28th Street

It was a dim and foggy night on 28th Street. The area was still moist from the rain that had fallen prior, and the streets were empty due to the storm that had just passed. Even the wild creatures who were known to roam around this street, rain or shine, were tucked away into whatever holes they called home. With this emptiness came a silence that would be broken every few seconds as water dripped onto the street from the flickering street lamps, creating puddles with empty reflections. Amongst the fog, a silhouette appeared. It took the appearance of a human, and once out of obstructed view, it was a man. Late 30s, suit and tie, briefcase in hand, and slouched shoulders indicating that his day of professionalism has finally ended.

28th Street was a street this man was unfamiliar with. Due to the debris that had fallen and blocked his usual path, he was forced to take a detour. Still, this man was a creature of habit and pulled out a lighter from his pocket as his usual way of smoking the stress way. He flicked the sparkwheel and lit the flame, but it only lasted a brief moment. The man tried again, but still the same disappointment. When he tried a third time, he realized that the flame was not going out as it usually would. The movement of the fire right before it would go out simulated the same motion of one being blown out. To test this theory, as quick as the man could, he lit the flame and blew it out before it went out on its own and affirmed that it was the exact same motion. Stunned but unsure of what to do with this revelation, the man continued down the abandoned street.

The sounds his footsteps produced echoed with each squish placed onto the wet concrete. Sounds that no human soul besides himself could hear because upon further examination deeper into 28th Street, the man realized that there was no evidence of contemporary human life. The signs of forgotten convenience stores were splintered on the ground alongside littered trash and broken glass. These objects had been rotten away from rain and senescence, and the crumbles of destroyed concrete buildings decorated the seemingly endless street. Chills were beginning to run down the man's spine, but whether it was out of fear or the sudden drop in temperature was unknown. The fog he had been walking into began to thicken, and his visibility was limited to each section of the street his foot would step on. The man started to walk faster, uncertain whether the direction he was going towards was the correct way anymore. Sounds and voices unbeknownst to him manifested in the fog surrounding him, distorting his cognition. The man stopped and took a breath to process the situation and could make out the screams and whispers that were being echoed around him. Leave this place. You don't belong here. This is sacred land. This was our land. You did this. You will pay for what you've done. You will become one of us.

Suddenly, before the man had time to react, the fog dissipated, and when the man's eyes fully adjusted to the new atmosphere, it was as if the fog had never existed in the first place. The street was now brightly lit and no longer damp. Upon further observation, the destruction and decay that existed just moments ago were nonexistent. Instead, the ruins of buildings and litter were replaced with the structures they once were. The building most noticeable to the man was the one with a convenience store sign hung up on the front of it. It was eerily similar to the one he had seen destroyed on the ground before. The shattered glass around that sign appeared to be molded into rectangular windows covering the building. Around the convenience store were other facilities that hosted a myriad of objects, all signifying there were signs of life. The entities were seen conversing, shopping, and living out their daily lives in a literal ghost town.

In a blink, the mirage vanished, and 28th Street returned to what the man initially saw. While he stood stunned by the event that just transpired, the fog reappeared and rapidly enclosed in on him. The fog was now acting more aggressively, seeking out the man. He kicked his feet into motion and ran as fast as he could away from the shrieking haze. Punish him! Punish him! He does not belong here! Get him! The fog's voices were reverberating louder as it got closer. The screeches enveloped the voices causing the man's ear to ring, deafening the cries that were out to get him. Eventually, the man's legs started to wear out, and he stumbled onto the concrete awaiting his fate. At last, your soul is ours. You will become one of us and atone for the sins your kind have committed. The man understood, but it was too late. He understood that he was brought here to compensate for the devastation of these people. In his final moments occupying a human vessel, he thought about his family and shed a tear that swiftly turned into the color of rage these phantoms harbored. Following the tear, the fog hued the same color and oozed the excess onto the street before fading away into the night sky.

As these events came to a close, rain fell again onto 28th Street, washing away any evidence of what happened. It was a street not even on the map nor easily accessible. It was a trap. A shunned and forgotten civilization that its left behind souls lead unsuspecting humans to their deaths during storms. No matter who they may be, if they are caught at the wrong place at the wrong time, they are kidnapped into a new family of fright. Stuck, despaired, and eventually forgotten on 28th Street.