyes widen. This paper looks so old, and yet, here was his name, which means at most it could be fourteen years old. Something wasn't right. I look down and read the final name: Katie Park 1980-1997. I gulp unsuccessfully for air. The scenery around me grows blurry as I stare at my name. Panic spreads through my lungs like wildfire. I force myself to look away, to handle this calmly. I’m tired, and probably imagining things. I rub my eyes and look back towards the paper. There’s no name after George’s. Slowly, I fold up the paper and place it in my bag. I stare at nothing and wondered whether or not I should be scared. Because either I'm going insane, or I'm not. And I can't tell which one is worse. 

I through on my hoodie and sneakers, grabbing the bundle of sunflowers I’d bought earlier. After I showed Max the paper we agreed we should go to the graveyard to try and find the graves of these people, to see if the paper was real or some person's idea of a sick joke. Which still doesn’t explain why I saw my name, but I didn't tell Max that part. I don’t really know why I showed Max the paper at all, there's just never been anything I’ve ever hidden from him, why would I start now? Except, of course, that I saw my name, though I'm sure it was a hallucination. No point in making a big deal about nothing.

 The crisp fall air and turning leaves help calm my nerves. It was only early october, but people were already lining their doorsteps with pumpkins. Slowly, I start to feel a little better about all this. Surely I had just been tired and scared, and this “list” was just a stupid joke. I smile and take a deep breath of the cool breeze. 

As I approach Max, he notices me holding the sunflowers.

I smile subconsciously, “Just in case we see their graves.”

“You ready?” He replies, maybe I imagined it, but he almost sounded scared.

I nod, and we step towards the graves. I really don’t understand why anyone would go to a graveyard at night. Even in broad daylight this place was terrifying. I silently thank the fog for choosing this day to hide away. Max and I walk silently side by side, too wrapped up in our own minds to speak. As the grave dates keep shifting back through time, every step I take gets shaker and shaker. Why did it feel more terrifying to not see their names? Maybe because I know they aren’t fake I think. No. They clearly are. I stop short, trying to fake a look of disappointment instead of fear.

“It must be fake” I say, trying to steady my voice, “Let’s just go.”

“Wait, we should at least put these flowers on George’s grave” Max replies wearily.

George's family had a grave made for him, even though a body was never found. To help move on, or something. I choke out a yes and walk swiftly towards the area of his grave. Everyone knows the location of his grave, whether it’s because your parents make you go, or you go willingly, his grave is always flooded with flowers on October Seventh, the day of his supposed “death.”.  I’ve always thought that flowers were more for the living than the dead, the dead won’t notice or care how many flowers are on their grave. Especially if no ones sure if the dead in question is actually dead. All of a sudden, Max let out a little yelp and steps back. I look up trying to figure out why. Then I saw it.

His grave was missing.

Not even just his headstone. The whole area of his grave was empty, like nothing had ever been there but grass. After that, everything became a blurry mess. I was shaking wildly, and maybe I was crying, I couldn't tell. Even on the clearest day of the year, the world felt wrapped in fog.

 Thank goddess both my parents were out when I got home. I couldn’t look at anyone right now. I slumped over my dresser and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Nothing looked back at me. My face in the mirror was blurry shapes I could barely make out. I stared and stared but everything just got blurrier, panic seeping through my head. I was forgetting myself whilst the town forgot George. I really was going insane. I try to take a step back but I trip and feel my head hit the hardwood floor. Ringing fills my ears as I slowly feel the black curtain of unconsciousness slipping through my mind. 

I was standing in the forest. Unaware of how I got there, and unable to move. A few yards away from me stands someone, but it’s too foggy to tell who. I look on silently, invisible to the person whom I'm watching. Slowly, a figure wrapped in shadows approaches them. I want to scream but find that I have no voice to do so. It reaches out towards their form, then suddenly stops. It jerks its head away from their body and turns towards where I was watching from, its figure blurry like how it felt looking through that mirror. Then, just as it looked like it was going to take a step towards me, everything once again faded to black.

I awake to a sharp jolt and my mothers worried face looking over me. She was talking, but her words sounded slurred and incoherent. I stood up as fast as I could, trying to ignore the sharp ringing still torturing my brain. I looked out my window and figured it must be about dawn, the horrible fog once again suffocating the trees. My mother's worried face only grew as I staggered unevenly towards the doorway. I tried to tell her I was okay, but I don’t think I am. I have to get to the forest, prove that George's death is something that makes sense, that everyone forgetting him was just another part of that strange dream. My world had been toppled because of my stupid curiosity, I could only pray that Max was not feeling what I was right now. I lurched through my front door and was greeted by too-cold air. I hobbled along the road, my thoughts surrounded only keeping my breaths even, unable to think about why mom had not come after me, or why it felt like a cool hand was pressed against my back, leading me into the forest.  

I soon found myself standing among the barren branches of the forest I had never dared face before. The forest eased the ringing that had previously seized my mind, but now it seems that empty space has room to be filled with the sense of eerie dread that creeps over me like a moonless night. The skeletal hands of the leafless trees seemed to reach towards me, beckoning me deeper into the forest. Dawn should bring light, but there was nothing but darkness in this forest. The fog seemed to stretch on eternally, leaving no way for me to know which direction I came from. The more I walked, the more I realized the woods were completely silent. Not a single bird nor animal could be seen or heard. Not even a gust of wind dared to blow through here. I often find silence comforting, but not like this. This was a nightmare come to life. All of a sudden the silence was broken by the sound of footsteps crunching hard over the leaves. I whipped my head around in an attempt to see the figure behind me.

Him.

Just like in every picture I've ever seen. Red hair sticking up, and freckles dotting his pale face. George Kent stood before me, looking exactly the same as when he disappeared, even though he should be at least thirty by now.

“H-h-how” I stuttered

He  smiled, “I was looking for Oliver Wade, you should recognize the name, the one listed above mine?” His voice was completely inhuman, and chilled me to the core.

I tried to run, but my feet were stuck in place, the realization that I truly could not move sent a new shock of horror through my veins. 

“Go ahead, ask me whatever you want”george-who-was-not-george asked, grinning

“Max, is he..safe?” I gasped

The creature looked a mix between shock and disappointment at my question “your friend is fine, he just has a bit of a..foggy memory of the last few days”

Good, Max is safe I thought. Whatever happened to me next, at least I knew Max was okay.

“Every fourteen years, a new person disappears, and then is forgotten” George said thoughtfully

“Emma, Lana, Tim, Mary, Oliver, and then of course, me. Now it appears you are next.” His horrible grin returned, “Katie Park, are you ready to know how it feels to be forgotten?”

Never would I have started to research all of this, if I had known those would be the last words I’d ever hear.

On the morning of Wednesday, October sixteenth, 1997, seventeen year old Katie Park wandered into the forest behind foggy hollow, and never walked out. That was fourteen years ago, and still no one knows what happened. That is what I plan to find out.