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MidReal Story
The Vanishing Point
Scenario:Una madre Susan Brow regresa a Madrid para mostrarle a su hija la tumba de su padre. El viaje se convierte en la peor pesadilla de una madre cuando Jorge desaparece repentinamente sin dejar rastro en el aeropuerto de Madrid
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Susan Brow
She is a mother visiting Spain with her son. She is determined, anxious, and resilient. Susan travels to Madrid to show her son the grave of his father. Their journey becomes a search when Jorge, her companion for the trip, vanishes at the airport. Despite the chaos and fear, Susan remains focused on finding her missing son in a vast and unfamiliar city.
Ben Brow
He is Susan's son traveling with her in Spain. He is observant, emotional, and hopeful. Ben shares a close bond with his mother and is deeply affected by the loss of his father. As they travel through Madrid, he provides eyewitness accounts of Jorge's disappearance. Despite the turmoil, Ben remains a source of support for Susan as they search for him.
Jorge
He is Susan's guide and driver during her trip to Madrid. He is helpful, reliable, and mysterious. Jorge assists Susan and her son throughout their journey, providing them with transportation and insight into Spanish culture. His sudden disappearance at the airport leaves Susan anxious and determined to find him, despite the challenges of navigating an unfamiliar city.
I came to Spain to show my son the grave of his father.
But now, only a day and a half later, I was beginning to think that it might be me who ends up buried here.
My heart was racing, my breath coming in short gasps, my eyes wide with fear as I stared at my son.
He looked back at me, equally frightened.
"What do you mean Jorge disappeared?"
I demanded.
My voice was shaking.
"We have to get out of here," Ben said.
"Now."
I nodded, still in shock.
It couldn’t be happening.
Not like this.
Not when we were so close to leaving.
We were at the airport, in the terminal building.
I’d just gone to the bathroom while Ben waited for me with our luggage.
When I came out, he was standing there, looking frantic.
"Where’s Jorge?" I’d asked him immediately.
"He was right here," Ben had answered, his voice trembling with fear.
We searched the area, calling out Jorge’s name and getting no answer.
We went to the security office and asked if anyone had seen him or if he had been detained for some reason.
But they knew nothing.
Standing near the security desk, I pulled my phone out of my purse with trembling fingers.
Ben hovered close, watching me as I scrolled through my contacts to find Jorge’s number.
The fluorescent lights overhead cast harsh shadows on his face, and the announcements over the loudspeaker echoed through the terminal.
I pressed the call button and held my breath as I waited for him to answer.
One ring.
Two rings.
Three rings.
"El número marcado no está disponible," a mechanical voice said in Spanish.
The number you have dialed is not available.
I tried again, adding the country code this time, but got the same result.
Ben grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the desk as a group of security officers walked past us, their radios crackling with static. My mind raced as I tried to think of what to do next.
I reached into my purse and pulled out my wallet, searching for Jorge’s business card.
As I flipped it over, a note scrawled in his handwriting caught my eye: "Trust no one."
I led Ben through the crowd, holding his hand tightly as I showed Jorge’s photo to people passing by.
No one recognized him.
We walked to the information desk and asked if anyone had seen him.
The woman behind the counter shook her head, but then her eyes flickered to a small TV screen mounted on the wall behind her.
It was showing security footage of the terminal, and I could see our luggage sitting alone in front of a pillar.
I checked the timestamp on the footage and saw that it matched the time when Jorge had disappeared.
I watched as he walked away from our luggage, looking calm and relaxed, not like someone who was in danger or running from something.
He walked up to the pillar and looked directly at the camera before disappearing around the corner.
The woman behind the desk noticed me watching the footage and quickly turned off the TV.
"Señora, I’m sorry," she said, "but I can’t show you any more. It’s against our privacy protocols."
I nodded, understanding.
But I needed to know more.
"Can you at least tell me what time that was?"
I asked her.
She hesitated for a moment before answering, "It was 10:47 this morning."
I pulled out a pen and scribbled down the time in my notebook.
As I did, my eyes fell on Jorge’s business card again. And then I saw it - his signature, written in bold black ink across the bottom of the card.
It was the same handwriting as on the warning note he’d left me.
I felt a chill run down my spine as I realized that he must have written it recently, probably after we arrived at the airport.
But why?
And what did he mean by it?
Trust no one?
Who was he talking about?
Ben tugged on my arm, pulling me out of my thoughts.
"Mom," he said softly, "we need to go."
I grip his hand tighter and push through the crowd, heading toward the sliding glass doors that lead out of the terminal.
The morning sun beats down on the taxi queue outside, casting long shadows across the pavement.
But I don’t stop moving until we reach the end of the line.
Then I pause, scanning the faces of departing passengers one last time, hoping against hope that Jorge will reappear.
My phone says 11:15 AM - only thirty minutes since Jorge disappeared.
I pull out his business card again and study it carefully.
The contact information is printed in a neat, professional font, but the handwriting on the back is messy and hurried, like he wrote it in a rush.
I turn it over in my hands, feeling the weight of it between my fingers.
It’s just a simple piece of paper, but it holds so much significance. Ben looks up at me with wide eyes.
"Mom?"
I glance around nervously, feeling like we’re being watched.
And then I notice a security camera mounted above the exit doors, its lens pointed directly at us.
I quickly pull out my phone and snap a photo of it, trying to capture as much detail as possible.