MASSIVE HUNT FAILS TO FIND TRACE OF CHILDREN The three Somerton children who disappeared in Emerald Vale Wednesday were still missing late last night despite a massive search. Police have established that probably the last time the children were seen and recognized by a member of the public was when a courier, known to them and their family, met them on Hillcrest Rd just outside of Emerald Vale, on Wednesday afternoon. He saw them â€œholding hands and laughing.â€ Their father, Mr. Beaumont, 40, said yesterday: â€œSomebody must be holding them against their will. They would otherwise have come home by now.â€ The clipping was at least three years old. The young girl placed it back in the single drawer of the cherry wood end table sheâ€™d woken up next to. She was fully dressed as if sheâ€™d just passed out on the bed to take a nap. The room was that of a childâ€™s, the bed doned in pastel pink, with a frilly bed skirt, the mountain of pillows ranging from cute characters to lace and more frills; one entire wall was lined with shelves where dolls and stuffed animals sat; along another was a large window, curtained by sheer pink drapes; along with the end table there was also a writing desk and chair, a dresser, and an armoire all of them done in the same cherry wood. She rose and moved over to the armoire just to the side of it was a tall full length mirror, it was several feet taller than her but this ensured it showed her entire form. The person in the mirror was both familiar and alien to her, she tilted her head from side to side, examining her violet eyes as they seemed to glow in the dim candle light, her short curly blonde hair bounced easily from side to side with the slightest of movements, on the top of her head was a large pink bow holding back the more rebellious of her curls. Her dress cut off just below her knees, poofing out in a wide bell around her legs with layers of petticoats to keep itâ€™s shape. The dress was mostly white, layered in more pink to match her bow, decorated with frills, lace, and pearls. With her white stockings and pristine white boots she looked like one of the porcelain dolls that belong on the self on the other wall. A rumble of thunder alarmed her to the weather outside and she was quickly drawn from her reflection bouncing over to the window. She reached for the ledge but her fingers touched a smooth, flat surface. Confused she took her attention from outside to the rim of the window, it was completely flat, she couldnâ€™t even make out any seams for where the window would have been placed into the wall, it was almost as if it was painted on and yet she could see the rain pelting the glass, the trees several stories below billowing with the wind the storm brought. The window was obviously there, she just couldnâ€™t see how it was done. Another rumble and a flash of lightning made her stare out longingly at the scene below, she knew this place, though she couldnâ€™t remember her own name, or parents, or how she got here. This was Crystalmoore Estate, out the window she could see several other structures done in dark gray with white molding, the trimming was extravagant with swooping arches and twisted filigree, as was the norm for a Victorian mansion. Beyond the Estate was nothing but forests for as far as she could see, that, she glanced back at the end table, that was Emerald Vale. As she headed towards the door she reached up to her neck where a small chain hung, she worried the pendant between her thumb and forefinger. Just as she reached the door she realized her habitual habit and looked at the pendant in her fingers, it was in the shape of an â€˜A,â€™ for her nameâ€¦ Abbyâ€¦ Abigale. After a moment of remembrance at her own name she returned to her destination, reaching for the handle and pulling the door open only to be met with a pitch black hallway. A wave of discomfort made her rethink her plan, closing the door and pressing her back to it only for her eyes to fall on the candle still glowing in the dim room, it barely looked like itâ€™d been lit an hour ago. She moved over to the writing desk and picked up the tray it sat on and resuming her original plan. Even with her candle she hesitated at the opened door, biting her lip, it was still quite dark. With a trembling sigh she pushed herself out the door, from the hall the room suddenly seemed to be the creepier of the two options as it was now lit only by the flickering light from outside, another rumble of thunder startled her and she slammed the door by accident. The hall was barely illuminated a few feet beyond her candle as if the darkness was more than just a lack of light but a solid shadow that fought with her flickering flame. She huddled her candle close to her chest and started walking, her boots making the slightest clack on the wooden floor. Each piece of decoration was another torment in the dark, the pictures of elegant ladies and gentlemen looked like monsters until the candle illuminated them, the soft flapping of tapestries against the walls sounded like the padding footsteps of a stranger coming upon her. The light was playing with her eyes, the drafty halls tormenting her mind. She chewed on her lip, debating each step, but she kept on, there was someone else here she wanted to find, she just couldnâ€™t remember who for some reason.