Excepts from a Cul-de-sac

The cul-de-sac is full again. Someone just bought the Smiths’ old residence. Time to start a new chapter in my collection.

April 7

The Powells—Kevin and Amanda, a young newlywed couple—moved into 1815 today. Kevin works at an investment firm in the city, and that’s what brought them here. Amanda runs a small online craft business from home. They have the kind of bright optimism that’s almost naive. I wonder how long it will take for the reality of this place to wear them down.

April 8

The Fields, the older retired couple next door at 1805, were the first to approach the Powells. Agnes insisted. John would’ve rather stayed inside watching his game. He had a sizable bet riding on it, as usual. Agnes has always believed she’s the glue that holds this cul-de-sac together—her sense of responsibility as rigid as her smile.

Her ‘welcome’ speech was cordial but laced with an underlying warning. She told the Powells that ‘eyes and ears were everywhere’ here. It was the truth, though not in the way she meant it. John, as expected, grumbled something about his game.

April 9

The Berkleys made their approach today. Lisa, a middle-aged woman who handles the church payroll, and Charles, her husband, who is a pastor, visited. They live at 1825, just beyond the Powells.

Their meeting followed a predictable pattern: a bottle of nonalcoholic wine, an invitation to their church, and a warning about the Rosens, whom Charles labeled ‘devil’s apostles’ because they’re gay. It wasn’t subtle, but then again, the Berkleys rarely are.

April 10

The Greys finally made their appearance today. They live across from the Powells, at 1810. David Grey, a handyman by trade, offered his services with a smile that lingered too long on Mrs. Powell. His unspoken intentions were clear. Meanwhile, Michelle Grey was focused on Mr. Powell’s investment knowledge, subtly probing for tips. Their attempts at charm felt more like tactics, revealing the underlying desperation of people who always want something.

April 12

Gene and Daryl Rosen arrived last. Gene is in the midst of a mayoral campaign, while Daryl finds his satisfaction in the simplicity of gardening and baking ‘herbal’ treats. The two bickered their way to the Powells' front door, frustrated about being the last to make introductions. Gene tried apologizing for the delay, but Daryl started snapping his fingers theatrically and claiming that being fashionably late adds character. With a knowing smile, he handed over a plate of brownies.

“Enjoy them whenever you feel like taking the edge off,” he said, his tone layered with implication.

April 14

Mrs. Fields is beside herself—her cat has been missing for a week. Her gaze has shifted toward Mrs. Grey, who she believes is responsible. There’s a simmering resentment in her eyes, a silent accusation. She isn’t one to confront directly. She prefers to watch, waiting for her suspicions to be confirmed.

April 16

Mrs. Berkley got more than she anticipated today. While tending to her garden, a casual glance toward the Powells’ kitchen window quickly escalated into a scandalous scene. There, in plain view, she saw the couple engaged in an act that left little to the imagination—Amanda bent over the counter, with Kevin moving rhythmically behind her.

At first, Mrs. Berkley tried to turn away, but curiosity overpowered shame. Her eyes fixated on Amanda’s expression as if drawn by a force. The scene reached its peak when Kevin pulled back, and Amanda dropped to her knees. His gaze shifted and locked onto Mrs. Berkley’s. He smiled, adding a brazen wink that sent Mrs. Berkley stumbling backward. Flushed and disoriented, she fled indoors, locking herself in her bedroom. For the next hour, she prayed for forgiveness, though she wasn’t sure if it was for what she had witnessed or for wanting to see more.

April 18

Mrs. Powell came to my door today carrying a cake. Knocking several times, her persistence almost admirable. I ignored it, of course. She’s new here, trying to make friends, unaware that I have no interest in engaging. I don’t interfere; I observe. In this cul-de-sac, I’m the silent watcher—the one nobody notices but everyone wonders about. I prefer it that way.

My role is to capture the unfiltered moments, the raw truths that reveal themselves when people believe no one is watching. It’s not about being invasive—it’s about preserving authenticity with 200 hidden cameras throughout the neighborhood, including 75 inside their homes. If I step into the scene, I’ll disrupt the natural order. Watching them in their element is the real satisfaction. Engaging with them would ruin the purity of the observation.

April 20

Mr. Fields came out of retirement today, not by choice, but by necessity. He’d lost big on his last bet and needed to recover fast. He left early in the morning and returned late, carrying a fresh stack of betting slips. His gambling addiction is a never-ending cycle of high hopes and even higher losses.

April 21

It was another predictable clash between Mr. Berkley and Daryl Rosen. This time, Mr. Berkley was intent on saving Daryl from the ‘sin’ of his sexuality. Daryl, with his usual poise, listened quietly and then made an unexpected promise: he’d repent by baking brownies for the church bake sale.

The brownies were a hit—everyone, even Mr. Berkley himself enjoyed them without hesitation. Daryl wasn’t surprised, but he was caught off guard by Mr. Berkley’s eagerness to distribute them. It was almost as if Mr. Berkley had no idea that they were pot brownies. Perhaps salvation is more flexible than I thought.

April 23

Mrs. Powell was home alone today when Mr. Grey decided to drop by. He timed it. His wife was out shopping, as usual. The reason? A broken cabinet handle he’d secretly damaged on his previous visit, a calculated move to justify a return. He claimed he’d noticed it was loose last time and thought he’d be neighborly by fixing it.

What should have been a quick two-minute repair stretched into an hour. Mr. Grey took lingered, even persuading Mrs. Powell to accept one of his 'world-famous' shoulder massages. Her discomfort was clear, but she let it continue, unsure how to stop it without making things worse. It was brief but might have gone on longer if Mrs. Grey hadn’t returned unexpectedly. Mr. Grey left in a hurry.

When Mr. Powell came home, Mrs. Powell mentioned the fixed cabinet and nothing else.

April 26

Tonight, Mrs. Berkley tried to reignite a spark in her marriage, but the attempt was futile. She wore new underwear—not exactly provocative, but certainly better than her usual. She paired it with a small shirt, hoping to entice her husband into something beyond their scheduled routine. She wasn’t expecting the kind of passion she’d seen through the Powells' window, but she hoped for more.

Their sex life, after all, is mapped out to the day—three times a year, marked on the calendar. It is mechanical: Mrs. Berkley lies on her back, partially covered by a sheet, while Mr. Berkley performs his duty slowly and cautiously, always stopping when the literal three-minute timer goes off.

However, Mr. Berkley didn’t even notice her new effort. He dismissed her advances without a second glance, too preoccupied with his upcoming sermon about the Rosen’s sins.

April 27

Mrs. Grey finally convinced her husband to dig that hole in the backyard. She’d been asking for weeks. He didn’t question her request until he was already three feet deep, shovel in hand.

“Feels like we’re burying a body,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“We are,” she replied flatly.

Only then did he ask for the real reason. She reluctantly admitted that she had hit Mrs. Fields' cat with her car one night. She needed to bury it discreetly before Mrs. Fields figured it out.

April 28

Mrs. Fields is interested in Daryl again. Everyone knows he’s the neighborhood’s unofficial dealer, but it’s the kind of open secret people prefer not to acknowledge. Mrs. Fields tried reporting him twice before, only to end up embarrassed both times.

Today, she approached him directly.

“What do you want now?” Daryl snapped; his tone sharp as always.

“Cut the sass. I need more what you gave me last time.” Mrs. Fields shot back.

Daryl folded his arms. “You know, Agnes, both times I gave you something, it didn’t end well.”

“Nothing bad happened,” she insisted.

“Really? You called the cops on me the first time. Luckily, they were loyal customers. And the second time… well, the Smiths aren’t around anymore.”

“I had nothing to do with what happened to the Smiths,” she replied, her voice laced with smugness.

Daryl smirked. “Yeah, that’s what everyone told the cops.”

“It’s funny how some people manage to keep their stories straight,” she said dryly.

“True enough,” Daryl admitted.

“So, can you get me something stronger this time?” she asked.

“I’ll see what I can do, but if it’s like last time, you might be better off with rat poison,” he said with a wry smile.

Mrs. Fields paused, considering his words before shaking her head. “Just let me know when it’s ready,” she said, turning to leave.

May 2

Mr. Berkley received a package today. It was a DVD—of gay porn. He made sure to be home for the delivery so as not to let his wife find out. As soon as it arrived, he sent his wife to the store, seizing the opportunity to indulge in privacy. For the next hour, he enjoyed himself repeatedly, the secrecy adding an edge to his ritual.

May 4

The Fields are arguing again, loud enough for the whole cul-de-sac to hear. Mr. Fields lost another bet, and this time, a sharply dressed man named Louis arrived to collect. Mr. Fields promised to have the money soon, but the intimidating Louis wasn’t convinced. He took Mr. Fields' car as collateral, along with a cake Mrs. Fields had just made.

May 5

Mrs. Fields got her supply from Daryl. The first batch had gone into the cake that Louis took, which wasn’t meant for him. Now, he’s just collateral damage.

May 9

Mrs. Grey bought a new car with her gambling winnings. She’s been betting just as much as Mr. Fields, but always against his picks. Today, she stopped by to get Mr. Fields' latest picks—a visit that didn’t sit well with the suspicious Mrs. Fields.

May 12

Mrs. Berkley’s obsession has grown stronger. At it again peeking into the Powells’ windows she’s hoping for a repeat of last time. Last night, she noticed a faint flickering light coming from their bedroom window. Driven by curiosity, she crept quietly around the fence and found a dark corner to hide, blending into the shadows.

She stood closer than before—pressing herself against the side of the house. The blinds were drawn, but small gaps revealed enough for her to make out the shapes inside. They were at it again, but with toys. Mrs. Berkley’s breath hitched as she strained to get a better view, her shame momentarily overpowered by intrigue. She watched intently until they finished, and then trudged home while mumbling to herself about how amazing one of those toys must be. 

May 14

Mrs. Grey dropped by Mr. Fields’ place again today. Mrs. Fields is convinced that Mrs. Grey is trying to seduce her husband, and the frequency of these visits only fuels her suspicions.

May 15

Mr. Berkley approached Gene Rosen for a chance to ‘preach’ to him, hoping to save his soul. To his surprise, Gene agreed to have him over for dinner. Mr. Berkley didn’t realize that Gene had a motive of his own. With elections coming up, Gene was polling low among religious voters, and he saw Mr. Berkley as a possible solution.

May 18

Mr. Grey made another attempt to visit Mrs. Powell, hoping to continue his advances. He was already knocking on the door when Mr. Powell’s car pulled into the driveway. The sound made Mr. Grey freeze for a second, but he quickly forced a friendly smile as Mrs. Powell opened the door.

Mr. Powell called out, “Hey, what’s going on?” as he approached the house, clearly not expecting to see Mr. Grey.

“Just stopping by to help with that garbage disposal,” Mr. Grey said quickly. “Free o charge.”

Once done, he packed up his tools, offered a brief “All set,” and stepped aside as Mr. Powell took over, leaving Mr. Grey no choice but to walk away with nothing more than a failed opportunity.

May 21

Mrs. Berkley reached a breaking point today. In a fit of frustration, she tossed her Bible into the trash and prayed to the devil instead. She’d been begging God for some excitement in her life, but with no response, she decided to explore other options. Desperation makes people do strange things.

May 22

Gene spent the day preparing gift packages for his more discreet supporters. The packages were tailored to each recipient’s tastes, featuring wine, cheese, and a generous helping of cocaine. It’s the kind of campaign strategy that wins you friends—at least, the kind Gene needs.

May 26

Mr. Fields got his car back today. The cops returned it after questioning the Fields about Louis’s sudden death. It turns out Louis was poisoned, but Mrs. Fields played ignorant. She explained that her husband had done some plumbing work at Louis’s house a few days earlier but couldn’t get his car started, so he took a cab home and planned to return later to retrieve it. Her story was believable enough.

May 29

Mr. Fields mortgaged the house today for his next big bet. I’m sure he’ll lose, and they’ll have no choice but to move. Part of me isn’t sure how I feel about it. The Fields have been a steady source of entertainment—predictable in their missteps yet reliable in the drama they bring. They add a certain balance to the neighborhood, the kind that’s hard to replace.

But new faces mean new stories, and there’s a certain thrill in that, too. The Powells have only been here a few weeks, and they’ve already shown promise. Maybe there’s more to unravel before the Fields are completely out of the picture. Either way, this cul-de-sac doesn’t stay quiet for long.

May 31

Busy day.

Mr. Powell left this afternoon for a two-day business trip, unaware of the chaos left behind.

Mrs. Fields baked a lovely cake and handed it to Mrs. Grey before heading home. They chatted briefly, but there was an underlying tension—one neither could put into words.

Earlier, Mr. Fields had confided in Mrs. Grey about his pick for tonight’s big game. But he didn’t tell them about the mortgage. It was all or nothing for him now.

In the late afternoon, Mr. Berkley stopped by the Greys’ house to drop off a check for Mr. Grey, who had recently replaced their washer. They exchanged a few words, mundane small talk hiding bigger secrets. Before he left, Mrs. Grey handed him half of Mrs. Fields’ cake.

 “This will go perfectly with tonight’s dinner,” Mr. Berkley remarked as he left, just clueless.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Grey was riding her own wave of adrenaline. She’d been on a winning streak, using Mr. Fields' picks as a reverse guide. She’d won thousands so she decided to go all in, betting everything she had, including her life savings—just on the opposite team. The stakes couldn’t be higher.

Daryl Rosen made a careless mistake today, down in his basement-turned-drug-lab. He swallowed two pills, only to realize too late that they were the wrong ones. Panic set in as his body began to go numb, the sensation spreading rapidly. He tried to steady himself, but his legs buckled, and he collapsed to the floor. Desperately, he attempted to induce vomiting, but he rolled over and was at an angle I couldn’t see from.

Upstairs, Gene and Mr. Berkley were in the middle of an unusual dinner. Three bottles of wine in, Mr. Berkley, surprisingly vulnerable, asked to hear Gene’s perspective for once. It caught Gene off guard, but he took the opportunity. As the wine flowed, so did Gene’s words—honest, raw, and unexpected. Mr. Berkley seized the moment and made a bold move, shifting the atmosphere entirely.

Mrs. Berkley had spent the day trying to muster the courage to buy herself her first toy. But as dusk fell, she abandoned the idea. A crazier idea arose. She still had the spare keys from when the Smiths lived there, and the locks weren’t changed. With desperation, she ran to get the key and decided to sneak in and steal a toy.

Distracted, she rifled through the nightstand drawers, greedily eyeing the contents, but froze when she heard footsteps approaching. Hiding in the closet, she held her breath.

Mr. Grey slipped out of his house unnoticed. Mrs. Grey was too absorbed in the sports game on TV to realize he was dressed up or that he’d even left. He knocked on Mrs. Powell’s door.

When Mrs. Powell opened the door, she seemed surprised but not disappointed.

“I just wanted to make sure the garbage disposal was still working properly,” he lied smoothly.

“It’s working fine,” she replied, a hint of amusement in her voice. “But you can check for yourself if you want.”

“Sure,” he said, stepping inside. “Oh, and I brought some cake over. I haven’t tried it yet, but maybe we could share a slice afterward,” he added, heading toward the kitchen.

Mrs. Powell nodded and excused herself, rushing to change into something more suggestive. She enjoyed the flirting. When she returned, she complained playfully about her sore back.

The banter flowed easily between them. But soon, the flirting began to take a darker turn. She tried to pull back, sensing the shift, but he wasn’t ready to stop.