Candor and Curiosity (A Slenderman Romance) [REWRITTEN]

Prologue

May 1999

The abandoned sandcastle had become an altar for the missing child.

Louise May's unfinished creation lay undisturbed in the middle of the sandpit, surrounded by wilted daffodils, dried-up tulips, and the empty stalks of dandelions whose spores had long drifted away. The girl's best friend had placed Louise's favorite Raggedy-Ann doll at the base of the castle. It was an incentive for her to return to them. To break loose from the arms of her captor and run as fast as her chubby little legs would carry her—back to the sandbox, back to the classroom, back to her sleepless father and the mother who had attempted suicide twice since she disappeared.

Back to the classmates who had become shells of their former selves: sulking, grim-faced children who refused to play outside no matter how sunny the weather.

It disturbed their teacher how they would gather together in the corners of the classroom at recess, speaking to each other in low tones, never raising their voices above a whisper. How the girls congregated in little circles only to stare silently at the dolls in their hands. How the boys ran the toy trucks and cars quietly along the floor, no longer bothering to mimic explosions or collisions with their mouths.

They no longer sprang out of their seats and crowded around her desk whenever she brought in the Friday Cookies. They only half-paid attention to their lessons, murmured their responses to her questions, and glanced anxiously at the wall clock until it finally struck three.

Nothing the teacher did or said could put the life back into the classroom. She'd reassured the children every day since Louise's disappearance that everything would be alright; that the police officers were working very hard to find Louise and bring her back safely.

She got wary eyes and forced smiles in return. These kids no longer trusted her.

And how could they, when it was her negligence that had caused it in the first place?

It was the first of the month, recess. Principal Fleischer had ambled into her classroom and plopped a large stack of paperwork on her desk, requesting that they be filled out as soon as possible.

There really was no hurry. Mrs. Fleischer had always been a reasonable woman, flexible with deadlines and not at all strict about that kind of thing. Standing in the gloom of the classroom that same evening, enduring the endless questions of the police officers and the gaze of the girl's distraught parents, Lydia Bermingham wondered why she had felt so compelled to finish all that paperwork by the end of the day. Why instead of just doing her job and going out to fetch the children herself, she sent two of them to round up the rest.

She didn't understand it. Her incredulity at her own stupidity made it impossible for her to cry. Weeks passed and she still could not cry. She felt as if someone she knew, a friend maybe, had made the mistake. Not her. 

No, not her.

She thought the two kids she'd sent had done the job.  By the time the bell rang, she thought all the seats in her classroom were filled. It turned out that all the seats were filled except for one. The one at the very back. The one that belonged to Louise May.

She was half-way through the roll-call list when she called Louise's name and received only chilling silence in response. The teacher looked up from her roll-call list, peered over many shoulders, and caught sight of the empty seat.

The teacher felt her scalp tighten with panic. Her widened eyes sought out Elizabeth Black and Author Von Hasselbach in the room of sweaty faces. They sat side-by-side in the left corner of the classroom. She asked them where Louise May was; if they had seen her when they went to call the others inside.