MidReal Story
Vanishing Shadows: The Quest of Young Max
Scenario: A man named Max who just turned 13 and has set out to look for his parents who mysteriously disappeared 10 years ago
Create my version of this story
Max Jennings
determined son, searching for his parents, lean with sharp eyes, resilient and resourceful
Sarah Jennings
Max's older sister and protector, sibling to Max, tall with curly hair, caring and cautious
Detective James Carter
family friend and lead investigator in the case, friend to Max's parents, rugged with a sharp mind, dedicated and secretive
Chapter 1
I was thirteen years old when I found the letter.
It was hidden in a box of my dad’s old things, buried deep in the back of the attic.
The letter was addressed to me, and it was from my parents.
They wrote it ten years ago, just before they disappeared.
The police said they were dead, but I never believed them.
Not for a second.
I knew my parents were out there somewhere, and now I had proof.
The letter wasn’t much—just a few lines scrawled on a piece of notebook paper—but it was enough to give me hope.
And so, with that hope burning bright in my chest, I set out on a quest to find them.
A quest that would take me to the darkest corners of our town and beyond, into the heart of the wilderness where no one ever went.
I would find them, and I would bring them home where they belonged.
It was as simple as that.
My faith never wavered; my parents were alive, and I would see them again someday.
No one else shared my belief—not even Sarah.
They all said I was crazy, but they didn’t understand.
My parents were out there somewhere; I knew it in my heart.
And now I had proof: the letter from my dad’s box—my letter—that told me everything I needed to know.
I still remember finding it like it was yesterday, even though it happened over five years ago.
It was a warm summer night, and the crickets sang their sweet song as I lay in bed, tossing and turning restlessly under the thin cotton sheets.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right—something was off—and no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t ignore it.
So, after hours of lying awake and staring at the ceiling, I finally climbed out of bed and tiptoed down the hall to the attic.
Most people hated going up there—it was dark and cramped and smelled like mothballs—but not me.
The attic was my favorite place in the whole house, full of treasures just waiting to be discovered.
And on that particular night, it held the most important thing in my life: the letter from my parents.
It was tucked inside a shoebox at the back of a stack of old newspapers, just like it always was.
I’d read it a million times before—not that there was much to read—but on that night, something about it felt different.
I found the letter in a dusty old box in the attic.
It was addressed to me and my sister, Sarah, but I knew it was meant for both of us.
The handwriting was unmistakably our father’s—neat and precise with a little flourish at the end of each word—and I could picture him sitting at his desk, pen in hand, scribbling out those words as fast as he could.
It wasn’t much—a few simple lines scrawled on a piece of notebook paper—but to me, it was everything.
My whole world changed that night in the attic; I finally had proof that my parents were alive.
Sarah wasn’t so sure; she’d had her doubts from the beginning.
"Max," she said softly, reaching out to touch my arm.
"I don’t know if this is real. We’ve been looking for them for ten years now. Why would they leave this here? Why wouldn’t they come back sooner?"
But I didn’t care about any of that.
All that mattered was that I finally had something to go on—a clue—as to where my parents might be.
They’d been gone for ten years, and there was still no sign of them.
After the first few months, most people gave up hope; they said it was time to move on, time to let go.
I knew my parents were alive—I could feel it in my bones—and I wasn’t about to give up on them now, not after all this time.
It had been six years since I found the letter, and Sarah was right: we hadn’t heard from our parents in all that time.
But that didn’t mean they were dead.
No one had ever found their bodies, and until they did—or until we got some kind of proof like a DNA match—I refused to believe it.
The police had given up on the case years ago, after three long years of searching with no leads to follow.
They told us our parents were most likely dead or had run off together to start a new life.
And for Sarah’s sake, I was willing to accept that—it was easier than living in limbo—but not for me.
I refused to give up on them until I knew for sure what happened to them.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" my sister asked, watching me pack from the doorway.
"Are you ready for whatever is out there?"
"I have to be," I replied.
"You’re going to get hurt," she said, her voice breaking with emotion.
"I don’t want that for you."
I stopped packing and looked at her, meeting her gaze with all the determination I could muster.
"Sarah, I need to know what happened to them," I said.
"If they’re dead…then I need to accept it and move on. If they’re alive…then I need to find them and bring them home."
Sarah gave me a sad little smile and shook her head.
"You really think you can do it? You think you can find them after all this time?"
She sighed and nodded slowly.
"Okay, just be careful, okay? They might not be happy to see us if we show up out of nowhere."
I paused for a moment, considering that possibility.
They hadn’t contacted us in ten years, despite the fact that I’d written them dozens of letters over the years trying to reach out to them.
What if they didn’t want anything to do with us anymore?
What if they sent us away again?
But I pushed those thoughts aside; they were my parents, and no matter what had happened in the past ten years, they still loved me and Sarah.
"They might be dangerous," she continued, voicing her fears at last.
"What if they’re in trouble? What if they’re running from someone or something, and we get caught up in it?"
I nodded slowly, considering that possibility as well.
Our parents had been gone for ten years without a trace; there was no way to know what they’d been doing all this time, whether they were criminals on the run or had made enemies searching for them.
But I was willing to take that risk, because I loved my parents more than anything in the world, and I needed to know the truth about what happened to them—even if it meant finding out they were really dead after all.
As though on cue, footsteps sounded on the stairs behind us, and Sarah quickly snatched the letter out of my hand just as my door creaked open and our visitor stepped inside our room: Detective James Carter.
He’d been one of my father’s closest friends when he was alive—before he disappeared—and a lead investigator on their case ten years ago.
"Hey, kids," he said with a smile.
He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes and stubble covering his jaw.
"I heard about your little adventure today. How are you holding up?"
He was asking about Sarah’s confrontation earlier that day, about our argument over whether or not to go looking for our parents.
Sarah shrugged and mumbled something noncommittal, but I didn’t say anything; I knew he wouldn’t like what I had to say.
He sighed and shook his head.
"Listen…there’s really no point in going after them," he said.
"They’re probably dead by now anyway, so you need to get used to the idea of being on your own from here on out."
"But—"
"No buts," he interrupted me with a stern look.
"My hands are tied: there are no leads, and the department is breathing down my neck to close this case and move on. You two need to do the same."
He paused, studying us carefully before continuing in a more gentle tone.
"You’re like family to us—you know that, right? My wife and kids love you guys like their own siblings. If you don’t want to stay here at home alone with just your sister to take care of you…you could always come live with us." "I think we’re better off here," Sarah said quickly before I could agree.
I couldn’t leave now—not when I’d just found the letter and discovered that everything the police had told us was wrong.
"They wouldn’t be safe," she continued, shooting me a warning glance as she spoke.