Everton

They called Darren Everton’s death a “fade.” It was a specific style of disappearance where the subject dematerialized while within a large group. No one know what happened to Darren. One second he was standing there— the next there was an empty pile of black American Eagle jeans and a thrift shop sweater settled over a greasy pair of Doc’s.

Everton’s disappearance wasn’t the first that happened in Liston. But it was the first where the subject didn’t have any reason to depart. Everton was the third son of a successful banker. He was known as a joyous party boy— more likely to buy you a drink than cause you any trouble. He had just started a podcast with a friend called “Voidwalk” which sounded promising until the authorities realized it was about blackout stories. They did know one thing—- rich white boys don’t walk away lightly from podcast projects.

The Liston authorities worked on the case for weeks to no avail. Darren’s father, Arthur, pushed them to do more. But it’s hard when thirty witnesses and video footage all showed the same thing— instant disappearance.

National news outlets sniffed around in the beginning— but the story petered out after no other clues could be found. Several horror podcasts picked up the project— devoting themselves to creating a conspiracy style pin map trying to connect Darren’s disappearance with other disappearances across the country. It was no use. Darren wasn’t anywhere to be found.

Years passed and the story of Darren Everton faded into obscurity.

It wasn’t until a brilliantly chaotic podcast critic on a catalogue project found “Voidwalk” and realized that episodes were still being released. The mysterious critic got in touch with Darren’s podcast partner, Cormac Langley, who registered shock at the new episodes. Cormac hadn’t worked on it since Darren disappeared. He and the critic (who only referred to themselves as the ‘Critic) heard nothing but the sizzle and pop of background recording noises in the podcast. Occasional bursts of static would punctuate the low silence. There were twenty episodes— all untitled.

The Critic layered the podcast audio over each other— as they were all two minutes and thirty seven seconds. They amped up the volume and turned on distortion stabilizers— what the critic heard was Darren Everton beyond their dimension. He mumbled to himself as he described what sounded like the inside of a vast, glow light filled cave. He didn’t sound scared— instead, he sounded insatiably curious. At the end of the recording was a distant eerie call— telling the Critic that wherever Darren Everton was— he wasn’t alone.