It all began two (1998-1999) years ago when I was a Boy Scout
Troop Leader. I was a little over thirty and beginning to feel my age. We were
planning a large car campout for the week after school was out, and all was going
good. The boys were happy and couldn't wait to get out of school, but I wasn't
feeling up to a week in the woods.
Well, time passed quickly and soon the day of our departure
was upon us. We had rented a large bus and had packed it full with our troop gear,
then loaded the kids. Me and several other adults went ahead to clear the trail and
set up camp. The bus was supposed to be less than a few hours behind.
When night fell with no bus, we started calling around and
finally decided to notify the sheriff. He and his deputy searched the small town and
found nothing, so they decided to take the one lane road up to the camp to see if they had
gotten stuck along the way. I was glad to see the Sheriff;s car pull up, but
suddenly realized our dire situation when he stepped out of the car with a sunken
face. If he had not seen the bus on the way up and it was not here nor in the town,
then where were the kids?
We followed the sheriff back down the small winding road
leaving our gear behind, only to find the bus and kids still missing. Exhausted, we
returned to our homes, hoping to start a search party in the morning. The sheriff
had finished notifying all the parents the night before, and we had a search team of at
least fifty people by late morning. Several hours later one of our teams found tire
tracks heading out into the woods. My team was the first to reach there, and we
decided to go ahead and see if we could find the bus.
It was located about one mile from the small road, and as we
approached we noticed the area was unscathed except for the tire marks behind the
bus. No footprints, no noise, no sign anyone was there. When we got to the
door we noticed it was closed and the stairwell was full of water. Who could have
closed the door, and where was everybody? Another from my troop and I pried open
the door and climbed inside, letting the water rush out around our feet. I looked
straight back to the gear and my friend bent down to check under the seats, finding
nothing. There was no one anywhere, no sound or movement, and yet the gear was
there, and the door had been closed. I became frantic and jumped out of the bus,
then turned around and climbed back in and around my friend, who was still standing and
staring. Where was everybody?
I suddenly noticed a faint shuffling sound from behind the
luggage, and the other man ran to my side, both of digging frantically, throwing gear over
the next seat. My heart almost gave way when I saw the little boy huddled in a fetal
position, clutching a family photo. I hugged the boy so hard I thought I might have
hurt him, but he still didn't respond. We carried him almost a quarter of a mile
before finding the other team, and together carried him out of the woods.
At the hospital with the boys' parents, we tried to get him to
respond to us while the other teams kept searching. After nearly two weeks without
finding anything or even getting a sound out of the child we had to give up the
search. There was just not enough manpower in such a remote area. I think it
was four weeks after we had found the child that they got him to stretch out and lay down;
he had been holding himself so tightly that he had rubbed himself raw. We still had
not been able to get the slightest sound out of him, except for the occasional moan from
hunger.
The town had almost given up in despair when he finally came
to and cried for his dad who was there in less than ten minutes. When his dad showed
up the child wrapped himself around his father and said, "It is the due time, go and
receive the ones born among our peoples and rejoice in their return, for not a hair on
their heads has been harmed. The Ethereal life has been given among you and I am
but a messenger. Now go!" With that, the child shuddered and died in his
fathers' arms.
We returned to the bus where it had been left and found all
sixteen children, but no driver. Parents rejoiced as their children rushed out to
them, and others claimed this was a miracle of God. I am not sure of the importance
or connection, but it was thirty two days after they had gone missing that we found the
children - exactly two days for every child.
My life has returned to normal since then, and everything
seems the same, but no one can explain the disappearances. Some say aliens, others
say God, but what I want to know is, what is the the importance of the Ethereal or was
that made up by the father? Where did the water come from that was in the bus, and
why didn't the children remember anything from the thirty two days? I swear on my
life that this is a true story, and that none of it has been taken out of context. I
will never forget these events, as they have been burned in the back of my mind...ever
present.
-Unsigned.
