Spirited Scriveners

Here is the beginning of a short story written years ago by Spirited Scrivener, Michael Martin.

The Neighborhood Grew Up

It wasn’t until Halloween that year that they noticed there were no children. Which was odd because they had moved onto a long, dead-end street that looked to be the very essence of Ozzie-and-Harriet-Land. But no little superheroes braved the ghost and cat statues. No little princesses drove their pumpkin coach past the jack-o-lanterns. Not even a sheet with cut-outs for eyes. The bowl of Skittles and Reeses and other movie-theater candy counter denizens lay untouched. So long as you didn’t count the empty wrappers that the three of them had left on the side table in the hallway.

“Well, phooey on that,” Amy said. “A lot of work and time for nothing but some added calories.”

“It just seems like the perfect street for kids. Maybe we just got the candy assortment wrong. Maybe it requires those candies from the 1950s. Candy cigarettes and Bazooka bubble gum,” Ian offered.

“Hmmm. O’Henry bars. Haven’t seen those in an age.” Tony pondered.

“Generally, one doesn’t have to do an incantation to get kids at Halloween. They don’t do a survey ahead of time of what’s on offer.” Amy was ready for bed. It had been an exhausting eight months for the roommates. Finding the house, fixing it up, moving in, getting settled. You wouldn’t think a house in really good shape in a very nice neighborhood would take that much work. But Amy was a decorator and her home was her calling card. There were things to be considered. Tiles to repair or replace. Floors to refinish.

Fortunately, Ian was a handy handyman to have around. The plan had been for Amy to buy the house and Tony to be her always-travelling corporate executive roommate to help with expenses. But Tony had wanted an investment of his own so they bought the house together. Which meant a bigger house. Which meant more room. And more work. When Tony’s buddy Ian agreed to be their contractor, none of them had planned on Ian suddenly needing a place to live as well. But here they all were.

“Maybe the neighbors are too leery of us new folk to allow their littles to come by.” Ian was opening a beer and contemplating how early he needed to get up to get the decorations down. It would be, of course, be All Saints Day and Halloween decorations were inappropriate even if Halloween was just the night before.

“Maybe the neighbors are too old and their littles are no longer little,” Amy tossed back. “I’ve been through the neighborhood. Do not remember seeing a single child. Didn’t think much of it until now but, now that I do, everyone here is old. They all moved here in the 1950’s and apparently almost none of them left.”

“They have to be ancient. Can they all still be alive? Surely somebody moved away or died at a normal age. Then someone younger presumably would have moved into their house? Come on.” Ian ran the logical demographics through his head as he was wont to do. “There’s no way, they all live here this many decades later.”

“Whatever. I’m going to bed. You boys have fun figuring it out,” Amy headed down the hall.

“Well, I have an early day tomorrow. So I’m off as well.” Tony went in the direction of his room, “Good night, Ian.”

“Good night” Ian nursed his beer while he looked out at the tastefully landscaped and dimly lit front lawn with the whimsical cut-outs he’d manufactured from left over construction plywood. He’d really looked forward to gauging the kids’ and their parents’ reactions to the 1950s style figures. He knew he needed to sleep but he wasn’t quite there yet so he stretched out on the sofa in the great room. It was only minutes before he was asleep in the dim light of the table lamp.

It seemed several hours later that Ian woke with a start but the big decorative clock above the fireplace swore that only about an hour had lapsed. “Liar,” Ian muttered at the clock and looked around for his cellphone. A sound outside made him stop. It sounded familiar like something he had just heard in his sleep. Like people talking. In kind of unison…

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