My Sister Stopped Eating After She Came Back From a Work Trip

Three months ago I got a phone call from my niece. She was worried about her mother, who is my sister. My niece is 23 and she lives far from home now because of her job.

She is very close to her mother and they used to speak on the phone at least 4–5 times every week. But she told me that her mother had changed a lot in the last six months. They started to speak less and less and now she doesn’t pick up the phone anymore.

My sister recently divorced and she lives alone. My niece asked her father to check on her, but when he went to the house she just hid inside, refusing to open the door and speak to him.

So she wanted me to check on her, because I am just a couple of hours away. I jumped in my car and drove there. I tried to call her a few times on the way, but the calls went directly to voicemail.

When I arrived at her home it was already evening, not dark yet but the sun was setting. I knocked on doors and windows but got no answer. I went to the side porch and tried the back door. It was open.

I entered, calling her name. Nothing. The house was dark and quiet. I didn’t see anything out of order. I entered every room and kept calling her name. Everything was in perfect order and clean. Her bed didn’t look like someone had slept there. Her phone was on the kitchen counter and was turned off. Her purse was next to it. All her documents, driver’s license, identity card, passport and credit cards were there. That’s when I started to feel something was wrong.

I opened the fridge. Except for two bottles of water, there was nothing. There was no food in the house, not even sugar. Just water and coffee. On the sink was a water glass and a coffee cup. Apparently she hadn’t eaten at home in a while. The car was also missing from the garage.

She also had a small office inside the house. There it was the same. Everything seemed fine. Inside one of the drawers I found a few recipes. The recipes from the last 7–8 months were only water and coffee. I also found her journals. I sat down at her desk and opened the latest journal. Some pages were drawings of people I didn’t know. I read through the pages looking for something that made sense.

My sister is a writer and journalist. The last entry for a job seemed to be almost one year ago. And it involved traveling all over the Middle East: Iran, Lebanon, Egypt, Arabia and Israel.

This entry was very confusing. It sounded more like a novel than something that happened.

Journal entry 7 June

“Today while walking alone on some old ruins I heard a voice calling me: ‘Samantha. Pick me up.’

I got scared. I looked around and saw nobody. There were some people, but way too far to even hear them speaking. I took a few more steps and the voice spoke again: ‘Down here Sam. Pick me up.’

I jumped, spooked. Only my brother still calls me Sam. I looked around on the ground. I saw nothing. Just loose stones on the old pavement. I stepped slowly around, watching the ground. The voice came from down there. Among these stones there was one darker and smoother, different from all the others that were yellow. I got closer to it and moved it with my foot. I pushed the stone around a bit and nothing, just a stone. But not really, because the voice spoke again: ‘Yes Sam. You found me. Pick me up and I will tell you a secret. A secret story.’

I thought I was dreaming. But I went down slowly and picked it up. It was as big as a child’s fist. It was gray and had some thin red lines along it. But after I took it into my hand all the spookiness disappeared. I put it into my bag and took it with me.”

After reading this entry I got pretty confused. It didn’t sound like something she would do, but more like one of her books.

I called my niece and told her what I found, but not about what I had read in the journal. She decided to take the first flight back home. I told her to wait a few days, I was already there and I would look for her. After that I called the police and filed a missing person report. They came to the house and checked all around. The police believed she had just gone somewhere and forgot all her stuff at home, and would probably be back soon. They flagged her car in a BOLO alert and left. They advised me to wait for her at home until the next day, and I agreed.

After they left I took the journal and tried to find out more about what was happening in her life.

Journal entry 13 June

“Two days ago I got back from the work trip. It was a good one. But I was worried about the voice I heard. So when I got back I went to a doctor for an MRI. The results came back normal, nothing wrong with my brain. Anyway I took that stone back home with me. I don’t know why.”

That is good, I said. I was relieved she had nothing wrong with her brain. I looked around. This house was so quiet that I could hear my heart.

Journal entry 15 June

“I am scared. This morning I was at my desk sending my final draft to my boss. I heard the voice again calling me: ‘Sam!’

My spine froze. I started to shake. The voice kept calling my name. I got up and followed it. I didn’t even know where I had put that stone last time. But the stone knew: ‘I’m on the window where you left me to watch over your garden.’

I grabbed a knife from the kitchen counter and stepped slowly toward my bedroom. I was thinking, it cannot be that stone speaking, there must be someone else in the house. But nobody was there, just that stone. It was glowing in a strange way, like in a dream. Then it spoke again: ‘Pick me up. I have a lot of stories to tell you.’

I took a deep breath and grabbed the stone. It was warm, felt smooth and didn’t feel as heavy as it should. I walked back to the living room and sat down with the stone in my hand. Then the stone told me her name is Athaya, and: ‘I have seen many cities buried under the sand. I have worn many names. I have seen every sunrise on earth.’ It was so strange to hear a stone speaking, but her voice was so calm and innocent.”

I must have fallen asleep, because I woke up with the journal in my hand, sitting on the couch. My phone was buzzing on the table. It was my niece. She was desperate to hear something good. I calmed her down and told her that I would find her mother.

I drove to the police station and spoke with a detective. They were actively looking for her and her car. After that I drove to the park where she used to jog. I walked all the paths and checked all the bushes, but I found nothing. After that I got something for breakfast and drove back to my sister’s home.

The more time passed, the more unsettled I became. The home had heavy shades on the windows and that was not normal for her.

I got out and spoke with a few of the neighbors. They hadn’t seen her much in the last few months, nor had they seen the lights on at night. One of the neighbors agreed to check his camera, hoping to find something useful. And we did. She was there. But she was different. She was wearing a white summer dress, her hair was black and long, and she looked a bit thinner. She never wore a dress and she had been doing her own hair since high school. Sometimes it was red, other times blonde. When I saw her, I remembered how she used to look when we were kids. I couldn’t keep it together anymore, tears flooded my face and I collapsed to the floor. The neighbor tapped my shoulder.

“It will be ok, we will find her.”

I got back up and wiped my face.

At 04:25 the car came out of the garage.

The garage door closed behind it, but the car didn’t leave for almost ten minutes.

Then she got out of the driver’s seat and turned around, looking at the house for a few minutes.

She got back in the car and a few minutes later the garage door opened again. She got out and ran inside the house. She had something in her hand, something white. But she didn’t have it when she came back out. She got back in the car and drove away.

I must have missed something in the garage. That white thing in her hand had to be there. I thanked the neighbor and ran back to the house, straight into the garage. I was looking around frantically and could not find it. But it was there. On top of some boxes, a white piece of paper. I picked it up and unfolded it with my hands shaking, full of adrenaline.

“I know this doesn’t make sense.

Leaving a letter for someone who was never really there.

But if you’re reading this, you’re probably missing me.

Please don’t.”

I read it again.

“Someone who was never really there.”

I told myself she didn’t mean it like that. She couldn’t have.

But the longer I stood there, the less certain I felt.

And yet, she had taken the time to leave this behind for someone she believed didn’t exist.

I got angry. Part of me started feeling like I was in a bad dream that went on longer than it should. I went and grabbed the journal. Here must be the answer—what had that stone told her?

Journal entry 27 June

“Not much happening anymore. I take care of my flowers. Spoke with Sara. But the stone is quiet. Somehow I miss her stories.”

Journal entry 29 June

“Athaya spoke again today. She is back. I was making my coffee and I heard her: ‘Hi Sam. Are you there?’

I felt somehow happy to hear a voice other than mine.

‘Yes. I’m here.’ I ran and picked it up from the coffee table.

‘How are you, Sam? I have missed you.’

This took me by surprise.

‘I have missed you too. I love your stories.’

‘That is very nice to hear, Sam.’

‘Did I do something wrong, Athaya? Why didn’t you speak with me for so long?’

‘I did, Sam. But you could not hear me.’

‘What? That is not possible, Athaya. I am alone here every day with nothing to disturb me. I took you with me everywhere. But you were silent.’

‘I know you did. But this is not the reason you don’t hear me talk.’

‘But then why?’ I asked her.

‘Because of this world, Sam.’

I did not understand what she was saying. That felt strange.

‘What do you mean? This world.’

‘Well… there are more worlds here. But they are not for everyone to see.’

‘And for whom are they?’

‘Just for a few. It was just a small chance for you to hear me calling you that day.’

‘How so? Why didn’t I hear you yesterday? Or the day before?’

‘You did not hear me because you were full of this world. This world’s food is poison for the other worlds.’

‘Poison?’

‘Yes. The more food you feed yourself here, the farther you slip from the other. You can hear me now just because the last time you ate was yesterday morning.’

I stopped for a few moments, trying to remember. She was right. My last meal was over 24 hours ago.

‘If I eat less, I will hear you more?’

‘Exactly.’

‘But if I don’t eat, I will die of hunger. No?’

‘Just in case you don’t feed yourself in the other world.’”

This was so disturbing. My sister must have been crazy. She spoke with a stone and starved herself. That was the reason she looked so thin in that video.

I read her journal until I fell asleep, and when I woke up I started again. She got trapped in a crazy story and she didn’t ask for help. She must have lost her mind.

Two days passed. The police didn’t have anything new, and my niece’s morale was low. I woke up and went to take a shower. When I stepped out of the shower I heard a voice calling me. It must be in my head, I thought. But a few moments later I heard it again:

“Dean.”

I could hear it clearly. Someone was calling my name. I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around me and exited the bathroom.

“Yes. I’m here. I’m Dean. Where are you?”

“I know who you are. Just come here.”

The voice came from my left side. My sister’s bedroom. I walked down the hallway fast and opened the door. There was nobody.

“Where are you? Show yourself,” I screamed.

“I’m right here, Dean. On the window. And I have a lot of stories to tell you.”