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The Disappearance at 3327 Pinewood Drive[]

I used to be the sheriff of a small town in Michigan. It was your average rural community. The town sat next to a lake. This may not seem relevant at first, but trust me. It’s important to the story. As you might expect, it was often very quiet. Not much happened at all, really. Just people going about their daily business. However, the events that occurred on the night of September 12th, 1986 shook the place to its core.

That night started out like any other. I had to chase those Wallace boys away from Mr. Turner’s cornfields again. I drove up to the little building that served as our sheriff’s office. I parked my Chevrolet Caprice and headed inside. Liz, our secretary, sat at the front desk trying to solve a crossword puzzle.

“Evening, sheriff.” she said, barely raising her head.

I took off my hat and coat and placed them on a rack that was bolted into the wall. I greeted my three deputies Foster, Sanford, and Brooks. I entered my office and sat down, delighted to be able to relax a bit. Unfortunately, my respite was cut short. The phone on my desk rang.

I picked up the receiver. “Clearwater Springs Sheriff’s Office, this is Sheriff Thompson speaking.” I said.

“Sheriff, the kids are drinking at the park again.” came the answer.

It was Mrs. Helen Carter. She liked to think of herself as the town’s guardian. However, she was more of a vigilante who made little things into a big deal. As a result of this, most of our calls were just her making complaints or reporting minor activities. Nobody at the department took her seriously.

“I’ll take a look.” I replied. I immediately hung up and walked out of my office.

“Mrs. Carter called again.” I announced. Brooks and Foster laughed. Sanford simply shook his head and rolled his eyes. Liz retained her laser focus, choosing to ignore everyone and work on her crossword puzzle.

“Anybody willing to go with me?” I asked.

“I guess I will.” Sanford answered. “Wonderful.” I replied.

I put on my hat and threw my coat around my shoulders. We walked out to my car and climbed in. I turned it on and pulled out of the parking lot. As we neared the park, I could make out the silhouette of several teens gathered around a case of beer, guzzling can after can. I activated the spotlight and flashed it at the delinquents. They froze in fear like deer in headlights. I turned on the red and blue lights and gave the siren a quick whoop. I then rolled down the window.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I shouted. The kids began to scatter, running every which way. Sanford and I immediately bolted into action. “Hey, get back here!” I cried, chasing after two that had run in the same direction. I recognized one of the teens as being none other than Brian Walker, the punk who was dating my daughter Heather.

“Stop running, bastard!” I yelled. “I know what you do with my Heather!”

Brian looked back and flashed me a smirk. Being younger and more athletic, he was able to widen the gap between us. Eventually, I became extremely winded and had to stop for air.

“Damn you!” I hollered, panting. I regained my breath and walked back to my car. Sanford was already there, examining the ground with a flashlight.

“Stupid teens.” I muttered. “Let’s go.” Sanford nodded and got in the car. I turned off the spotlight and revved the engine. I pulled the car out of the parking lot and drove towards Pinewood Drive, where Brian lived. Which one was it? I thought. Oh, right. 3327. As we approached, I noticed something odd. Brain was standing in the middle of the road, staring blankly. I followed his gaze to the right side of the street and what I saw made my eyes widen.

The house at 3327 Pinewood Drive had disappeared. There was nothing there, just a large crater.

I immediately ran to Brian. “Jesus Christ.” I murmured. “Where the hell did it go?” Brian turned his head to look at me. He said nothing. Sanford was already out of the car and combing the area where the house had been.

“Get in the car, I’m gonna have a look around.” I said, my voice shaking.

Brian obeyed. I unclipped the flashlight from my belt and shined it around the edge of the crater. Sanford was down by the lake inspecting the Walker’s boat lift. “Nothing unusual here,” he called. I walked back to my car and grabbed a roll of caution tape from the trunk. I strung up the tape all around the perimeter of the crater.

“Looks almost as if someone just dug up the house and hauled it away.” Sanford observed.

I felt my eyelids beginning to droop. “Let’s call it a night.” I said.

I climbed back into the car and began driving towards the sheriff’s office.

“Were your folks home when you left?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, and so was my brother and sister.” Brian mumbled.

“You can sleep at the office. We’ll figure all this out tomorrow.” I said.

“Why can’t I crash at your place?” Brian asked, beginning to regain his old self.

I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to reach back behind my seat and strangle the kid.

“I think you know why.” I growled.

We pulled into the parking lot and came to a stop. I practically dragged Brian by the collar all the way up the short flight of stairs. Liz, Foster and Brooks had already left for the night so the whole building was silent. I grabbed a blanket from my office and tossed it to Brian.

“Don’t mess with anything or go anywhere.” I said gruffly. “Someone will be here to check on you in the morning.”

Brian nodded. I walked out of the station and got into my car. I drove home in anticipation for some much needed shut-eye. I quietly opened the door to my house and stepped inside. I was delighted to find a large slice of pie waiting for me in the fridge. After wolfing down the pie I trudged upstairs and got ready for bed. I quietly slipped into bed next to my wife and fell asleep.

The next morning I woke up early. I headed out to the sheriff’s office to check on Brian. Liz was already there and had given Brian a bowl of instant oatmeal. The only other person at the office was Foster. Brooks and Sanford were out on patrol. Suddenly, I had a thought. Somewhere we could start our search for the Walker family and their house.

“Let’s go out for a cruise on the lake.” I said. “Sheriff, shouldn’t we be focusing on the house?” Foster asked. “Yes but I have a hunch.” I replied.

Foster and I walked down the edge of the lake. There was a small dock nearby. A blue motor boat was tied to the dock. Foster and I cast off and began searching the lake for any signs of the house.


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