The Cul-De-Sac

When the street lights come on, you come on inside. That's the rule of the cul-de-sac same for every child there. One of them is about to find out why..

Cul-de-sacs are insidious creations, self-contained shapes that inspire feelings of trust and security in parents while at the same time their offspring a perfectly accessible meeting ground to do whatever they please. They offer both groups a chance at nirvana, adults through suburbia and kids through subversion. 

Days of play made mandatory by care-givers made the circle at the end of the street a lawless place. Shoving breakfast down a kid’s throat then him out the door is not surprisingly a terrible way to get him to follow your rules. From the hours the sun was up until the streetlights clicked on they were under their own control.

One cul-de-sac in particular had children that filled their time with games of all sorts, races, crab-apple wars, throwing stones in outside air-conditioning units and running away to see who would come yell about the sound, something new every day with the only constant in the revelry being competition. Who was the fastest, who hit the most people, who was brave enough to go and toss in the rocks even though Ms. Freidman was checking her window every two minutes?

 Questions of that nature quickly separate the cream from the crop, and a top performer was soon distinguished; Joey Vatone, king of the cul-de-sac, truth of the youth, many nicknames were attributed to him all of which he enjoyed very much. Though he was separated from his peers athletically, his age was still the same, and as such so was his curfew.

            Streetlights on, back to the house, no exceptions. A rule enforced with ferocity by parents couldn't help but make children fear something sinister was afoot, their insistence giving the dark help it didn’t need, as it is a fear that exists in all kids naturally, powerful enough to take an inch from an imagination and stretch it into one hell of a long nightmare mile.

            That is why the children only spoke of their fears when the sun was up, preferring to think of the rumors as dust, swirling in the daytime but disappearing in the dark leaving no trace behind. Through their well-lit brainstorming sessions a consensus on the evil’s identity was soon reached; the streetlights in the circle.

            Two electric bean-stalks planted close enough together that their seeds of light overlapped on the concrete soil, they were the only sources of illumination within the shape. Their suspicious positioning had raised eyebrows older eyebrows as well, but they attributed it to some air-head urban planner rather than a malicious supernatural force. That story, of course, did not satisfy the kids.

            “They’re bait. Light keeps us safe, we all know that, but not those ones.” Wolves wrapped in sheep skin.  “Sometimes they flash.” Greg Woodley said to Joey one day that was turning dark. He had pulled him aside from the other children. Had said he had something he needed to tell him. “When they catch a kid, three times a piece, making whoever they have trapped run back and forth just to stay away from the dark. After that they never come back.”

            “You’re lying. Making up stories like the rest of them.” Joey Vatone would not be the victim of infantile delusions. Already the best at everything, the thought of something more powerful than him in the cul-de-sac was as laugh worthy as the cartoons he never missed on Saturday mornings.

            Greg drew the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and pulled it tight. “I told you cause I know you’d make sure it wouldn't happen again. I gotta go home now.” He started to walk away.

            Joey caught the receding shoulder in his hand and tried to turn the body to which it was attached around. Greg twisted out of the grip and sprinted away. “How do you know?!” A question shouted with no expectation of being answered.

            In Joey’s mind, being the most respected kid around also meant having to be the toughest and so, in spite of his very real fear of both the dark and those street-lights, he made sure to be the last to go in that night. Each one of his friends walked up the street, returned to their homes one by one just as they had come, leaving him alone. He waited for the last door to shut before beginning his own journey.

            The streetlights had just kicked on when, wearing a black hoody that masked his face and a pair of jeans, a kid seemingly materialized in front of him out of thin air. “Hey.”

            Joey jumped back. “Whoa! You scared me. Is that you Greg?”

            “No.”

            “Well then who are you?”

            “Not from around here. Who are you?”

            “I’m Joey Vatone. Fastest kid around since you obviously don’t know.” He smiled and puffed out his little chest.

            “Hmm…” The kid’s hood bobbed giving the appearance of a look up and down. “I've seen a lot of fast kids. You don’t look like any one of them.”

            Left Pavlovian from youth spent in suburbia, competitive fire flared up at the challenge. “Sounds like you want me to prove it.”

            “To the streetlights.” The kid said through what sounded like a smile. His hood still obscured his face too much for it to be seen.

            “On three, ready? One, two, three!” They started off equal, but it was clear after that first moment who was faster. Joey’s third stride put him ahead of the kid for good, every step from there on only worsening the gap between the two. The other pair of footsteps faded away and Joey turned his head to check behind him.

            Darkness. Gone was the sun which had illuminated his friends’ walks home, his conversation with Greg, his entire childhood. Time had been moved fast without asking his content, leaving him effectively alone. He ran even harder towards the lights.

            .He reached their glow, lungs full of victory rather than breath, the kid nowhere in sight. A weird flicker sounded off over his head. Joey looked out from his shining island across a sea of darkness he couldn’t believe he had crossed. This time of night was something new to him. At least he had the lights over his head…

            One shut off. Instinct forced him to the other side only for that light to then flicker. This happened two more times before they didn’t turn back on. Afraid to breath and even more-so to move, Joey was a statue.  

            Both lights flashed on at the same time to reveal the kid, hood still masking his face, standing too close to Joey. He jumped back to the boundary of the light. “You might have scared me but I still won. Fair and square you can’t say I didn't.” The kid started to close the distance. In the proper light he could see that the sweatshirt approaching him was the same Greg had on earlier that day. “I knew it was you the whole time Greg. Why don’t you take that stupid hood off?”

            The hood came down to reveal only a smooth ball of flesh. Completely absent of features besides a dividing line half way down, it sat inside Greg’s hood as if it was meant to be there. It opened wide.

**********

Just as the sun came up a child who looked like Joey Vatone returned to his house. He had seen the lights, like Greg Woodley, would tell the story, like Greg Woodley, and would never say how he knew, like Greg Woodley. Only in the daytime though, because like Greg Woodley, he didn't have a face in at night.