I’ve always had a fascination with unexplained mysteries. People who just drop off the face of the earth and towns where the population seemingly dried up and left it behind intrigue me more than just about any other type of mystery. I have a novella that I’m looking to publish, The Mystery of Kent, Maine, that deals exclusively with this idea, but before that story was written, this one was.
I started writing it in February 2021 and finished it around June. I tried submitting it to several magazines with no replies, so I figured now was as good a time as any to post it to my website. I ended up reading it to my 6th Grade class that I teach back on Halloween, and they enjoyed it immensely. Hopefully, you shall too.
As for the ending, well, that’s up for you to decide. One thing I love about horror stories is those that have no real end to them but what the reader thinks of. I have my answer, of course.
I’m just more curious about yours.
Where the hell am I?
I blink as the town before me comes into view through the fog like a bad omen. From the tree line driving in, I can tell that it is average size but nothing spectacular; the apartment complexes in the center are among the biggest buildings there and they don’t look bigger than three stories or so. On the west side, I can see little settlements of suburban homes, roads leading through them, circling into cul de sacs like a 1950s suburbia. On the east side seems to be the residential area where the business happened: banks, restaurants, shops of all kinds. The tallest building is a cathedral of some kind in the middle with a big clock in the side, with the arrow hands showing the time of 12:15.
I look at my car clock. It reads 4:28. For some reason, this fills me with unease.
I check my phone’s GPS. There’s no town listed here, and I don’t remember anyone saying there was anything between here and the state border back at that diner I had lunch at. I wasn’t expecting to hit any civilization for at least another hour or so, yet here’s an entire town that nobody bothered to mention when I asked for directions. That’s certainly curious.
I’m already running late. My sister is getting married tomorrow at 9 in the morning. My parents went on ahead, but I had work I needed to get done for the radio station before I could head out. By the time my replacement was firmly informed, and the station had approved the time, it was too late for any plane tickets that would get me there in time.
So, I got in the car and drove. The wedding is happening the next state over, a far hike for someone scrambling at short notice. I had made good time in the beginning, but two wrong turns and an hour-long detour for construction now puts me firmly behind. I believe I can make it, but it’s running down to the wire.
And now, here is this new curiosity in the nearing distance, and the exit drawing closer.
I only have a split second to debate if I should pass through without stopping or turn around and head back the way I came when my gas light comes on and makes the decision for me. I can chance it, but this car is old and has seen its fair share of repairs in recent months, and I don’t want to risk it dropping dead on the highway. The idea of being stranded miles from home fills me with anxiety more than the idea of stopping in an off-the-grid hole in the wall, so I turn on my directional for the benefit of no one and take the ramp off to town.
The town limits are upon me before I know it, but I never see a sign saying exactly where I am. I feel a chill in my spine, but nothing more than that. If there’s a voice in my head telling me that something’s wrong, I don’t hear it. I’m more concerned with getting gas and getting to my destination before the sun sets. I’m already running late as it is.
The roads here are straightforward. There’s a light about every fifty feet or so, but lucky for me I don’t hit any of the reds. I’m drumming my fingers, agitatedly glancing at the gas needle every so often, hoping to God it doesn’t dip past empty. The rest of the time I’m reading the names of the stores – Ted’s Bookstore, the Moonlit Cafe, a United bank, The Velvet Swan clothing store, a furniture outlet- and wondering if I’m going to make it to my destination on time now. I’d hate to miss my sister’s wedding on account of a couple of wrong turns.
I finally see a Shell station up ahead, and I floor it through the final light right before it turns red to make it up there. I hit the curb and the car sputters and almost stalls. For a moment, I fear my luck has run out. Then she lurches forward, resting right next to the pumps, and I sigh a breath of relief. Crisis averted. Get a full tank in there, and she’ll be good to go.
I step out and pull out my credit card for the pumps. I’m about to insert the card in the slot to pay when I look at the prices and freeze. I pulled into this Shell expecting nothing other than to endure the high gas prices that have plagued this country all spring (“Gotta love that inflation,” my father grunted last week, with no love at all. “Fuckin’ Biden. Hope the libs are happy with their choice.”) and maybe stop in the convenience store to grab a quick snack for the road.
Instead, I’m greeted with:
REG: 1.64. UNLEADED: 1.68. PREMIUM: 1.72.
I think, Dear Lord, when’s the last time gas was this cheap?
I try to remember, but if there was ever a time where you could get gas for under $2 a gallon, it was a time before yours truly was licensed to drive on the road. Aside from a brief period of time when coronavirus was sweeping across the world killing millions and no one was going anywhere, buying gas in this country has always been a sore point. Everyone hates it, but we put up with it anyway because, hey, what’s the alternative? Not everyone can spring the money for a Prius.
My curiosity is genuinely piqued. I turn to walk towards the convenience store to inquire about the prices and grab a Fastbreak. I make it two steps before I stop dead.
There are no lights on in the store and absolutely no movement inside.
I look at my watch. 4:47. Now, who in the hell ever heard of a Shell station that closed at quarter to five in the evening? Come to think of it, who had ever heard of a Shell station closing at all? Those suckers are all supposed to be 24 hours.
First the low prices, and now this. I’m about to go knocking and see what in the hell is going on and…
And that’s when it finally hits me how quiet it is.
The silence is the first thing that gets me, because it’s total and complete. It’s the kind of silence that makes you feel like you’ve been stuck in one of those fishbowls, just you in your own isolated world. It’s the kind of silence I imagine one would experience on the surface of the moon, and the realization of just how absolute it is makes me shiver. I’ve witnessed this kind of silence only in the heart of the woods, away from the hustle and bustle of society, but never have I experienced it in the middle of a large town.
Then I realize that I haven’t seen a single moving car since I got off the exit. Aside from a few parked cars on the sidewalk that look as though they haven’t moved in ages, there’s no one else on the road. It is almost five o’clock in the afternoon, on a Friday in the summer, everyone and their mother is getting out of work now, and yet there is not a single damn person on the street in this town.
It’s spooky, and as I look across the windows of the nearby buildings another wave of unreality washes over me because there is not a single light on in any of these buildings either. They’re all dark, no shades drawn but staring into them is like staring into the eyes of the dead. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul but looking at these buildings I can tell there hasn’t been a soul in any of them in a while.
I rub my arms up and down. It’s summer, I shouldn’t be feeling this cold, but now I can’t stop shivering. I’m not in danger-at least, I don’t think that I am- but I suddenly find that I’ve never been more scared in my life.
Scared…and yet, still curious. Because how in the hell does a town of this size not have anyone living in it? How does something like this just…disappear, not even raise a blip on the GPS? Most ghost towns in the northeast get folded into existing counties, and whatever’s left usually amounts to no more than a building here or there. Vegetation hasn’t taken over the place. There’s no rubble that I can see. From the way I came in, everything looked normal.
All the same, everyone’s gone.
I walk back to my car and put the card into the slot. Miraculously, the pumps still work; guess they didn’t shut down everything. I fill up the tank and then I pause as I hang the nozzle back up. I look back at the buildings with their empty windows and the cars that look less like functioning automobiles and more like lawn ornaments…and I know I should leave. I should. There’s nothing here, and I’m already behind schedule as it is, and why should I care about some hole-in-the-wall town when my family is waiting for me to show up?
I open the car door.
I close it again.
And then I start walking.
I can’t help it. I need to know. Human curiosity is limitless, and will always propel them to where they probably should not go, and I am no exception. They say curiosity killed the cat and that’s likely true, but I’ve always held to the latter half of that saying: that satisfaction brought it back.
—————————
I begin my trek just walking down Main Street past the Shell station. I leave my car where it is; no sense putting both of us through this excursion, with the roads as clear as they are. I’ve got my iPhone which has been hooked up to the car charger and thus has the full battery needed to send SOS if it comes to that, my wallet which has no cash and would serve only as a throwing item if needed, and my keys which I stuff into my pocket to muffle the sound of the metal clanking together and spooking myself worse than I am. I’ll have to scrounge for anything else I need.
About a block down, the road intersects, and I turn right onto Front Street to head further into the heart of town. The sun’s not due to set for another three hours, but it’s been overcast all day and that fog is still prevalent, so it feels darker than it is as I head in the direction of those apartment complexes I saw earlier. It feels like nighttime in the middle of the afternoon here, but none of the streetlights turn on, and so I’m walking down dimly lit streets at what feels like twilight. It does nothing to calm my nerves. It’s extremely easy in the dark to imagine someone hiding behind every shadow, but I get no signs of life anywhere as I walk.
I walk slowly, arms wrapped around myself. I’m wearing a rain jacket, but it feels woefully inefficient to the oppressive aura this town gives off. The buildings all have a mute feeling to them, the paint is all faded, the signs are rusted, the words on them are barely visible. There’s random trash in the street; at some point, a storm or something must have knocked a trash can over and sent its contents everywhere. Some windows have potted plants, but the leaves have turned black, and the stems have fallen over, having long gone without nourishment.
Every now and again I check one of the abandoned cars. There are random items strewn about the seat, but as far as I can tell there’s nothing physically wrong with them. None of the tires are flat. I’ll bet if I looked under the hood, I’d see nothing wrong with the engine. I could start them up now if I had the means. For whatever reason, their owners just…left them here.
I make my way to a park just outside the apartment complex. It’s overgrown, the grass hasn’t been touched in years, the bushes are ratty. None of the playground equipment has been kept up. A swing sways idly in the breeze, and the chains squeak in a desperate cry for oil.
A girl’s doll sits alone in the sandbox, wet and ratty from the elements, long abandoned by whatever young owner had held it. I keep my attention on it for longer than I need to. The doll reminds me of my sister when we were little; this was exactly her kind of toy. She would have dropped dead of a stroke before she left her doll out in the rain. For a girl’s toy to be abandoned like this…
Something happened here. Something hit this place hard enough to force all life to flee without a second glance. There’s no damage to any of the buildings that I can see, which rules out fire or flood. The streets look no worse for wear, so earthquakes get taken off the list as well. I can’t smell or taste anything out of the ordinary in the air unless time and weather have removed any evidence of a chemical accident (that’s what I tell myself, while also praying that I’m not inhaling anything that will kill my stupid overly curious ass). It is entirely possible coronavirus wiped out the whole town, but the state of things feels older than just a year, although I admit that’s a stretch.
If they all left, why not take their cars with them? And if they didn’t leave…then where are their bodies?
Another shiver wracks me as my gaze turns up towards the apartment complex, with its three long rows of windows with the blinds all open. Suddenly they don’t seem so empty. Suddenly I’m imagining dozens of eyes peering out from behind the glass: dead, glazed over eyes, milky white cataracts behind pale, rotting faces. Hands like claws with nails that have grown out and look yellow and brittle, pawing at the window, wanting to break through and go after the fresh prey, the first fresh body they had seen in so long…
I tear away from the windows and press onward. I’m not going into that building. Even a fool like me knows that not every question leads to a good answer.
I reach the heart of town, and it doesn’t look any better here. From a quick glance around, there’s a bar, a bakery, and the town hall all here. The cathedral I saw on the way is located here as well, and the clock hasn’t changed the time at all. I look at those hands, stuck permanently at 12:15, and wonder if that was the moment when everything went wrong, or if that’s just the time the hands were on when lack of maintenance finally took its toll.
It feels like it’s getting darker out here the more I walk, and I know that’s not true because it’s still only five in the afternoon. I look up to find that the clouds have gotten darker, and I realize with dismay that it’s about to rain again, and I’ve left my umbrella back in the car. Gonna have to cut this shorter than I already was planning to. Even with my curiosity, I recognize that I’m still on the clock.
There’s a part of me that wants to explore this entire town top to bottom, try to understand completely what happened, what caused this mass exodus, and see if someone, anyone, is still alive out here. Part of me wants to, but the rational part of me recognizes that getting to the bottom of this is going to take more time than I currently have, more resources, and probably more manpower. Exploring this entire place by myself sounds all well and good, but if God forbid something happens to me- I fall and break my leg, I run into a pack of rabid animals, some squatter shanks me for trespassing on his turf- no one else has a clue I’m out here and then I’m up a creek without a paddle.
So, I’ll keep my greed and curiosity at bay for now, and I’ll come back when I’m better prepared.
Okay, you’ve decided. Now let’s get back to the car and get going already. Dad and Suzie are gonna kill you if you miss this thing.
And I will.
…In a moment.
The cathedral looms over me like a beacon, and it’s been keeping my attention from the moment the town first came into view. In my bones, I feel that, if I’m going to find any answers at all, this place holds them for me.
Tentatively, I walk up the giant marble steps to the large oak doors. The brick exterior looks no better or worse than anything else in this town, yet there’s something about it that feels out of place, just a little less neglected than all the others. As I walk up, I steal a glance at the billboard to the right of me.
It says, “Memorial service on 9/29! Refreshments in the meeting hall after the mass!”
September 29th…that gives me a month and a day, but no year. And even that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. They could have just forgotten to update the board for a few weeks before…whatever happened, happened.
I reach the doors and grasp the large iron handle, clicking the latch and pushing it gently open. The front hall feels cold and lifeless. There are pamphlets and reading material in their usual places, but the stairs are blocked off with rope, and the office door is shut tight and unlit. There was a time, I am sure, where this building brought comfort and joy to all who walked through its doors, but now…now it’s the same as all the others. Another empty building in an empty town.
Before I go into the congregation, I dip my fingers in the holy water and cross myself. Old habits die hard.
I don’t know what I expected to find in the church: broken windows, turned over pews, or possibly even the bodies of the townsfolk. But the inside of the church is just as silent and peaceful as it’s always been, just lacking the light and the warmth that I always associated with Sunday mass as a child. As I walk up to the podium, I glance inside each pew, and I see the hymnal books sitting in their respective places, some pamphlets along the pews, but no corpses of the dead. Along the wall are the Stations of the Cross, the depictions of Christ’s final walk towards his death and burial, depicted in gorgeous artwork that does not shy away from the blood and pain he experienced that day. Over the podium, suspended by long thin cables, is a large cross with Christ on it, but this is a Christ without the rags and the nails, but a Christ dressed in robes with arms outstretched, not forcibly by nails, but willingly with love and acceptance.
I smile, reminded of all the Sunday masses we attended in my youth. Religion is another one of those sore topics that society deals with. On the one side, you have people like my father, people who think the Bible is the only truth worth accepting, which in turn warps their perceptions and drives empathy from their hearts. On the other side, there are the atheists who scoff at anyone who chooses to believe in anything not proven by science and reason. And then there are those in the middle; people who allow that the Big Bang brought the universe into existence, but still find comfort in the teachings of the Lord, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.
I’d say my sister and I fall into that middle category.
But there is solace to be found in religion, and I find it here now, despite my circumstances. I close my eyes and breathe in air that is stale and lifeless and yet I feel more at ease. It’s the most at ease I have felt since I arrived here.
I open my eyes again…and that’s when I notice something. Something that shatters the illusion completely.
On the wall above the chair where the priest sits, scrawled in what I’m hoping is red paint, are these words:
WHERE DID
THE SUN
GO
A fresh wave of horror washes over me so strong that I almost fall over where I stand. I take a step forward, and then must grab onto the pew to keep from fainting. Those five words mean absolutely nothing on their own…and yet…
The fog and rain have persisted all day, but the summer so far has been blazing hot, with clear blue skies and temperatures reaching into the nineties. Before I left the weather report said to expect harsh weather for today, but by tomorrow the sun should be back out and it should hit a nice humid ninety-three. I remember thinking that at least my sister’s wedding day would be seeing the nice sunny day that she deserved. So, this rain doesn’t bother me much, because I know the sun is right on the horizon.
For me, it’s only been a day of no sun. But for these people…
I remember how it kept feeling darker even though it’s summer and the sun won’t set until around 9. I thought it was just the clouds darkening for impending rain, but what if it wasn’t just that? What if the sun has just literally not risen here in…God, how long?
How long did they stay here, waiting for a sun that would never rise to break away the gloom? How many days of darkness did they endure? When the days turned into weeks, and then into months trapped in the dark, as their brain serotonin dropped and calcium absorption kicked in, was that when they finally decided to pack up and leave for greener pastures? Humans weren’t made to live in the dark for so long. When the sun for whatever reason just refused to rise, they would eventually be forced to leave for the good of their families.
But…no, it couldn’t have been just that, because all those cars left behind indicate that they had to leave in a hurry, so fast that starting up their cars was too slow for them. Hurricane maybe? Likely, even though the damage around here is so minimal it doesn’t make a lot of sense. But I can’t see any other realistic scenario, unless…
I gulp as the thought enters my head. And once thought such as that enters, it’s impossible for it to leave. No matter how ridiculous it sounds or unrealistic it may be, it festers in there until you finally embrace it…or are driven insane by it.
What if something came in with the fog? Something that made everyone have to leave in a hurry, or…or worse? What if-
Suddenly I’m sure that I am not alone.
I spin around, looking frantically from one pew to the other, and then up to the top balcony where the organ is located. I see nothing, but that doesn’t mean nothing is there. Suddenly it feels like eyes are everywhere, watching me. Waiting.
And do I hear something skittering around?
“Hello?” I call out, and my voice echoes off the walls and reverbs around the room. Nothing responds. In the silence, I feel I can hear nothing and everything all at once, and my resolve finally breaks.
I decide that I’ve been here long enough.
I don’t run out of the church. I turn around and walk calmly out the way I came, again dipping my fingers and crossing myself. This time it’s not just out of habit.
As I step outside, I look around. Which way did I come from again? I can’t remember, although I’ve only been inside maybe five minutes total. I look from building to building, but none of the streets look familiar to me. The panic in me swells at the idea that I may have just screwed myself irrevocably…and then I force myself to breathe. No, I will not lose my head here. I cannot.
So, I face the church to get my bearings, and I remember roughly the direction from which I first viewed it, and so I walk back past the bar down the street. It’s full dark now, no light, and so I take out my phone and turn on my flashlight. The light barely cuts a path through the fog but right now it’s my best friend in the world and so I shine it ahead of me as I try to walk as calmly as I can down the street.
I hear something behind me. Footsteps? Maybe.
I pick up the pace just a tad.
In the dark, everything around me looks alien and unfamiliar. I shine my light on the cars and none of them look familiar. Did I take the wrong road? I try to keep the thought out of my head as I press forward, but once more it sticks to my brain like a leech, sucking the hope right out of me as my calm walk begins to become hastier, clumsier. I almost trip over a sidewalk, and I slam into a car door to keep from falling to the ground and sending my phone-my only light-flying off into the dark.
How is the fog getting thicker? Or am I just imagining it?
I think I see something move in the fog to my right.
I speed up.
The road is becoming harder to navigate. I imagine the buildings are closing in like those trap walls you see in suspense movies, but they stay as still and lifeless as they always have. I know this, but my mind is playing tricks on me, making them look like optical illusions in the fog.
How is it getting thicker still? Is it somehow aware?
I start running.
I’m hearing noises now. Not music per se but ambient noise, as if the town itself is adding its own cacophony to my plight. I can almost imagine the sounds of the people who were here before and may very well still be here now adding their voices into this morbid Greek chorus, wailing their condolences to me for my noble effort to escape, an effort that was fruitless, and that I am about to join their ranks, waiting forevermore for the next victim to discover this dead town.
Behind me, I think I hear footsteps chasing me, but it’s so hard to tell if that’s the case or if I just hear my heart thudding heavily in my ears.
I break out into a full sprint. My light is now less guiding me and more trying to keep up as I dash through the fog. Behind me I am almost positive that something is dogging my steps, keeping pace with me, and it won’t be long before it catches me. I run as fast as I can, but I was never a good sprinter, and so I can feel the cramps already hitching in my chest and gut, and eventually I’m going to find it impossible to breathe and that’s what’s going to be my downfall more than whatever’s chasing me.
But I don’t look back. I don’t want to know what it looks like. I’d rather die not knowing.
I run and I run until my foot finally snags on something and I go falling. I land face first in what feels like gravel, and I feel it scrape across my face. My phone flies out of my hand and lands somewhere ahead of me. I lay there, dazed, for a few moments before I get up and feel around for my light. Thankfully, it didn’t go far. I pick it up and turn-
And see a face staring at me through the dark.
I let out a bloodcurdling scream that cuts right through the fog and echoes off the deserted buildings of this terrible town. The scream lasts only a few seconds before I force it off, clamping my free hand over my mouth to silence myself before I alert everything still living in this town right to my location. I force myself to calm down as I flash the light back at the face for another look. Once I do, I understand.
It wasn’t gravel I fell in; it was sand. And the face is that of the doll I found earlier. I am back in the playground area outside the apartment complex. I am heading in the right direction after all.
I stare at it for a moment, and then I remember the thing that was chasing me. I turn around, flashing my light to see just how far behind me it is.
Nothing is there.
Did I lose it? It sounded like it was right on top of me, but this fog is so thick that it’s possible it’s somewhere out there, as lost as I am. Whatever the case, I’m not dwelling on it long.
I stand up and look back down at the abandoned doll. After a moment, I bend down and pick it up. I don’t know why, but I feel like I can at least rescue something from this godforsaken place.
Thunder crackles overhead, and in the silent town, it sounds like a massive roar.
I take off again, phone and doll both in hand, back down the road, down Front Street, past the deserted business and cars, and around the corner back onto Main Street. Before long I finally see the Shell station, and my car is waiting like a golden chariot. I run to it, almost slamming into the driver’s side door, and fish my keys out of my pocket.
Between my shaky hands and my tight jean pockets, they snag and then fall to the ground. I reach for them, pick them up, drop them again, pick them up again. I find the door key and go to unlock it, but my hands are shaking worse than ever. All I can think is that this is the perfect time for whatever is out there to finally grab me.
I get the key in the lock and turn it.
I force the door open and get in, throwing the doll onto the passenger seat and frantically jamming the key in the ignition, praying to God that she starts up. The engine turns, and falters. I turn again, and again it turns and falters.
No no, not today you whore, start up now or I’m dead.
I turn it again, and this time the engine catches and everything comes to life. I shift into drive and tear out of there, turning my fog lights on and beelining it down the street. I don’t stop for red lights. I don’t worry about the parked cars. I’ll settle for my miserable life.
————————–
I don’t know how I find my way back to the exit. The entire way back I’m expecting the car to misfire again, stall out, leave me stranded here. I am in luck, though. I run into no further problems. As soon as I see the sign for the exit, I unclench my jaw. Once I hit the ramp, I finally release the breath I had been holding in. Soon I am back on the highway, and the town is visible only in my rearview mirror.
The danger is behind me.
I look over at the doll, lying face up, those dead eyes staring right at me. A chill runs down my spine and I force my attention back onto the road. My mind reflects on that playground outside the apartment complex, and I wonder what horrors this doll witnessed in that dank sandbox. What stories are locked away behind those empty sockets, secrets only it knows and is unable to give me?
Against my better judgment, I throw a glance back at the passenger seat.
The doll is gone.
The surprise hits me so hard I almost swerve off the highway. I pull over quickly, but I don’t fully stop as I lean back to check and see if maybe it just fell off the seat onto the floor. Even before I do, I know better. I may not be the brightest bulb, but you don’t go through an experience like that and not realize a few harsh truths, however impossible they may seem. If you come out of it the same way you were when you went in, well…then you didn’t walk away with any sort of lesson.
After a quick look yields nothing, I sit up straight and pull back onto the road. My shock wore off as quickly as it came, and now I just feel numb.
It makes sense, in a sick way. That doll was a product of a town that had been left behind long ago. It only makes sense that the town would want to keep what was theirs. I imagine that the doll is back in that sandbox where it belongs, looking up at a building that has long been devoid of life, in a forgotten town whose secrets it keeps in its musty grave. Or maybe it just ceases to exist once you leave the town lines. I imagine I’ll never know.
But I know one more truth: I don’t believe I’ll ever see that town again. Not because I’m scared, but because in my heart I know that the next time I pass through this way, it just won’t be there. I don’t know how I know that, except that I understand things like the town operate on their own rules. Whatever happened there has changed it forevermore. It won’t appear for me again; it will merely wait for the next person who is meant to experience it.
I look in my rearview window at the town. Slowly it gets swallowed back up into the fog, and soon it is gone forever.
I tear my eyes away and continue with my journey, pushing my adventure to the back of my mind as I instead prepare for the reaming I’m about to get for being late to my sister’s wedding. Life will go on for me, the same as it always has. Eventually, this pitstop will be long forgotten…except for those long, dark nights where I wake up in a cold sweat, teeth chattering, arms covered in gooseflesh, and hands shaking.
Except for the dreams.
In the dreams, I’m back in that town, staring up at that apartment building. Only this time, those windows aren’t empty. Instead, there are hundreds of dead faces, faces of the men, women, and children that once populated this area. Their eyes are blank and devoid of any life. Their mouths are wide open, not forming any words just slack-jawed. Their hands beat forcefully against the window, palms open, pressing against the glass, wanting it to break so that they can get me. To add me to their ranks.
I blink, and suddenly the building appears much taller, and I realize that I am no longer me. I am the doll in the sandbox, lying where it always was. Unable to move, unable to speak. The only course of action being to stare idly at all those faces, as they try eagerly to break out of their prison and collect me.
I can’t leave.
I can never leave.
SickSlickProductions 