Not much happens in the small town of Dawson. The quiet, utopian town in the middle of nowhere is its own little piece of paradise. The little suburban town has a homey feeling.
That was until the mysterious disappearance of sixteen year old Leila Harold.
Maybe the tiny town was becoming antsy, and it needed something, anything, to happen. Maybe the people were becoming stultified with the same everyday life, going through their days like thoughtless zombies: wake up, eat breakfast, brush teeth, get dressed, go to school, greet friends - or so-called friends - go to class, go back home, do homework, have dinner, go to bed… and repeat. “The days turned into months and the months into years,” that clichéd saying rang true for the people in Dawson.
Things were shaken up when Leila suddenly disappeared. The news of her disappearance had spread like wild fire; it was the talk of the town. People in Dawson started to question the cause of her disappearance and started asking suspicious questions. Everyone had a theory, even if they couldn’t back it up with any facts. Some said she was threatened and had to leave, whilst others would swear she was murdered. No one knew for sure what had happened… at least that’s what they would tell you.
Most people thought Leila Harold was a quiet, sweet girl, but some knew better - she had a temper. Getting on her bad side meant you were committing social suicide. On a good day at Dawson High, Leila would only degrade two girls. Maybe that’s why Madeline Clark, a former classmate, moved away; the constant din of Leila’s abuse might have been too much for her but, then again, maybe it was just that her parents really did get relocated for their jobs. For the purpose of the story, however, we’ll go with the former.
One gloomy Sunday, Leila didn’t show for Church. People assumed she was sick, naturally. But what most uneducated people of Dawson didn’t know is that on Saturday night, Leila told her parents she would spend the night at her friend Kara Humphrey’s house. Leila left at 7 pm in her new cherry red VW convertible with a tan top, a far too extravagant gift from over zealous parents, and made her way to the Humphrey house. Somewhere along Highway 221, rocking out to her favorite band, Pink Floyd, Leila saw a shadow in the back seat of her car. She dialed 9-1-1, but all the operator could hear was a muffled voice whisper meekly, “Help,” followed by the screech of car brakes, the crunch of metal, and the breaking of glass. Hearing the deafening sound, the 9-1-1 operator sent a dispatch team to Highway 221 to check it out. When officers arrived, however, there was no body to be found, just the remains of a cherry red VW convertible with a tan top.
Maybe for the purpose of needing an interesting topic to write about, I was the culprit in Leila’s mysterious disappearance. But even if I was, I would make sure to cover my tracks. And so as our story comes to a close, we are left having to ponder what tragic end met Leila Harold, if any end at all.