[Eerie music]

Jordan: Our lives are filled with a tapestry of people. Some are closely knitted into the fabric while others are threads that dangle on the fringes. They're classmates passing in the hallway or fellow passengers on the bus you take every morning. We may greet them with a smile of recognition but we don't know them. We don't reach out to ask them how they're doing. We don't consider that such an encounter could be the last time we see someone, or that it could be the last time anyone sees them at all.

[Wind chimes]

Jordan: Araminta Green lived her life on the fringes. She was last seen almost two years ago by a passing classmate, walking into the graveyard early on a Thursday morning.

[Ghost howl]

Jordan: Araminta was a mystery even before her disappearance. She rarely spoke to classmates and her goth exterior—with dark lipstick and pale cheeks—exuded an aura of unapproachableness. She often brought a set of tarot cards with her to school, flipping through and putting them into intricate formations during breaks, and her only friend was an old lady living far out in the woods. It's no wonder her peers speculated that she was a witch.

[Witchy laughter]

Jordan: No clues about Araminta's whereabouts have surfaced since her disappearance. The police dropped the case quickly, dismissing her as a runaway. Her parents, who spent more time at the golf club than with their daughter and were mystified by her peculiar interests, appeared to believe the same.

I can't help but wonder if people would have cared more about finding Araminta if she had been a peppy blonde volleyball captain instead of a moody goth chick. Because no one seems to care anymore about what happened to Araminta. No one but me.

My name is Jordan Thompson, and I am that classmate who last saw Araminta. I was driving to school when I spotted her, dressed in a purple hoop skirt and a wide-brimmed hat, walking into the town cemetery.

[Ghost howl]

Jordan: Araminta lived next to me but we never talked. She may have frightened me a bit. I saw her sometimes in her backyard, feeding a little black cat. The evening of her disappearance, I heard loud yowling outside the patio door of her house. I grabbed a tuna can and lured the poor feline over to my place. Kiki has lived here ever since because Araminta never came back.

During this podcast series, I attempt to follow the trail of Araminta, asking questions no one has asked: Why was she in the graveyard that morning? Why has her parents not missed their cat? And was she actually a witch?

In the end, I hope to find the answer to the question that has plagued me for the last two years: Where is Araminta Green?

[Eerie music]

Jordan: Subscribe to follow along as new episodes drop.

[Crow caws]