Never To Be Found




She and Daddy cover me in black and purple and red spots…and they hurt. She said it was because I was naughty but I tried to be good

Daddy said Mummy is gone

She said Mummy abandoned me because I was bad

But I know the truth

I know Mummy is dead

Mummy I miss you

Everything hurts

Why did you leave me?

So hungry

Mummy where are you?

Mummy, you told me to hide….

I did not understand

Until now

They're coming for ME.

I'm afraid. Please find me. Please.

He's calling me. Please find me!

He's coming. He's calling. Please FIND ME.

Why won't you HELP me? Please FIND me.

Mum please! Why did you leave me?

Please help me, please find me.

You said you love me.



His partner, a woman with sharp features and a fair complexion, looked at him with a grave expression.

"Sadly, there are more of these monsters out there," she said.

"I would really love to believe this little girl wrote this using red crayon," the woman said as she traced her long thin finger on the crude red etchings on the wall.

"Don't we all?" the man replied, placing the knife he was examining inside a large plastic bag and labelled it as 'evidence'.

She smiled and faced the wall with the red markings,

"I swear I'll find who did this to you,"

Her partner nodded in agreement, hoping beyond hope that she heard them.

The two investigators worked continuously on the mysterious case. And three days later the fruit of their labours came, they had found a photograph, with frayed and grey edges, hidden inside a crack on that wall they found with scarlet etchings.

The photograph was of two people: a woman, who looked as if she was in her mid-twenties with dirty blonde hair and a wide smile holding on tightly to a young girl, who looked as if she was not a day over five and had the same features as the woman with her. The two looked happy, and oblivious of what would happen in their near future, frozen in their world of ink and paper.

Behind the photograph, written with black ink and with a thin and hurried cursive, so unlike the haunting red etchings, was a letter.

My dear Luna,

For a long time I had suspected your father to be unfaithful, and he was but, please, do not think ill of him. I was not supposed to know, I was never supposed to know, he was planning on ending me.

My Luna, if you find this, RUN. Leave everything behind, I beg you. Leave immediately. For I know he will do the same to you. I love you so much. Never forget me, my dear Luna. Be safe, be strong, and most of all, be brave.


"I figured it out!" the woman called to her partner. The two were currently inside their office.

"Let's hear it then," he said, rubbing his hands together.

"So, I figured, if she knew she was going to do, she must have said her good-bye's to her daughter. Then, this man, 'Luna's' father called her"

"Be safe, be strong" whispered a woman with long blonde hair and a pale complexion.

"Get down here!" yelled her husband.

"She came down, and," she said, making the word 'and' longer, "he must he told her something. Something that would make her calm, quiet. If she wasn't, then the whole neighborhood would have known and he'd be arrested. No, he must have given her something to ensure her silence…"

"Come here, closer!" her husband commanded.

"Yes?" the woman with blonde hair replied quietly—she knew what was going to happen.

"Dear, I love you. No matter what you do, I will always love you," the woman with blonde hair said with a gentle voice.

Her husband faltered for a second, doubt and guilt were beginning to creep in. He regained his composure, after he had assured himself he was doing the 'right' thing.

He revealed a long knife he had been keeping behind his back. The woman felt her tears fall.

She did not scream, nor did she beg. She made no sound except for the small gasp that had escaped her lips as the knife made contact. Stabbed by the man she loved.

"And, I guess," she trailed off.

"He killed her," he finished for her, rather bluntly.

"I think that's how she died," she said burying her head onto the palm of her hands. "Her body could be anywhere!" she groaned.

"We'll find her—them," her assured her. "You know, the girl, Luna, could have died the same way as her mother."

The woman looked at her partner through her hands with curious eyes. Slowly she removed her hands and leaned eagerly on her seat.

"Let's hear it then," she said.

"I'm assuming it was days before they had found her," said the man, launching to how he thought Luna might have died.

Luna hid there for days before someone had found her. It was her wretched step-mother who had found her, curled up in a broom cupboard.

"You!" she screeched, "what are you doing here?"

Luna felt her spine shiver as the horrid woman grabbed her arm and drag her towards the kitchen, all the while shouting like a petulant child: "JACK!"

"They must have pitied her enough not to kill her right then and there," he had a look of pure abhorrence.

"We can't kill her," said the man, Jack, firmly, ending the matter. The woman opened her mouth wide to protest but Jack cut her off with one word: "yet."

The woman smiled wickedly, catching on to his train of thought, "oh! What fun we are to have!"

"And I guess they abused her for years, then they stabbed her, judging by the knife," he said quickly.

"Please!" Luna begged. Her father had come to her small sanctuary. He carelessly grabbed her round her waist and threw her out. He reeked of alcohol and smoke.

Jack held a long knife tauntingly at the child. Luna stared it, fascinated and yet, she felt dread. She knew it in her bones, she was going to die. Her father showed her no mercy as he looked at her with cold uncaring eyes. She felt her heart beat quicker and her breath came out in quick and uneven intervals. She felt hysteric as the knife came closer. She let out a blood-curdling scream as the knife pierced her body, just as it had with her deceased mother.

"What I don't understand is," said the woman, eyebrows knit, "why didn't she leave?"

"It was too late."

Her skin, or what was left of it, was white and her lips a cold blue, her eyes were wide open, cold and empty, staring blankly in to space, never to feel nor to blink.

She was not lonely, though, she had company. A skeleton accompanied her. Now, the skeleton had once looked very much like her, when it was once one of the living and it loved the corpse dearly.

The skeleton's arm was around the little corpse, as if to protect her from whomever have done this to both of them.

And if you might, maybe squint, you'd know that the two were quite happy.

Both never to feel and never to be found, mother and daughter.


AN: Yes, I know the events were a bit rushed. Oh, and in case you were wondering, the italicized ones near the end were the real events