A Long Street

Gabriel’s head hurt. He was afraid to open his eyes. It was one of those headaches. When he eventually pried the lids open, he did not like what he saw. He was lying in the middle of a suburban road. It extended in both directions as far as he could see. House after house after house. He did not recognize any of them. Well, that is not entirely accurate. They looked familiar; they reminded him of houses he had seen before. But he had no idea where he was or how he got there. Now that he was paying attention, with his eyes wide open, something else was notably strange. There were no people, or cars, or even any kind of decorations. The houses were bare. They were painted and in good repair, but lacked any sense of someone living in them.

Gabriel was oddly comfortable in this uncomfortable situation. He was a boy scout and he was always prepared. Well, he had no supplies or anything that really prepared him. But he felt prepared for everything. That confidence never left him. He scanned his surroundings and found nothing substantially different from his initial assessment. He had never seen a road this empty; he had never been this alone. He walked to the house closest to him, “2000,” and he knocked on the door.

“Hello! Is anybody in there!” Gabriel shouted and began to ring the doorbell incessantly. There was no answer. Out of frustration, he tried the door handle. It was open. He twisted the door knob completely and stepped inside.

He found himself in an elementary school classroom. It was his homeroom from the fourth grade. He recognized it instantly and the more details he observed the more he remembered. There were religious quotes on the wall; something about beaches and footprints. It was bright. The classroom was on the second floor. As he came to terms with the sudden transition he realized the full extent of this apparent hallucination. The classroom was full of kids he recognized but could not quite place the names of. They had not kept in touch. Gabriel himself was smaller. He could recognize his own hands; but they were also smaller, less dry, and less scarred.

“Alright everybody. Take your homework out and place it on your desk.” Mrs. Houston sounded exactly how he remembered.

Gabriel did not have his homework. He did not have to look into his backpack to know that.

“Gabriel. Where is your homework?” Mrs. Houston was at his desk in the blink of an eye.

“I—uh. I don’t think I… Let me… um. Check.” Gabriel opened his backpack. Inside he found only a small pillow and the odd colored pencil.

“Gabriel. I thought we had talked about this.” Mrs. Houston looked genuinely sad. In a way he never remembered seeing when he knew her.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” Gabriel remembered that working.

“Okay. Take the pass. I am giving you another no-homework Gabriel.” Her voice was getting louder as he walked away. “I am going to have to talk to your parents.” Mrs. Houston explained with a tone that conveyed exactly how hopeless she was. Gabriel was already halfway to the door. He burst back out on the street and closed the door behind him.

Gabriel was himself again; full-sized. He tried to shake what he just saw but he was deeply unsettled. The street was calm. The sky was blue and clear. There weren’t any birds. Gabriel thought he must be dreaming. That was the only way he could explain this. Gabriel remembered what he had heard about lucid dreaming. The technique was to tap your finger against your hand and, if it went through, you would know you were asleep. He tapped his pointer finger against his hand and thought to himself: yep. That is rock solid.

“You aren’t dreaming Gabe.” The Figure spoke coolly and evenly. Gabriel spun around to see a pale man dressed in black.

“Who the hell are you? What the hell! Don’t sneak up on me!” Gabriel was flustered, but still felt prepared.

“I have always been here.” The Figure explained. “You are the visitor.”

“Where the hell is here?” Gabriel challenged him.

“Well, it isn’t hell; so, you can stop saying it.” The Figure reclined into the padded deck chair on the front porch of 2000.

“What is going on? Who are you?” Gabriel was losing his temper. He was more comfortable when The Figure was standing upright as an equal.

“I have gone by many names. It is not really important.” The Figure was toying with him and it was obvious. “Isn’t there a more important question you should ask me?”

“Where am I? What is going on?” Gabriel asked in spite of his justified expectation of an unsatisfying answer.

 “I never really thought of a name for it. It’s just a long street. It goes forwards and backwards. Further than I’ve ever cared to really walk or wander. Every once in a while, someone like you shows up. Honestly, these are my favorite days.” The Figure grinned with malice.

“How do I leave?” Gabriel was starting to feel unprepared. The Figure was getting to him.

           “You know… I’m not really sure. One day you’ll be gone, I’m sure of that. But until then, I suggest you just pick another house. This one didn’t seem very helpful… You probably should have done your homework.”

           The last line made Gabriel shiver. He had not seen The Figure in the classroom, or at anytime before the front porch. How did he know about his homework?

           “I don’t get many visitors. When someone shows up, I tend to pay attention.” The Figure answered the unspoken question. “Anyway, you should pick another house. I’m sure the next one will be better.”

           Gabriel stormed off the porch into the street. He looked back and forth. It was still very empty. He looked back towards 2000. The Figure was no longer there. Gabriel was prepared for that. He looked forward and across to 2001. He hoped that year would be better.