Freedom

There is a town on the edge of nowhere the locals call Freedom, though you will not find its name on any map. There are small homes that line the streets, each one just like the others. The residents don't get many visitors, but those who do come are quick to remark upon how "quaint" the town is, like something out of a fairytale. Children play in perfectly manicured lawns, quietly gathering the wildflowers that grow on the outskirts of town. Mothers hang the laundry and fathers tend the grill, each person with a subtle smile across their face. Perfect. Serene. The children do not cry or shout. There are no arguments in this town, only murmured pleasantries. The visitors, as enamored as they may be by the towns character never seem to stay long. If you ask they will tell you they left early because urgent matters presented themselves at home, but such excuses are rarely true. In reality as they spent more time in this town certain aspects begin to seem... odd. Each family has two children. Each house has three tulips in its flower bed, never more and certainly never less. The children leave their homes at the exact same time each day and enter a quaint schoolroom in unison. Everything is calculated. Precise. Perfect... and deeply disturbing.

In the neighboring city rumors began to circulate, and visitors to the odd town dwindle. As is policy, the city police department sends an agent to the town to disprove the foolish fantasies that have captured the minds of so many of their citizens.

The agent doesn't mind the assignment, it's rather like a vacation. There is nothing wrong with this little piece of paradise. He makes his rounds of the town, stopping when he notices a young girl kneeling by the road.

"Darling, are you alright?" He kneels beside her, resting a gentle hand on her back. She can't be more than six, but when she turns her teary eyes to him there is more pain behind them than he had ever seen. He murmurs soothing things in the girls ear, slipping his cell phone out of a back pocket to call the town's child services office. Before he can dial she slaps the phone out of his hand fiercely.

"No. You can't. They'll find me," she whispers, trembling in his arms.

"Who are you talking about?" For the first time since entering this town a tendril of fear tightens around the agents spine.

"Oh. Too late," the child whispers, turning to the street behind them. Twenty doors open in unison, and mothers with flowery dresses step onto the street, whispering something under their breaths.

Everything goes dark.

Later, the agent will wake, and fear will no longer course through his veins. He will live in one of the identical pastel houses, a perfect copy of everyone else. He will no longer be flawed, but rather at peace, another prisoner of a town called Freedom.