Without a Trace

Great mysteries employ the disappearing act: someone or something goes missing. Either have to be consequential enough to warrant fear, anxiety, or desperation.

In a child’s story, a favorite stuffed panda might have gone missing. Or a toy truck left out front overnight. Or the new bike, a gift on a birthday. Perhaps instead of an object, it might be the best friend who moves away with promises to stay in touch.

Adult versions should have more importance, such as secret files detailing hidden expenditures, the blueprints for a new supercomputer chip, or an outline for a recently deceased author’s last novel.

The most important element is that it disappears, and no one seems able to find it.

Clues are uncovered that might lead to its whereabouts but also might be herrings distracting searchers away from the hiding spot.

Your task is to write a story in which something of importance disappears and cannot be easily found.

Have fun with this one.

Missing

            When someone goes missing, we panic. We expected them to arrive at a certain time, but then they don’t. We pace the room, stare out the front window, call repeatedly.

As time passes, our level of anxiety rises. We try not to think the worse, that the individual was injured in some way, or got lost, or, in the worst-case scenario, was kidnapped.

When it’s an item that we lose, there’s a similar degree of anxiety, especially if we need it for an upcoming activity. We retrace our steps, pick up pieces of paper and clothing strewn about. We feel our blood pressure rising, heart beating rapidly, and our level of activity increase exponentially.

Your task is to write a story in which someone or something is missing. Make the person or item important enough that the protagonist is incredibly anxious.

Have fun with this one.