“Just a little village, nothing to see here” I say to the officer.

“This is your neighborhoods second complaint, don’t make it a third” he says.

I nod and wave him goodbye. When he’s out of sight the whole village sighs in relief. The whole village meaning me. Everybody else who lives here is well…not alive.

I run to the cemetery and open the church doors to find Oklan, Harmony, and Stephan playing chess. Ok, they’re not exactly playing chest since there ghosts, but narrating where they want there peace’s to go.

“B,6” says Harmony.

“Guys the police came today they’re on to us” I say.

“Stephan’s eyes widen and he says, “no not the popo”.

Everybody laughs except for Stephan.

“We received another noise complaint. You guys need to stop partying at night.”

They all nod there heads and go back to playing.

There’s about 40 ghosts here. Since I was little I could see them, so at eight I ran away from my foster home and stumbled upon this cemetery. The ghosts have been my family ever since.

This is just a village Nothing to see here Money grows on trees And the clouds sprinkle peace

This is just a village Nothing great or spectacular The rivers flow with love And the air welcomes all

This is just a village Don’t look just pass The houses are made with thousands of rooms Each one made for someone new

This is just a village You don’t need to peak Black and white are same in sight Everyone is treated fairly

This is just a village You can just walk by The sea is crystal clear Everyone is considered unique

Maybe this isn’t a village Maybe this is something more But any place can be like that All that’s needed is teamwork

It’s just a village, It’s not important, It’s just a town, It’s not significant, It’s just a city, That’s built for business.

Places built for economies, But not for people, Live in sequel, Scream at the unequal, Even in rhe face of death, We are thought of as lesser My breath, my town, my community is less, It’s designated in a hierarchy of power And everyone thinks there’s nothing to see Villages talk, towns talk but it’s difficult to listen when you don’t know what to spot

Walking down the village path, I start to daydream. There is nothing much else to do here, even the seagulls are bored. I think about the last book I read, about exotic places I have never seen. An African plain, where the lions rule. Cold, hard to reach mountains, seeming devoid of life. But creatures do live there, you just have to know where to look.

I reach the small beach, and start to collect shells. I wonder where they have traveled from, what animals may have inhabited them. The sky is a clear blue, the air hints of summer. I stick my toe into the sea, but it’s still too cold to swim. I continue to walk on the beach. Our village is tiny, nothing too look at, but our beach stretches for miles.

In the distance I see the fishing boats return. I hope they had good luck. Time have been tough, the fishing is worse. I arrive at the jetty, and walk along its length. It’s rough under my bare feet, but I need to toughen them for the summer. I sit down, and pull my book out my bag.

Instantly I and transported to the distance lands again. Today, I am in Antarctica, reading our amusing penguins. What odd creatures, living somewhere so remote, so cold, so lonely. And having to huddle together for warmth. How loud it must get with all their chattering.

I pause in my reading, to look at the horizon. I am lonely, and desire to travel. Perhaps go to one of the places in my book. There is little room to grow in this little village. And I need more.

Joe sat on his park bench in the village square, watching while the removal truck and it’s men dissected his childhood home. Ten days had past since the council declared Newark-on-Sea unsafe for human inhabitants, but the wound, for him, was still fresh. He knew that costal erosion and flooding would eventually turn his home inside out; but the uniformed intruders, vindicated by their official court order, presented a far more dangerous and immediate threat. Watching them carelessly cast family heirlooms into cardboard boxes, he could not help but grind his teeth. Thank goodness Erica isn’t here to see this.

He turned his head to face the centre of the village square. Everything around him was changing, but he could still take comfort in the steadfastness of its uneven cobbled streets and leaning thatched cottages. Even with his fading eyesight, memories developed before him in a series of neighbourhood polaroids. A chunk in the post office wall; accidentally engraved by the handlebars of the bike he received on his thirteenth birthday. A parched fountain, which once watered the surrounding foliage that successfully snatched a rogue bouquet on their wedding day. The moss coated steps of Erica’s bakery, stained with jam dripped from the centre of fresh scones, had been left unchecked since her heart attack took centre stage in the village square only six months ago. All relics of a lifetime that, to the common eye, would be invisible. The remains of a village he was reluctant to leave behind.

“Just a little village. Nothing to see here,” was the message posted on the sign nailed to the roadblock. James didn’t believe it for a second. He’d been traveling through the brutal desert for days. He was just about ready to give up all hope. His 87’ El Camino was low on fuel. His water supply was dangerously depleted and he was almost out of food.

“Nothing to see here.” Maybe there was nothing to see, but there would be supplies. That he was sure of. He got back in his car and drove on the shoulder around the roadblock.

About a mile up the road there was another barricade. This one was manned, by scary looking guys with guns. James hit the brakes as the sentries fired warning shots into the air. He put the car in park, kept the engine running and stepped out onto the pavement. He waved at the guards and forced a smile. One of the armed men spoke into a megaphone, “turn your vehicle around, sir. The village is closed.”

James cupped his hands around his mouth to project his voice and shouted, “I mean you no harm. I’m just in need of food, water and supplies.”

“We have nothing to spare,” the guard with the megaphone answered. That was all he said. James could see the gunmen at the barricade training their barrels in his direction. He could tell they meant business. He got back in his car and turned around. It was just for show. He knew the village was too much of an opportunity to pass up. The last three towns he’d been through had been totally deserted and the corpses rotting everywhere in the streets was a telltale sign that any food or water would’ve been contaminated anyway.

James waited for nightfall. He left his car a ways off the road in the chaparral and approached the village on foot. He’d have to move stealthily. The guards at the second barricade would be vigilant. He really didn’t mean them any harm. He planned to simply collect some provisions and be on his way. He brought his empty backpack with him to load up with food, an empty gallon water jug and a gas can. Maybe it would be enough fuel to get him to a filling station somewhere further down the highway.

He gave the barricade a wide berth, hiking through the desert sand. After about an hour he could see some lights in the village. He was close. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck. When he tried to breathe his throat made a morbid gurgling sound. Warm liquid ran out of his mouth. He’d been stabbed.

“Should have listened to me, son,” his attacker whispered. Cold darkness enveloped him and James was no more.

“You know what to do” Darren Rehnquist ordered. A group of six men picked up James’ lifeless body. Fresh meat was back on the menu.

“Just a little village, nothing to see here.” His voice was low, barely audible but they all heard him. Of course they heard him. “Just us and our little village.”

She looked at him in shock, no astonishment. How could he just stand there and lie to the head of police. Maybe it was because she was always terrible at lying. Whenever her mother asked her if she took more than one sweet from the sweet jar, she would say yes and that she only took one but her mother would always see a glint in her eyes that said otherwise. Or maybe when she had been told to lie to the police only just two days ago. It was a simple lie, nothing much to to. ‘He was with me all day, he never left my sight.’ Of course it was a silly statement to make because it was all complete rubbish. She hadn’t seen him at all that day. Not even to go over the plan that had been set in place, like they said they would.

“Your lying boy.” She tunes back into the conversation playing out in front of her. The head of police, Mr. Conrad, looks down on him with irritation. “I’d never lie to you, sir. And don’t call me boy.” His words are clipped, his shoulders set. He’s always hated it when someone older and bigger than him would call him boy or look down on him, because there was only two people standing here who knew that he was much, much stronger than Mr. Conrad, or anyone for that matter. Physically? I’m not sure, we’d have to put the two of them in a wrestling ring and see, I knew he’d put up one hell of a fight. But mentally? Oh of course. Hands down. He’s far stronger than anyone mentally. And it’s that that really scares me. Not necessarily for those on the receiving end, but for him himself. He doesn’t understand how much danger he’s in, how much damage he can cause to himself. And that’s why I’m here, that’s why I need to rescue Harlan Ried. My brother.

“How about you miss? Are you going to lie to my face?” Mr. Conrad turns to me, he’s taken his hat off and is leaning it against his hip. I look over at Harlan, he gives me an encouraging nod, silently telling me it’s okay. “Just a little village, nothing to see here.” I speak the one sentence that has been drilled into my head for the past two weeks. Just a little village, nothing to see here. It’s like a cheesy line from a pop song on the radio. That one song you listen to day in and day out, only to realise it’s a horribly annoying song that gets stuck in your head. It plays on repeat in your mind, over and over again. “Just a little village, nothing to see here.” I lie to him once again.

“Don’t you wanna stick around?” Earnest asked his partner. “See what’s going on while we have a bit of downtime?”

“Just a little village,” said Terry between bites of his donut. “Nothing to see here.”

They were sitting in a local pastry shop of a small village called Smallton, which lied just a couple hours north of the Capitol. The two had finished their mission early, and were scheduled back home a whole day ahead of schedule.

“Don’t you think it’s strange though?” Earnest inquired as he finished off what was left of his coffee. “I mean, how these people live? The whole world advanced, and these people choose to live as though they are hundreds of years in the past.”

This was true, as the the town itself was a relic of the past. The bakery they were sitting in had actual people making the food as opposed to a machine. There were no traveling hotels and portable food generators, but rather quaint little inns and local eateries that lined the streets. While the lack of technology made Earnest feel like he was stepping into a time machine, his partner Terry seemed to have no interest in time travel.

“Are you kidding?” said Terry, finishing off his donut. “That girl behind the counter actually touched my food. We’ll be lucky if we get out of here with no diseases.”

Earnest felt himself shrink into his seat out of embarrassment, as his partner had a tendency yell when he spoke. He could sense the glares from the locals in the shop. His embarrassment was only intensified by the fact that the locals knew better than to say anything to them since they were in uniform. Earnest hated when officials used their power to look down on others, something his partner had no problem with.

“Don’t you think it’s fascinating though?” Earnest asked almost in a whisper, hoping his partner would catch on to his discomfort and adjust his tone accordingly. “I mean, some of the technology they use was already phased out before we were even born. That doesn’t interest you in the slightest?”

“Ha!” Terry scoffed loudly and threw his hand on the table, clearly not picking up on Earnest’s hints. “Look, if you wanna stick around here and slum it up with these backwood hillbillies on your day off, be my guest. But I’m going to catch a hotel at the station and go home to enjoy my day off in cleanliness.”

Earnest shrunk down into his seat even more; he could really feel the glaring now.

“We should probably get going then,” Earnest said, wanting to exit the situation as quickly as possible now.

“That’s the smartest idea you’ve had all day” said Terry.

With that, the two men stood up and made their way towards the exit. Earnest was short and slender, and looked almost childlike when trailing behind the big and burly Terry.

Just a village, they say. Well they don’t know what this village has been through. It’s been to hell and back with me. It was my home and sanctuary in such desperate times. Now, look at it. Nothing but ashes here. They WILL pay for what they did. I pleaded and I fought, yet they showed no mercy and burned my place of refugee to the ground. They started this battle, but I’ll end this war.

Just a little village, nothing to see here. Don’t mind the straw symbols hanging in the trees. Yes, we are aware that some of them have animal bones in them. It was an art project for the children. No, that’s not red paint. Well, animal blood is cheaper and easier to get around here than acrylics. Better for the environment too. Alright, let’s move on!

Mind your step- there are some skulls around here. Huh? It’s the priestess’ house, that’s why. Nobody knows whose they are, they’ve been there longer than the village. They made nice lawn ornaments, so she left them there. Why are you all so fascinated with this village? It’s just an ordinary vill- Hey! Don’t touch that crystal! Yes, I know it’s floating in the air. Just, from this point, no touching unless I say so, okay? Let’s get going.

I don’t know why you’re so upset with me, sir, I told you not to touch the crystal. But hey, you got off lucky- those burns are only superficial! There’s a first-aid kit on the bus, we’ll treat those as soon as we get back. Oh! Would you look at that- the villagers have gathered to bid us farewell. Please, don’t stare. They’ll take great offence. Yes, I know their eyes are hypnotising, but I can assure you they are all armed. No, not with guns, ma’am. With knives. And forks.