John Locke bundled up, attached the leash to Boomer’s collar and stepped out into the icy night. After the sun set it cooled down so fast the puddles on the walk were already frozen. They had only made it a few houses away when he heard a call – “Johnny!”

It sounded like Margaret, but he was bundled up so well he wasn’t sure where it came from. John pulled his hood back and listened. He looked back toward his house, but saw no-one there. If it was Margaret, she would have to be outside, it was far too clear to have come from inside the house.

It puzzled him. Maybe one of the neighbors had called out, but he didn’t see any of them either. He and Boomer were the only ones on the street. Boomer’s walk would have to wait.

“Come on boy,” he said, tugging the leash. “Let’s go back and check on mom.”

Upon reaching the driveway, John wrapped the leash around the bumper of his pickup. “I’ll be right back boy.”

He unlocked the front door and stepped back inside the warm house. “Margie?” Silence resounded through the house. “Margie?” he called again to no answer. Quickly John moved though the house, discovering that his wife was no longer there.

He stepped back outside to find his dog missing and the leash as well.

“Someone’s playing a prank on me”, he thought, but his heart was alarmed. The street was still empty, so John hustled through the gate into his backyard. Seeing nothing out of place there, he ran back out front. Hmmmm… Something was different.

After a moment he realized what it was. All the cars, even his pickup, had vanished from the entire street. Dumbfounded, he looked up and back along the barren asphalt. His panic had been replaced by total bewilderment. That only increased after deciding to go inside and call the police, he turned to find his house missing as well. Damp weeds and patches of grass covered the lot.

“I must be dreaming,” he wondered aloud, realizing now that all the houses were gone and the street itself had been replaced by chunks of wet dirt.

“Johnny!” Margaret’s voice again floated atop the still air. But this time the direction was clear.

John spun around to see his beautiful wife. She was now a very old woman, smiling through a web of wrinkles. “Margie! What happened to you?” he cried out, forgetting about everything but her.

“I grew old sweet-heart. Come now, we have better places to be,” and she held out her frail hand for him.

“But where did you go?”

“I’ve been here all along. I grew old and died on this street. So did Boomer. He refused to leave your side the night you slipped and cracked your head on the walk. He howled and howled, but you had already lost too much blood by the time the neighbors found you.”
He took her hand and they walked.

“I heard you call for me,” he said, searching for answers in her eyes.

“Yes, I called out for you twice. The first time you were confused. The second time you saw me.”

“But-“

“Time isn’t quite what it seems honey,” she said, squeezing his hand. Before he could speak again, she sung out into the night, “Boomer! Here boy.”

In the distance a dog barked and a shape lopped toward them. John bent down and Boomer, gray about the muzzle and eyes, but as spry as a puppy, jumped up and licked his face.

They walked on. Behind them an office complex covered the land they had previously called home.


Pictue by imgur.com