Spectral HORROR | Season 2, Episode 27.
Chilling Creepypastas (Ep. 14) | "Michael is Still Missing" Creepypasta by Leo Martin
I would like to thank Leo Martin (worldofleo) for letting me use this story.
Michael Is Still Missing
Most of us, if we really try and remember, can think of that one childhood friend who stood above the rest. Perhaps you’re lucky enough to still know this individual. Maybe as the years progressed, so did your relationship. Others of you, though, well, maybe you can relate to my story.
I had a best friend when I was younger. His name was Michael. We spent hours playing make believe together, attending sleep overs, and sharing life. But, like most childhood friends, one day we were no longer in the same space. I didn’t have the pleasure of growing older with Michael.
But what was really strange about Michael is that the reason we didn’t get to grow up together is because he went missing when we were in third grade. This would have put us at nine years old. It’s been twenty plus years since this incident, and yet, it feels like it was yesterday. When I close my eyes, I still see his dark eyes and shocked expression. It was the last time I saw him.
Childhood friendships come and go, but some outlast even the most dire of circumstances. I felt like this was the case. And it killed me. We would have been friends for years. I just know it. We were inseparable during those early years.
See, my aunt lived next door to my good friend. Every time I’d go to their house during the summer, I’d inevitably spend it with Michael. We’d swim in the pool, spy on people in the park, and eat as many microwavable pizzas as possible. It’s just what we did it in those early years.
Then one night, Michael disappeared. The last words he ever told me were, “Don’t tell anyone I’m leaving.”
What do you do with words like that? He made me swear to it. Michael was convinced that something bad was coming his way. Why a nine-year old felt this way, I’m not sure, but he was convinced that someone was trying to get close to him.
It all started with this weird incident at the park. There was this nice little park that we’d run to most summer days. We’d play on the equipment and kick a soccer ball around occasionally. But our favorite activity was climbing trees. This part was chalk full of them, too.
One night around nine, we went to the park and climbed a tree. It was deserted that night, but we didn’t mind. We felt like we had the entire park to ourselves. We must have sat up in that tree for a good hour or so too. And then we saw something strange on the other side of the park. There was a small child walking by themselves in the dark. No parents or adults could be seen in sight.
There was a car that was slowly driving next to the park. It was keeping pace behind the child. Suddenly, the car hit its break and someone jumped out. They grabbed the kid and forced him into the car. Without an ounce of hesitation, the door slammed and the car sped off into the distance.
Michael and I looked at each other: we knew we had to do something.
Later that night we called the cops. We described in detail what we had seen. The cops were able to track down and find the car that matched our description. But they never found the kid we saw forced into the car. It just kind of went away.
When Michael started to get scared, I knew something must be wrong. He was always the brave one. He used to look at me and say, ‘You have to take a chance. It doesn’t matter if you fail–at least you can say you tried.”
That was his mindset for EVERYTHING. He didn’t care about failure or what others might think about him. So this was all the more alarming to me when he was so scared he wanted to leave town. I asked him what his plan was–where he’d go, what he’d do, where he’d stay. He didn’t know the answer to any of these. He just knew he had to leave.
So, one late summer night he left. He told me not to tell anyone that he was going. He said it would be better for all of us if he was gone. I told him I couldn’t hold in a lie for that long. I didn’t sleep that entire night. I just lay in my bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how long he’d be gone for.
The next morning the phone calls started coming to the house. Michael’s mom, obviously, was concerned. I just thought he was having an adventure for a while, but when one day missing turned to two and three, I really started to get worried.
The police discovered a number of notes in Michael’s room. These notes were written in crayons and markers, really juvenile stuff, but they said threatening messages:
You shouldn’t have called the cops, you little bastard.
I watch you sleep. I’ll come into your room soon enough.
Your mom is kind of pretty. Maybe I’ll take her too.
The last note that they found, though, was especially scary. It simply said:
I’m going to kill you and your little friend. Just wait and see.
Days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. And then the saddest thing happened. We all just believed that he was never coming back. He wasn’t merely missing anymore–now he was gone.
The notes puzzled police and Michael’s parents. They asked me about them, but they only thing I could think of was the car from the park. After searching for it again, they found nothing.
This happened so many years ago and it’s never left me. Michael went missing in 1994 and he was never heard from again. It’s been said that hundreds of thousands of children are reported missing every year. It was especially bad in the eighties and nineties. I keep thinking that one day I’ll run into Michael again. I’ll be shopping in the store or driving down the street and I’ll see him and know it’s him.
I guess that’s kind of wishful thinking, but I’m not above that kind of thing. I hope and pray that he’s okay, wherever he is, and he’s getting ready for his life to begin in a great way.
I’m still in contact with his mom and dad. They’ve never forgotten their son and every year they put out an add to see if anyone has seen him. No one knows what he looks like now, of course, but they believe when they see him, they’ll know it’s him. I hope they’re right.
But then something strange happened the other day. I was browsing Facebook of all places and I came across a profile. The name was the exact same as my friend. I looked at it thoroughly and all, but I couldn’t figure out exactly what I was looking at. He only had two pictures on his Facebook. One was a nondescript picture of a house and the other was a picture from many years ago. The picture looked so familiar. I could tell that is had been cropped because there was an arm draped over his shoulder.
My stomach filled sick. I knew I’d seen the photo before. I got up and ran towards the photo album. I paged through it and found the picture from the profile picture. It was me and Michael. That was my arm in the cropped picture.
I sent a message to this random person on Facebook. About ten minutes later, a message came back my way. All the message said was: I knew you’d find me someday.
Spectral HORROR is a series on YouTube which narrates true and fictional scary stories.
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