Traffic Light

THE TRAFFIC LIGHT

I woke up early Friday morning, ate my breakfast, and said goodbye to my mom, dad, and sister. Then I walked over to my friend’s house and met up with Sally and Rich. Together, we headed off to school.

As we strolled down the street, we joked about our weekend plans—maybe playing baseball or football, or just hanging out at the local ice cream shop.

When we reached the busy intersection, we stopped and looked both ways. Once we saw there were no cars coming, we briskly crossed the street.

The school day felt like it would never end, but before I knew it, the dismissal bell rang. I packed up my things, ready to head home and kick off the weekend.

I met up with my friends again and said, “Hey guys, when we get back, should we do something? Maybe play hide and seek or ride our bikes to the ice cream store?”

Sally said, “That sounds like fun! I just have to see what my mom says.”

Rich added, “That sounds great was really looking for something to do.

We continued walking down the path that led to the intersection. When we reached the sidewalk, we paused and looked both ways.

As we stepped off the curb, heading into the intersection, we looked up. Above us, a traffic light clung to its railing, violently blinking red. It swung wildly, jerking up and down, as if caught in some invisible storm—furious, frantic, and alive.

Startled, we jumped back onto the sidewalk, hearts pounding, trying to remember if there had ever been a traffic light there before. We looked at each other, wide-eyed—had we imagined it? Or had the street always been that empty… until now?

Just then, a tractor trailer came speeding through the intersection, missing us by inches. It tore past the very spot where we’d stepped only moments earlier.

We stood there for days—or at least it felt that way—trying to collect our thoughts, unsure what to do next. When we finally looked up, the traffic light was hanging still, glowing solid green. The intersection was quiet again.

We waited, then cautiously crossed to the other side.

Once we were safely across, we turned around to look.

The light blinked green with a loud beep-beep!

Or… did it scream?

But now… it was gone.

Just gone. Like it had never been there at all.

How does a traffic light just disappear?” I whispered.

My friend shrugged, eyes wide. “Maybe it went on vacation?”

We laughed nervously. But I couldn’t help glancing back one more time.

Something weird just happened.

We all agreed to go home and tell our parents what happened. Then we’d meet up at the park an hour later.

At home, I told my parents the story. They looked at me with a mix of concern and relief. My dad said, “You have to be more careful at intersections.” My mom added, “Why don’t you go up to your room, get changed, and then go out and play for a little while?”

So I did. Then I rode my bike to the park.

Sally was already there. I told her what my parents had said, then asked what hers had to say. She snorted. “My mom goes, ‘Wow, that’s really hard to believe. I’m sure it happened just like that,’” she said, dragging out the words in a mocking tone and rolling her eyes. “Then she hit me with a classic: ‘Well, maybe try being more careful next time.’”

A few minutes later, Rich showed up. We told him what our parents said and asked about his.

He shrugged. “My dad said, ‘Rich, stop making up crazy stories or you’re gonna face severe consequences. Just go out and play.’”

We sat on the picnic bench, choosing to ignore what our parents had said. After a quiet moment, we decided to play a quick game of hide and seek before going back to our usual routines.

We never really mentioned the incident again. As days turned into weeks, it slowly faded from our memories, like a strange dream you can’t quite remember.

Well…

That’s the way I remember it.

Whether it was real or just a dream—

I’ll let you decide.

THE TRAFFIC LIGHT (Part Two)

The Return

A few weeks later, it was like nothing had ever happened.

School was the same. The park was the same. Even the intersection seemed totally normal again—no weird blinking lights, no phantom traffic signals, no ghost-trucks speeding by. Just a street, a crosswalk, and a stop sign like always.

We didn’t talk about it. Not really.

Until one afternoon.

It was a cloudy Thursday. The sky looked heavy, like it was holding back a storm. I was sitting in class, doodling in my notebook, when the lights flickered. Just once. But it was enough to make everyone freeze for a second.

Sally turned around in her seat and gave me a look.

Rich raised his eyebrows at me from across the room.

None of us said a word.

At recess, we huddled by the fence.

“Did you see the lights flicker?” I asked.

Sally nodded. “Yeah. Probably just the storm coming.”

“Maybe,” Rich said. “But it felt like… before.”

We all stood there, quiet.

That’s when we saw it.

Across the school yard, beyond the trees, past the fence where no one was supposed to go—something was blinking.

Red.

It was far away. Just a flash between the leaves. But unmistakable.

“Is that…?” Sally whispered.

I shook my head. “No way. It can’t be.”

“We have to go check,” Rich said.

“Are you serious?” Sally asked. “What if it’s just some construction?”

“Then we’ll know,” Rich said. “But what if it’s not?”

⸻

We waited until after school. Met at the bike rack, backpacks loaded.

No one said it out loud, but we all knew: we were going to the woods.

We walked past the neighborhood park, past the old trail no one really used anymore, past the “Do Not Enter” signs that were half-covered in vines.

And there it was again—blink—red light, just for a second, pulsing behind the trees like a heartbeat.

As we stepped into the woods, it got quiet. Too quiet.

Even the birds stopped chirping.

The deeper we went, the darker it got. The branches above tangled together like fingers trying to hold back the sky.

And then…

We saw it.

A traffic light.

Standing alone in the middle of the woods.

No wires. No poles. Just floating, blinking, swaying gently, like it had been waiting.

The red turned yellow.

Then green.

Then—

Nothing.

The light went black.

We stared, frozen.

And then it whispered.

Yes. Whispered.

A sound like wind and metal and electricity all at once. It wasn’t loud—but we heard it, clear as day.

It said:

“Wrong way.”

⸻

We turned and ran.

No one said a word. We just ran, all the way back to the edge of the woods, hearts pounding, breath ragged, not stopping until the light of the neighborhood streetlamps found us again.

We collapsed on the curb, shaking.

“What was that?” Sally gasped.

Rich just stared into the trees. “I think… it came back.”

“Why?” I asked.

None of us had an answer.

⸻

That night, I stared out my window for a long time. Listening.

Somewhere in the distance, I thought I heard a soft beep-beep.

Or maybe I dreamed it.

Maybe.

But in the morning…

There was a crosswalk painted across the sidewalk in front of my house.

And there hadn’t been one yesterday.