Phantom

The crowd at Crestwood High’s football stadium roared as the home team scored the final goal. The match had been intense, but nothing could prepare the players for what they would soon discover.

In the locker room, Logan Matthews, the team captain, pulled off his cleats and sighed in exhaustion. His teammates laughed and cheered, celebrating their victory. But as Logan reached into his locker to grab his spare pair of cleats, he froze.

The cleats were not his.

They looked like his—same brand, same size—but the scuff marks, the faded initials on the tongue, they weren’t his own. He picked them up, turning them over in his hands. The soles were completely worn down, as if they had been used for decades.

“Hey, anyone mess with my stuff?” he called out.

His teammates barely paid attention, too busy celebrating. Shrugging, Logan decided to put them back. But as he did, he noticed something strange.

Inside the shoe, written in faded ink, was a name.

Daniel Carter.

Logan’s blood ran cold. Daniel Carter had been a legend at Crestwood High—a star player from 1983. But he had disappeared mysteriously the night of his championship game. His body was never found.

Logan stared at the cleats, his mind racing. Could they really belong to Daniel? Was this some kind of sick joke?

Curiosity got the better of him. That night, long after the stadium had emptied, Logan returned to the field. Under the dim glow of the stadium lights, he put on the cleats.

The moment they touched the grass, his vision blurred.

Suddenly, he wasn’t standing on an empty field anymore. The stadium was packed. The scoreboard read October 15, 1983.

He was inside Daniel Carter’s final game.

Logan tried to move, but his body wasn’t his own. He was running, chasing the ball, hearing the echoes of a crowd that no longer existed. He felt the sweat, the pressure, the thrill of the game. And then—a blinding light.

Everything went dark.

When he woke up, he was back in the present. The field was empty again. His heart pounded. He yanked off the cleats and threw them to the ground.

A whisper cut through the silence.

"Find me."

The next morning, Logan couldn’t shake the feeling that Daniel was trying to tell him something. He did what no one had done in years—he investigated.

Digging through old newspaper archives, he discovered something shocking. Daniel had vanished after the game, but one witness had claimed to see him arguing with someone near the equipment shed. That shed still stood at the far end of the field.

Logan sprinted there, his breath heavy. The old door creaked as he pushed it open. Dust filled the air. And then—he saw it.

A pair of cleats, identical to the ones in his locker. And beneath them, buried under decades of dirt and debris, something else.

A skeleton.

The truth hit him like a tidal wave. Daniel Carter had never run away. He had been murdered. And his cleats—his phantom cleats—had carried his story across time, waiting for someone to uncover the truth.

The next day, the authorities confirmed it. Daniel’s remains were identified, and the mystery of his disappearance was finally solved.

But Logan knew the real reason he had been chosen. Somewhere beyond the final whistle, Daniel had been waiting for justice.

And now, thanks to a pair of cleats, he could finally rest.