The Letter That Shouldn’t Exist: Ten Years After a Father and Daughter Vanish, a Chilling Message Arrives From Nowhere

It was supposed to be a peaceful weekend getaway.

On the morning of October 12, 2015, Daniel Myers, a 42-year-old environmental scientist, and his 10-year-old daughter, Lily, set out for a day hike in the Cascade Mountains of Washington.

They were experienced hikers, familiar with the trail network, and promised Daniel’s wife, Claire, that they’d be home by sunset.

But they never returned.

Search and rescue teams were deployed within hours after Claire reported them missing.

Helicopters, drones, and volunteer hikers scoured the dense forests and treacherous cliffs for weeks.

Their car was found neatly parked at the trailhead, Daniel’s phone left on the passenger seat, but there were no footprints, no signs of a struggle — nothing.

As winter set in, hope began to fade.

Investigators theorized that the pair may have fallen into one of the deep ravines or been swept away by the fast-moving rivers below.

Yet, without evidence, their disappearance became one of the Pacific Northwest’s most haunting mysteries.

Claire, refusing to give up, kept a candle burning in her window for years, saying, “If they’re out there, I want them to see their way home.”

Then, in the fall of 2025 — ten years after the disappearance — something unthinkable happened.

Claire received an envelope in the mail.

No return address.

Inside was a single handwritten letter, yellowed and fragile, addressed to her by name.

The writing was unmistakable — it was Daniel’s.

The letter began simply: “Claire, if you’re reading this, then somehow this made it to you.

I don’t have much time.

” He went on to describe how, during their hike, they had stumbled upon something “ancient and wrong” deep in the mountains — an old tunnel carved into stone, hidden behind a collapsed rock wall.

Daniel wrote that Lily had heard voices echoing from within, calling her name.

Against his instincts, they entered.

From there, the letter became increasingly erratic.

He spoke of “lights that moved without a source,” of “a cold that burns,” and of “people who weren’t really people” watching them in the dark.

The final line read: “I don’t know if we’ll ever leave this place, but I’ll keep her safe.

Always.”

Authorities verified the handwriting — it matched Daniel’s perfectly.

The paper and ink were also aged about ten years, consistent with the time of their disappearance.

However, there was no postmark, and forensic testing could not determine where or when the letter had been sent.

The discovery reignited national attention.

Media outlets dubbed it “The Myers Mystery,” and online communities exploded with theories.

Some believed Daniel had found a secret government testing site or a forgotten military bunker.

Others claimed the mountains held ancient Indigenous cave systems sealed for centuries.

A few even suggested supernatural explanations — time slips, parallel dimensions, or portals to another realm.

In November 2025, a new search team retraced Daniel’s last known route.

About eight miles off-trail, they discovered an unmarked cave partially obscured by overgrowth.

Inside were signs of human presence — an old backpack containing Lily’s favorite charm bracelet and a child’s drawing of a mountain under a red sky.

But there was no trace of Daniel or Lily.

Claire, now 47, visited the site personally.

Standing at the cave’s entrance, she whispered through tears, “If you’re still out there, come home.

” She’s since dedicated herself to supporting families of missing persons, establishing the Myers Foundation for Mountain Safety in their memory.

Despite years of investigation, the mystery remains unsolved.

How the letter surfaced — and who delivered it — is still unexplained.

But for many, it offered something deeper than answers: a sign that love, even in the face of darkness, can echo through time.

And as the Cascade winds howl through the trees, locals swear they sometimes hear faint laughter — a man and a little girl — drifting through the pines.

No one knows for sure what happened that October day.

But one thing is certain: some trails never truly end… they just lead somewhere we’re not meant to follow.