The Corner of Dosmo and Rhogarmo

My husband and I drove through the golden gate into Faith Valley; it was as if we were passing through Heaven’s Gate. After a few yards, the road split into two branches: Dosmo and Rhogarmo Street. In the middle of the fork was a large church with two tall towers, each topped off with a large cross. We made a right onto Dosmo and did not have to drive long before we arrived at our new house, ready to start our new lives. It was a well-kept Victorian style home surrounded by a white picket fence. After pulling into the driveway and getting out of the truck, I sensed eyes staring at me. I turned around and saw a man next door, watering the plants in his front yard, staring at us.

“Hello!” I shouted. “We are your new neighbors. This is Ben Adams, my husband, and I’m Taylor Evans. We waited for our neighbor to welcome us to the neighborhood and introduce himself, but he did not do so. He just kept staring at us. He was so entranced by our mere presence that he didn’t even notice the snake rapidly slither into his garden. We eventually gave up and walked up to our front door. As we were about to enter our new home and new life, I noticed a park with a playground a few houses down from ours. It was right behind the church we had passed earlier, and many young children were there. Strangely, in the middle of the playground, was a crab apple tree. I saw a young child sneakily reach for a crab apple, but his mother slapped his hand away. While the child was being reprimanded, I saw a snake in the tree. As I was observing its ominous presence, my husband loudly introduced us to all of the children and parents at the playground. Everyone looked at us, but no one returned a greeting. Some of the children shyly waved at us, only to be frowned upon by their silent parents. Tired of the cold welcomes we were receiving, we decided to head inside. As I closed the door to the street outside, I noticed a group of teenagers observing us from the sidewalk across the street. We didn’t even bother to talk to them.

Later that evening, as we were unpacking boxes in the kitchen, I nervously said, “I think we should have a dinner party and invite all of the neighbors. It could be a good icebreaker.”

Ben looked at me as if I had suggested we should wear clown costumes to my sister’s wedding. “Are you being serious? You saw how they looked at us. If they can’t manage to say hello, I doubt they would agree to spend an entire evening with us.”

“That’s exactly my point,” I responded. “They aren’t being very welcoming. Inviting them over might be suicide, but it’s the only chance we have at warming them up to us. Would you rather spend one miserable night with these people or be judged whenever we leave the house?” Ben thoroughly pondered this as he filled the refrigerator. “We moved here to get away from our parents’ and church’s disapproval and receiving more defeats the purpose. Besides, maybe a dinner party with these squares will give us practice for your sister’s wedding next month. I have had nightmares about the glares we will get there.”

“Okay, fine,” said Ben, “but you have to do the dishes after.”

So, it was settled. I was to print out some makeshift invitations for an impromptu dinner party, and hand them out at the church service the following morning. All things considered, we slept pretty well that night, or at least as well as you can on a mattress on the floor. Exhaustion took over our bodies like a demon sitting on our chests. The only thing that caused us to stir was a small stone hitting our bedroom window. This event angered my husband a great deal, but I reminded him that our bovine neighbor could have launched the rock at our window while mowing the lawn in the middle of the night with his silent lawn mower. Ben laughed at this. Maybe I could charm our neighbors with my high quality humor.

The next morning, Ben and I arrived at church before anyone else because we wanted to hand out invitations as parishioners entered the church. Perhaps the Bible verse “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself” carved into the sidewalk leading up to the church would subliminally persuade them to attend our party. Once the sun began to peer over the church from behind, shrouding the outside world in the shadows of the crosses atop the towers, the church bell began ringing. The ringing ever so slowly brought in the churchgoers. They walked slowly and drudgingly, as if they were zombies slowly closing in on their prey.

We gave each person entering an invitation, introducing ourselves in the process, but no one responded. They took the invitation and walked right past us. We may as well have been two marble statues holding certificates for free food because that’s how much acknowledgement we received. They all ignored us: the woman wearing denim and lace to a church service, the man with the sides of his head shaved, and the old woman carrying a platter of shellfish. Each one pretended we didn’t exist. They probably only accepted the invitations so as to not have to hear our pleas when they refused. The last woman to enter the church was the only one dressed as nicely as us. She was a woman who appeared to be in her early thirties. “Hello, there,” she said, her golden hair glowing in the morning sunlight. “Are you the new neighbors I heard about? My name is Jessica! What’s yours?”

“I’m Ben and this is Taylor,” said my husband, grabbing my hand.

“Well, welcome to the neighborhood! It really is great here. I assume you have met the other neighbors. Have they treated you two well?”

“Well, not exactly,” I responded. “They haven’t been very welcoming.”

“Aw shucks,” said Jessica. “They can be a bit close-minded sometimes. Don’t listen to anything they say. You two make a great couple. They’ll come around eventually.”

“Thank you. That means a lot,” Ben said. “Say, Taylor thought it would be a good idea to have a dinner party to win over the neighbors. It doesn’t look like you need much winning over, but would you like to come? I know it’s a bit last minute.” He handed her an invitation, which she quickly read.

“A dinner party tonight? Why, that sounds absolutely lovely! I’ll be there and I’ll make my famous Devil’s food cake!”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that! Your presence is more than enough!” I responded happily.

“Oh please, it’s the least I can do!” she said as she unexpectedly hugged both of us. “I’ll see you two tonight!” she exclaimed, before entering the church. We entered behind her and took our seats as the service started. While Reverend Kathy Jones was preaching about God’s endless love, we could feel the eyes of our neighbors piercing through us, or, rather, bludgeoning us like stones. We were foreigners to them, something exotic to be observed. We were out of our natural habitat. They probably thought that we belonged in San Francisco and not in such a sacred gated community.

After the service, we headed home. The walk was short, but we felt everyone watching. Even the snake in the crab apple tree seemed to stare at us as we passed by. Once inside our house, we were relieved. The walls provided salvation from the passive-aggressive judgment of our neighbors, or at least a barrier. Based on people’s reactions, we weren’t expecting any RSVPs, other than from Jessica. We sat around, hoping, at this point, that no one would call. Our worst fears came true, though, when my cell phone rang. Luckily, it was just Jessica. She said she would be there early to give us pointers and to help us prepare for the party. We accepted her offer graciously, but would there be anything to prepare for? We sure didn’t think so, until the phone rang three minutes later. It was someone by the name of Mary saying she would come. A call from a Jack came three minutes later, and a call from a Stacy came three minutes after that. In three minute intervals, it seemed like every adult in the neighborhood reserved their place at our party.

We scrambled around frantically for the next few hours, putting together something that resembled a meal. As promised, Jessica arrived early. At this time, the sun was beginning to set, giving the sky a red tint and casting the shadows of the church’s crosses onto our property. One made its mark on our front lawn and the other penetrated through the window and into our living room. “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight!” said Jessica enthusiastically, as she set the table. “That means tomorrow will be great and that tonight must go well!” As the time on the invitation arrived, Jessica told us to listen to their views and opinions, but to pamper them heavily. “They will warm up to anyone who treats them like royalty,” she said.

At the indicated time, the guests showed up all at once, dressed in nicer clothes than they wore to church. They certainly were all very punctual. We sat down at the table and began eating. I tried to initiate a conversation right away. “So what does everyone do for a living?” I asked. My question received a few short responses, but sparked no further discussion. “So what do you think of the President?” I was sure that politics would spark a conversation, but all I received were a few nods and shakes of heads. We sat there silently for a while. It was only a matter of time before someone addressed the elephant in the room.

“So did either of you grow up without a father?” asked one man, bluntly, catching us thoroughly off guard. The other guests, however, acted like the question was long overdue.

“Excuse me?” Ben and I said, in unison.

“It’s just that people who end up like you two often lack a father figure in their lives.” We sat there, dumbfounded and revolted.

“I don’t think that’s an appropriate question to ask them,” said Jessica, defending us.

“Why not? I’m just being curious,” he insisted.

“Yeah,” chimed in a woman. “Did you two face some sort of abuse as children? I find that’s often the case.”

“I bet you could get better if you tried really hard,” said an older woman. Everyone nodded and expressed their agreement. Ben got up from the table and left, heading outside.

“Listen,” I said, “what we do with our lives is none of your business. We deserve happiness as much as the rest of you.”

“Are you sure about that?” said another man. “Maybe some hardship would teach you to be less flamboyant! We would all appreciate that!” I was furious. Jessica put her hand on mine to comfort me.

“You are all being very rude,” she said. “That is no way to treat our new neighbors!” Ben suddenly came back inside with a cut on his forehead, blood dripping down his face and staining his shirt.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Those stupid teens pelted me with rocks!” This got quite the laugh out of our guests. I stared at them in disgust. A series of thuds suddenly began coming from the front of the house. I went over to the living room window and pulled back the curtain. Teenagers were outside, pelting the house with rocks. One hit the window in front of my face and cracked the glass.

“You people need to tell your kids to stop!” I shouted. They did nothing except smile and giggle. A brick suddenly smashed through the living room window. “Do you guys not care about what’s happening right now?” I screamed. “I’m calling the cops!”

“I’ll call for you!” shouted one of the guests. He beat me to the kitchen and pushed my phone into the water-filled sink. He did it on purpose, but acted like it was an accident.

“You all need to leave!” I screamed. No one got up. “Get out of our house!” Suddenly, something metal smashed through the window. It hit the living room floor and exploded, throwing me to the floor. Smoke that smelled like sulfur filled the house. “Why is this happening?” I screamed. “We have to leave, Ben!” I grabbed Ben and opened the front door, only to see the kids slashing the tires on our truck. When they saw us, they came charging inside, spraying pepper spray into Ben’s eyes in the process. They began spray painting slurs on the walls. On top of this, our party guests stood up and began breaking our plates, before moving on to our chairs. Together, they smashed our dining room table through the kitchen wall. The old studs snapped and the floor above came falling down into our kitchen. Ben and I screamed.

Jessica was desperately trying to stop everyone, but they responded by throwing her down the basement stairs. We went down after her, only to get locked into the basement. While our party guests and their children destroyed our house, we tried to wake Jessica, but she was unresponsive. She had landed on her head and died.

We listened as our walls were smashed in, our windows were shattered, and our personal belongings were looted and destroyed. We listened as our new life was killed before it could begin. “Why do they hate us so much?” asked Ben. I had no answer. All I could do was pray for it all to stop.

It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that the commotion stopped. Once the sun began to rise, we worked up the courage to leave. Ben and I climbed the stairs to exit the basement. I carried Jessica’s body. The locked door was easy to bust open because the mob of partygoers had carved an explicit image into it. As we headed for the front door, the damage we saw broke our hearts. Every wall was ripped down to the studs or worse, all of the furniture was in pieces, obscenities were carved into the floor, and all of our photographs were burning in the fireplace. I laid Jessica’s body on the floor before opening the front door. Standing outside, on the sidewalk, were the partygoers.

“Please don’t go out there!” Ben pleaded.

“We can’t leave until they let us,” I responded. I grabbed one of the knives that was stabbed through the defaced, but still vibrant flag hanging on our virtually nonexistent wall, and walked onto the porch. “What is wrong with you people?” I screamed. “Why can’t you just leave us alone? What did we ever do to you? You are all monsters!” I ran forward, but tripped over a rope tied across the porch steps, sending me falling to the ground. I looked at the displaced rope and then at Ben, still standing in the foyer. “Ben!” The house suddenly exploded, fire shooting out of every opening. The foyer was now a fiery abyss. This explosion set off a chain reaction. Every house in the community exploded one after the other until it was all one big fire. I turned to the partygoers, who observed me emotionlessly. “Murderers!” I screamed. The ground began to break under me.

I stood and charged at the group, wielding my knife. I leaped over the white picket fence as every house on the block collapsed into the ground. Furious and heartbroken, I slashed the knife at anyone I could reach, but they quickly overtook me, tearing my shirt to shreds, ripping off one of my pant legs, and stealing my shoes. I managed to slash at the arms holding me and broke free. I sprinted down the sidewalk as sulfuric gas sprayed out of the storm drains. The partygoers ran after me as the street slowly but surely collapsed into the fiery abyss behind them. I ran past the corner of Dosmo and Rhogarmo, and right to the gate as cars whipped by outside.

“Help me!” I screamed, but no one seemed to notice me or the massive fire behind me. The gate was locked. I could not escape. A storm drain right outside of the gate suddenly sprayed sulfuric gas in my face. I stumbled back, gagging, only to be hit over the head with a rock. I fell toward the church, catching myself on the street sign for Dosmo and Rhogarmo, but was struck again. I collapsed onto the sidewalk in front of the church, my head bleeding profusely. The group surrounded me, armed with stones from the church’s walls, and I closed my eyes.

The group stared at Taylor’s motionless body, watching as his blood filled in the engraving on the sidewalk. “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself” was now scrawled in blood. They turned to face the approaching inferno. Killing the new neighbors, the intruders, failed to stop the blaze. They had created the blaze themselves, and they couldn’t stop it. They thought that they had killed the true evil in the community, their small sacred streets, but there was still evil left, and the fire and brimstone was destined to destroy it, to wipe it from the face of the Earth. The group ran to the gate, begging for passersby to help them, but no one seemed to noticed them or the now extremely close fire. The gate was locked. They could not escape.