Joshua's head snapped up as he snorted awake. He had an indentation on his forehead from the bars on the side of the bed where he had been resting his head. The candle had gone out, and darkness shrouded the house, the only sound was the surprisingly loud ticking of the wall clock. He yawned and stretched the cramping muscles in his back, then bent to check on his mother. 

The bed was empty.

The bed sheets looked to have been thrown back and the bars on the other side of the bed were lowered. It was as if she had just gotten out of bed. Her drinking cup and straw were still sitting on the side table, as were the bottles and packets of medications, but she was nowhere in sight.

Jumping up from the chair, Joshua ran to the bathroom to see if she had somehow worked up the energy to make it that far. The lavatory was dark and empty. He checked the kitchen, but that, too, was empty. The cats meowed at him as he checked the back porch where she had enjoyed sitting in the sunlight and talking to visitors. Nothing.

Then he noticed that the front door was standing open. He was on the verge of panic as he bolted for the door, slamming the screen door aside and scanning the empty street. The night hid many things and cast unending shadows, especially with no moon to dispel them. 

Distant laughter came to his ears. His mother's laugh. "Come with me, Joshy," she called gleefully, using his childhood nickname, "let's go to the park."

There was a park barely a block from the house, though that wasn't her favorite. But he ran, bare feet slapping on the pavement, towards the park. Shadows seemed to boil around him as if to taunt him with what might be hidden behind them. Tree branches made dancing images as they swayed in the breeze, making the street lights and porch lights cast dancing images all around.

The park was empty, the playground equipment still and silent. It was a small park, barely more than a playground and a gazebo for picnics and parties. But he searched it all; under the picnic tables, behind the monkey bars, and anywhere else he could think of. 

"Joshy," his mother sang out again, "let's play hide and seek."

"Where are you?" he yelled into the night, "I don't want to play this game!"

A ghostly giggle was the only reply.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught a white flash, as of a nightgown disappearing behind a large evergreen tree. Without hesitation he turned and sprinted towards it, hoping to catch her before she hurt herself. How did she get out of bed in the first place? Jumping around the tree he reached out and grabbed her.

"Hey!" It wasn't his mother. 

"I'm sorry," he began to say. Then he recognized her; it was his step-sister. "What are you doing here, Brandy?"

"I don't know. I thought I was dreaming. Are you real?"

"I'm real," he assured her, and pinched her nose to prove it.

"Ow! Stop that!" she punched him on the shoulder.

"See? Real."

"I think I've been here before," she said, looking around curiously.

"Of course you have. Mom's house is just over there."

"Over where?"

Josh turned to look where he was pointing. The houses he saw were definitely not the same ones that had been there before. These were shabby hovels that seemed to be made out of mud and sticks instead of bricks and lumber. The street was no longer paved, but compacted dirt. The large evergreen that they had been standing next to was now a tall oak tree that was barren of leaves and with bark peeling away from the trunk, almost as if it was dead.

"Uh, Brandy?"

"Yeah?"

"Where are we?"

"I don't know," she frowned, "but I swear I've been here before."

"You've been here? In this village of mud shacks?"

"Yeah. I just can't remember when."

"'Ere now, 'ew ah yoo?" a cracked voice that sounded like it was from an ancient stone said.

Joshua and Brandy whirled to find a short, fat old woman sitting on a stone, leering at them with one eye, the other eye covered by a thick lock of hair. She looked as if she had been dropped in from a Muppet movie, with her wild gray hair sticking out from under a long pointy hat, and her green and grey striped stockings under black witchy boots.

"Oh! Hello. My name is Brandy, and this is my step-brother, Josh."

"Watrya doin' 'ere?" the old woman sneered.

"Looking for my mother," Joshua said, "have you seen her? She's a short old lady with short curly white hair and wearing a white nightgown."

"Nah," she spat on the ground, "taint no one 'ere like tha'. But you'se kin ask ta night watchman."

"And where is he?"

"At ta gate, o' course. Whar else ya tink a watchman'd be?"

"Okay, where's the gate?"

"Down yonder," the hag pointed a gnarled finger towards a dark alley between ramshackle huts.

"Thank you."

"Twon't do yer no good," 

"Why not?"

"Coz if'n she'da cum inna town, I'da seen 'er."

"Okay. I'll go ask the watchman anyway, if you don't mind."

"I dun mind a'tall. Yer time te waste."

The darkness was thick, and they could hardly see where they were going. The lane was littered with trash; broken pieces of wood that might have once been furniture, fruit rinds, discarded clothing, broken pottery, and a thousand other things that they didn't really want to look too closely at. More than once, one or the other of them tripped over something and nearly fell on their face.

"Gods this is disgusting," Joshua said, holding his nose against the foul odor.

"It's worse than dirty diapers," Brandy agreed, referring to changing her own children's as well as her several grandchildren, though she didn't look nearly old enough to have any.

Up ahead there was a single light, flickering as if it were a candle, or maybe a torch. As they drew closer, they found that it was a lantern swinging gently from a gimble mounted on the only stone wall that they had seen. The stone wall extended across the road and had square towers on either side of a wide wooden gate crossed by bronze bands riveted in place. A single wooden door made of cracked planks was set into the side of one of the towers, just under the swaying lantern. 

They looked at each other and both shrugged, then headed for the broken door in the tower. There was almost no debris on the road here, but that towering wall loomed ominously above them, appearing to have no top in the dim light cast by the single lantern.

There was a large brass knocker on the door in the shape of a goblin-like face. As they approached, Joshua reached for it. It's metal eyes snapped open and the mouth spoke;

"Who goes there?" it demanded in a brassy voice.

"Uh, I'm Joshua and this is Brandy," he said as he jerked his hand back.

"What's your business here?"

"We're here to see the watchman."

"I'm the watchman," the knocker grated, "whatdya want?"

"Oh, uh, I'm looking for my mother," Josh explained uncertainly, "she's an older lady, short curly hair, white nightgown. Have you seen her?"

"She ain't come through the gate."

"Okay... has she some from the town?"

"Nope."

The step-siblings looked at each other, deciding what they should do next.

"What's on the other side of the gate?" Brandy asked the goblin knocker.

"Dunno," it chuckled, "never been there."

"Can we go through?"

"If'n ya really wanna."

"Yes please."

It paused for a moment, studying her with one eye closed, then said, "are you sure?"

"Yes," Joshua sighed heavily, "why wouldn't we be?"

"Ur, no reason," the gate began to swing slowly outward, "just don't go getting lost."

"Thank you," they both said at once as they marched towards the opening gate.