Everyone lives in apparent peace and prosperity. Fountains of water, beautiful, organically constructed and engineered homes. Three beacons provide a shield from the outside world. The beacons are by far the harshest structure in the area, seeming tall and unnatural in both construct and color compared to the city it protects. Each one is a slightly different color, but none of them actually show a definite color. Shining a flashlight on one of them will rid it of its color until you turn it off again. A pathway to each beacon exists on the edge of town and residents have three rules, one: Don’t leave the beacon’s coverage. Two: Don’t enter the beacons. Three: Don’t go out at night. Back to the beacons. Out of each beacons wafts a mysterious, yet somehow cruel vapor. Although those in charge of the city don’t want to admit it, no one knows who founded it.

*****

“Catch me if you can!” The young boy called back at his younger siblings, who chased him happily around the city streets. Several people smiled as they passed, and some offered stiff scoldings  about why the children were so far away from the home sectors as they were. The children ignored these warnings and continued to chase each other. Eventually the red beacon came into sight and the youngest boy, around five years old, stopped and looked up at it. The simple crystal lake at the edge of the city highlighted the streaks of red pulsing through the beacon, and grass that ignored the water grew as far in as he could see, growing beneath the lake as well. His siblings and older brother continued to run along the edge of the city, not realizing the youngest had stopped. A roughly twenty foot bridge that looked like it could’ve been made of pink pearls stretched across the lake to the beacon.

“Pretty…” He whispered quietly, holding his hand up as if to grasp it. The red vapor flared when he did so and he giggled happily, running along the bridge to the beacon. Faint music began the closer he got to the beacon, and when he reached the door, the child swore he could hear someone telling him to come inside. He couldn't quite reach the handle though, no matter how far he stretched his arm or how tall he tiptoed. He doubted even his mother could reach the door handle, but he still tried in vain anyways. Whispers of ideas that weren’t his ran through his head. The door cracked open, as if hearing his intent. He struggled and pushed it open, the music humming in an alluring manner. He looked inside, pondering on the darkness.

“Paul! Paul don’t go in there!!” Came his mother’s terrified voice. His mother was just on the edge of the bridge, staring with horror. He turned around to face her, curious of why she seemed so panicked. A pair sickly, horribly bony and bloody hands clamped around his mouth, more hands dragging him in. His mother screamed as the door slammed shut. She collapsed and began to sob, reaching out for a son that couldn't see or hear her any longer. The evening chimes rang.

“Please return to your living quarters for the evening meal. Don’t go hungry!” Came the overly happy voice of the announcer.