I found this sub a while back and decided this was a good place to tell my story. Maybe you all will believe me. No one else does.

This happened back in the summer of 1994. My little had brother begged me all week long to go check out an abandoned treehouse he found in the woods behind our house.

“It is SO cool. It’s got old toys and books and everything inside. And I made a new friend that also likes to play there!” he had said. I finally gave in on a Saturday morning and followed him down the path he and his friends had spent all summer making. It was pretty far back into the woods, and I scolded him for being back there. He knew he was not supposed to go past the tree our dad had marked with a bright red ribbon, but we had passed that tree almost a mile back.

When we finally got to the treehouse, I immediately felt unease in its presence. It looked like it was 100 years old, but that couldn’t be possible. My own friends and I used to sneak back past the red ribbon tree when we were younger and play back there. I had never seen this treehouse before. I stood and gazed at the treehouse for a few moments before working the nerve to approach it. My brother was already up inside by the time I went near it.

“My friend said he only likes to play with kids our age,” my brother said. He then kicked the ladder back and it clattered to the ground.

“James, what the hell?” I asked.

“Sorry Adam. Mikey only wants to play with me today.”

“James, who is Mikey?” I asked, feeling even more unsettled.

“My new friend! I found him playing in here earlier this week. He’s in the back right now! Let me see if he wants to meet you.”

James then turned to apparently go get his new friend, but I was not waiting for his permission. I bent down to pick up the ladder and stood up to find, to my absolute horror, that the treehouse was gone. It just vanished without a sound or a trace. I stood there for what felt like forever, but it was probably only a few seconds. I started having trouble breathing and realized I was having a full-fledged panic attack.

I ran. I didn’t know what else to do. I ran back down the path to our house and found my dad in his woodworking shed. I tried to tell him what happened but I was in a panic and out of breath, so he led me to the house where my mom gave me a glass of water and made me sit at the kitchen table to catch my breath.

After I calmed down, I explained to my parents what I had just witnessed. They were skeptical, but my dad finally agreed to come with me. I led him back to where the treehouse was, but all that was there was the ladder I had left on the ground. We searched for nail holes or scraps of wood, but found nothing. No trace that the treehouse had been there.

We went back to the house and my parents starting getting upset, asking me where James was. I kept telling them that he disappeared with the treehouse, but they didn’t believe me. They called the police and filed a missing persons report. A whole volunteer team came to sweep the forest to look for my brother. I lay curled up on my bedroom floor.

That was 28 years ago and we never saw James again. I go to the same spot on his birthday each year. I don’t know why. Maybe I think he or the house will just reappear one day. My parents never forgave me for losing him and to this day they don’t believe my story. They don’t know I come to the spot every year. Maybe one day he’ll turn up. Has anyone had experience with something like this? I miss him.