Ethereal Neighborhood Games

The aerial view descended upon the twisting river and the lights of small hamlets that appeared on its shore. The rocky outcrops were many, increasing the difficulty of building a settlement here that could be reached by water. The view closed on one such settlement, the scale of vision dropping as if attached to the nosecone of an incoming rocket.

Flash Forward

We walked towards the group of buildings closest to the river. They were set off from the water by about 50 yards of open floodplain that was dotted with basaltic rocks; clearly the river rose over its banks regularly here. The town seemed unoccupied at first, but soon we could here voices. A group of men approached us, but all was not well. They took an antagonistic stance and shouted a few insults. One raised a rifle.

I yelled at Goldilocks to run, run quick into town. Find a place to hide while I dealt with all this. Off she went at full sprint. An old Winchester rifle lay against the tree beside me. I picked it up and took aim at the shooter, who had by now taken cover. We exchanged a few shots old-west style, with our bullets ricocheting off of the tree bark that protected each of us. Soon my rifle stopped functioning, though whether or not it was empty of shells or just old I cannot say. I dropped it and ran after her.

*Flash Forward*

Goldilocks was now running through yards and even house to throw off the trail of her chasers. Somehow my vision became hers though our bodies remained separate. The homes were very blue collar, and had been transformed from the small river hamlet to a more suburban neighborhood similar to my hometown area in Ohio, yet unfamiliar to me. She dashed around trees, over fences and through houses. They showed obvious signs of being occupied - lights on, kettles boiling, doors unlocked - though for the most part no one was home. The chasers had spread out and were now closing in on her.

She stepped upstairs in one of the ramshackle homes found a window that provided access to the slanted roof and climbed onto it. Strangely, a chicken-wire fence about two or three feet high rose from the edge of the roof enclosing it as if to contain kids or animals and prevent them from falling off. Goldilocks found a spot along the fence, laid down, and curled her body against it. A young pale-face boy appeared at the window she had crawled through. He had short bangs that could have him pass for a medieval monk if not for his age. He stared at her briefly with a sullen but silent face that was interrupted by the sound of mens voices. The chasers' voices. Voices that were looking for her. Voices who intended to harm her. He raised his index finger to his lips, and turned back inside, away from her view.

A woman's voice, one that would seem to be the boy's mother, spoke to the men. No woman had been seen here today, she told them. As Goldilocks stared down, she could see about five men standing at the side door of the house, facing the woman whose body was just in view over the edge of the gutter, her small son standing next to her. The next house was about fifteen yards away. The yard between the two homes contained at least one mature tree whose root structure raised the level of the adjacent soil significantly, creating an uneven walking surface.

As the men turned away, one of them looked up at the roof, scanning it for anything unusual. He stared directly at her position now, holding his eyes for a few seconds. It seemed he had spotted her. Sweat began to pour from her face as she processed the terror of the moment. She met his eyes, but suppressed her instinct to act, and she lay still. The man's eyes soon drifted on and soon he appeared satisfied that there was nothing to investigate up there. It was like she had been covered in camouflage, and his gaze could not penetrate through it.

The men dispersed, though she could still hear them talking to each other as they moved among the houses across the street, farther and farther away but still audible. She turned to find a man, an unfamiliar man whose face was somewhat similar to the boy who had stood there just ten minutes ago. As he took notice of her, his expression changed to one of distress. He turned his head toward the street, and called out. Goldilocks rose and moved quickly to the window. In one smooth desperate motion, she kick the man. Her boot heel caught him square in the mouth, and he fell back onto the floor of his son’s room. His head impacted with a dull thud and he appeared unconscious. She ran down the stairs and out the side door at full speed. She could hear the voice of the mother behind her calling out to her husband. She was sure the woman had not seen her, but she wasn’t staying around to give her a chance. She opened her stride, ran through some fence gates, and towards the street that ran behind the previous one. She continued running, running until the voices of men had all but disappeared, and then some. She was away from them and away from the danger. She found a place to hide among some trees, and she remained there for some time.

*Flash Forward*

We walked out of the neighborhood where I had found Goldilocks, across a small bridge and into an urban area that I did not recognize. The bridge spanned a canal that resembled one in Bangkok, full of sewage. Beyond to our left was a construction site. We made our way to it and walked inside the I-beam maze of its interior. My friend Damian appeared, and guided us through the site. There were a number of African-American children around, and it became apparent that this was a play site of theirs. It was indeed an urban church that was being renovated. Upon entering another room, a group of African-American women were working, washing laundry by hand in a series of deep wash basins. Damian’s son Aidan joined us briefly to say hello, but soon we left them behind as we began to exit through the back of the church.

Entering a dark room on our way toward the rear, everything was dark though a strange glow illuminated a miniature cityscape much like an architect’s model for a neighborhood, or perhaps more accurately, the model of the Map Room in Tanis from Raiders of the Lost Ark. Upon closer inspection, the landscape was not full of buildings, but of monuments and gravestones. Most were small, but some monoliths and towers jutted up from the floor. The light gave each a small shadow that in turn created a chilling scene before us.

We navigated through a pathway that crossed the model-train graveyard that in turn led us to a sun-lit enclosed graveyard, perhaps the real version of the model we passed through. A small white house that might be mistaken for a mausoleum stood in the center before us, but it seemed more of a temple of sorts. From our right, and old man dressed in white approached us. He had a bald head, though long white hair extended from the back and sides. His eye sockets were large, and held dark pupils that were at once frightening and soothing. We felt safe but cautious. He silently opened his left palm as if to motion us to the right, to show us something important there.

Then I woke.