Popsicles
1.
A dusty road ran up to the side of a large group of run down houses faded with time and history until they blended with their surroundings and lay baking and sweltering under the setting sun. A swelling plastic thermometer peaking at 101 begged for relief as it hung haphazardly on the peeling side porch. There seemed nothing that could save these sagging houses except that as the sun slowly sank into the horizon and a hint of a breeze began to pick up, the street lights came on bringing the chattering voices of children gathering together for their ritual summer street game of Calvin ball, which consisted of a large ball that had a good bounce, some hand made flags and a good base for sliding into. As soon as the first street light came on everyone would race towards the one empty lot, past the heap of forgotten bicycle parts and faded lawn ornaments, near the large wall that stood by itself on the edge of the empty lot, shimmering like a mirage in the evaporating heat a oasis of trees towering over it like a protective mother hen.
But behind this seemingly idealic place, lay a secret that only the small community shared. It had become almost an urban legend except that the kids who gathered on this lot almost every night could attest for their presence. Parents would warn their kids almost like a mantra at night, passing down what they had been told as kids, before they went out, ‘don’t talk to the ghosts, don’t listen to their song, they will suck you away until all that remains is your picture on the milk carton.’ They would say to eager faces that silently promised. Even though only the kids could see them, pearly white wisps that came along with the evening breeze, becoming clearer and clearer as the night wore on, everyone knew that they were there, always watching, waiting.
2.
Kate ran out of her room, ball tucked in under her arm, handkerchief flag tucked carefully in her worn jean pocket. “I’m heading out dad!” she called out, before a voice stopped her just as she was opening the screen.
“Aren’t you forgetting to take out the trash? You forgot last night.” A scratchy hoarse voice rises from the green vinyl couch.
Kate made a face, “Can’t I do it later? Its too hot to take it out.” She said knowing what the reply would be.
“You’ll take it out now, and make sure that you get the crap off the counter too.” The voice said with an air of finality.
“Fiiiine…” Kate grumbled setting down the ball and grabbing the large black trash bag started sweeping the remains of mummified banana peels and harden bits of old pizza crusts, into it. Flicking off a brave roach on an empty bottle she hauled it to the door. “K…I’m taking it out now. No need to get up!” she shouted, carefully balancing the ball and the heavy bag while slipping on a worn pair of green converse shoes.
It was already dark enough so that the summer fireflies were clustering on the screen door attracted by the bare light that hung off to the side as Kate set off towards the trash pile, which was just off the side of the wall. Tonight the moon was just perfect, bright and full so that it illuminated a path that seemed almost magical; and Kate was in a magical adventure-seeking mood. She’d always wondered what the big deal was with the silent treaty towards the ghost kids that were always watching from the sidelines as she played with her friends on that empty lot. Most would sit on the wall and stare out as if waiting for an invitation that never came.
Kate had been taught, just like everyone else that lived there that these kids were from a mining accident back in the late 1800’s that had gone horribly wrong killing many of the children working in the coal mine and trapping the rest so that the villagers at the time heard their crying and pleading for weeks as they slowly starved to death unable to be reached from the outside world until one by one they began to appear at night, mingling with villagers, their haunting silver eyes following them. On the wall were the names worn away by the elements and on top of the names were yellowed pieces of paper made brittle by the sun of children who had just vanished, having gone out to play with friends only to never come home. With a loud sigh, she tried to reach up with her free hand to wipe the sweat from her brow, only to loose control of the ball as it went bouncing away at the exact moment the bottom of the bag tore open spilling its contents all over, close enough to the wall that it scared the neighbors tabby cat Django out with a hiss.
