My best friend told me something was watching him. A week later, he disappeared. He’s been missing for 42 years.

I was twelve, and it was the early 1980s. My family lived in the countryside, surrounded by farmland. That summer, I remember waking up early to help my dad with the morning chores, and by afternoon I was free to do whatever I wanted. My best friend Tim lived about a forty-minute bike ride away, pretty close, considering how far neighbours were from each other. He would also work in the mornings with his dad and brothers on his family farm. When we were both done for the day, we’d call each other on the landline, then set out and meet on the long stretch of main road between our houses. The road was straight, flat, and nothing but corn stalks on either side. We had walkie-talkies that picked up signal once we hit that road. So, as soon as we turned onto it, we’d radio ahead to plan the day, or just talk.

This is how we spent the majority of that summer. Once we were together, we’d disappear into forests, creeks, tunnels, small caves, the lakes, wherever we could get on a bike. It started as a great summer, shared with a friend who had the same interests and would explore anywhere with me.

However, around midsummer, Tim started to behave differently. I remember him being less cheerful, as he wouldn’t talk much, just listen. He also stopped making jokes and laughing at my jokes, almost like his mind was preoccupied. At the time, I was just a kid and didn’t know how to ask him if he was alright. I simply brushed it off and continued to treat him normally. However, after a little while, he finally started to talk to me about what was bothering him.

He told me there was something watching him.

He said he would hear things in his room at night and see things. One night, he kept hearing something outside, so he looked out his window and saw a silhouette of someone staring at him from the cornfield. Being a scared kid, he just ran back to bed, under his covers. He would also say that he would hear voices, like someone whispering inaudible words in his ear as if someone was right beside him, but no one was there.

When he told me this, I was definitely spooked out and worried for my friend. I asked if he told his parents, and I could see tears emerging from his eyes. When he told his father about the voices, his dad lost it on him. Tim thought he was going to get a beating of a lifetime. His dad went on about how Tim would get locked up in a nuthouse and how everyone would think he was crazy. He scolded him to be more normal like his siblings and demanded that Tim lose his imagination and never speak of this again, to anybody.

Looking back at it now, I can imagine how trapped and alone Tim must have felt. He told me the voices and stalkings were getting worse, and he was scared to say anything, even to me. I was scared for Tim. I told him I’d be there for him, no matter what. That night, we asked our parents if we could have a sleep over and I stayed over at his place to witness these strange occurrences.

We grabbed snacks and comics and stayed up late — waiting. It got very late, and I was struggling to stay awake. I didn’t hear or see anything. Eventually, I fell asleep. When I woke up in the morning, Tim was sitting up in bed, like he’d been awake the whole night. He told me that the things had been in the room. He couldn’t scream or talk to wake me up. He was petrified for hours.

At that point, I was scared — not of the things he kept talking about, but for Tim himself. We stayed up way past midnight, and I didn’t hear or see a thing. That’s when I thought my friend was actually going crazy.

I started feeling uneasy around Tim, so I began to avoid him. I think he felt it too and he started avoiding me as well. A little over a week had passed since the sleepover, and we had not phoned or hung out. Then one night, Tim called me unexpectedly, and I answered the phone with a knot in my stomach. The knot loosened as Tim, frantic on the other end, begged to come over that night. I told him my parents wouldn’t go for it. It was too late; they’d never let me out. But Tim was pleading. He told me they were coming tonight to take him away. The fear in his voice, the sobbing, it made me realize how alone he was in this.

I told him to hold on. I went to beg my parents to allow him over. I can’t remember what story I made up, but they gave us permission and allowed me to go get him. I ran back to the phone, and told him that I would be meeting him at our spot soon. We hung up and I biked off. When I turned on the main road, I switched on my walkie-talkie to speak to him. There was no reply. I waited a bit longer, and kept trying to reach Tim. Suddenly, Tim finally replied, but a static interference took over. I couldn’t hear what Tim was saying, but he sounded distressed. I tried to talk back, but the static was too prominent.

I sped up to get to our meeting spot as soon as I could. I remember it being one of the eeriest moments of my life. I was biking at night, my friend panicking through a static-filled walkie-talkie, and corn crops crowding both sides of the road.

I finally made it to the meeting spot and Tim was nowhere to be found. I usually could see him coming from a distance, but the darkness made that difficult. I waited, figuring he’d be there any minute; I might have pedaled too fast and that I just needed to be patient. I didn’t know how much time had passed, but I knew that Tim should have been there by now. I needed to see Tim and decided to continue biking in his direction. As I was riding, I would continuously talk in the walkie-talkie with the static getting louder and louder. I couldn’t see Tim anywhere. Then the static dissipated from the walkie-talkie and it returned to normal.

I stopped pedaling, and spoke into the walkie-talkie, calling for my friend. All I heard was an echo of what I said a couple of yards ahead of me, from Tim’s walkie-talkie. I jumped off my bike and ran to the noise. Tim’s bike, walkie-talkie, and backpack lay abandoned on the roadside. There was no Tim.

I shouted for him and all I could see was the road and corn fields. The only reply I got was the rustling of the corn. Looking back and forth, I had a feeling Tim ran into the fields. So I cut into the rows where I figured he’d jumped off. But at that moment, a dark sensation came over me—it was pure fear. I felt petrified and heard my heart pounding loudly into my ears. I didn’t know why I felt that way, and still don’t, but I panicked and ran back to my bike and went home as fast as I could.

When I arrived, I ran into my house and told my parents. My mom immediately got on the phone with his folks, and called the police once they confirmed Tim wasn’t at home. My dad and I took the car and drove to Tim’s abandoned bike. When we got there, all the stuff was still there, but no Tim. Tim’s dad and brothers showed up shortly afterward. And then the police. After a quick search, we found no trace of Tim. The next morning, the town organized an extensive search, but there was no sign of him. After weeks of searching, we couldn’t find him. He disappeared. It eventually became a cold case.

As I got older, I kept thinking of my friend Tim and the fear he felt of someone or something after him. I eventually moved away from my hometown, but I occasionally search for any news or updates about Tim’s missing case. But there hasn’t been an update since the night he disappeared.

It still keeps me up at night sometimes: what was Tim seeing and hearing? Who was after him? Where did he go? The worst is wondering what I could have done better to help and protect my friend.