It was a relatively normal day. The sun was shining, a cool breeze cutting through the warm air, and there wasn't a cloud to be seen. The only really notable thing about the day was the fact my family was moving.

Our old house was a wreck. It was cramped and the floorplan felt like it was designed by someone who enjoyed hiding in dark corners. Not to mention the walls started rotting and the paint began chipping away as if someone was trying to peel off the top layer of an onion. Originally we were planning to fix it, but after my mom started going over what it would cost to repair everything and restructure the house to be more open, it became clear that it would be easier and less expensive to just sell it and move out.

My mom found us a nice place in the suburbs where none of the houses suffered from rot or disrepair. We weren't too far from our old house, it was within walking distance, but we hadn't visited this area of the town before. I didn't even have to change schools, not that it mattered though. School had ended a few days before we began moving in.

The neighbors seemed friendly too, but that felt a bit off putting at first. On our old street people were always paranoid and wary of newcomers, the exact opposite was true on this street. People were outside on their lawn just talking, others were jogging, there was even a game of tag between some of the younger kids on our street. 

We had been unloading the movie truck for maybe 15 minutes and already 6 people had stopped by and introduced themselves. It was quite refreshing to be honest, being around people who weren't afraid to be outgoing. That is, it was refreshing until it stopped.

The last few boxes were being unloaded from the moving van when we heard the familiar jingle of an ice cream truck. The man living a few houses down, who was just talking to about how his daughter was close to my age, suddenly stopped. Then he bolted down the street and into his own home without a word.

Everyone else on the street was doing the same thing, running inside, closing doors and drawing shades. The street that was just full of life was now a ghost town. 

My mom and I just stood there, looking at each other. “What was that about?” my mom asked. 

“I have absolutely no idea. Do you think it would be rude to go ask them?” I was just as confused as she was, they were so friendly just a minute ago. I figured that unlike our previous neighbors, they wouldn't be opposed to us asking questions. Then again they didn't seem too keen on letting us know what was going on before running in terror.

Before my mom could respond the ice cream truck rounded the corner.

For some reason it was a a rich dark blue color instead of the plain old white we were used to seeing. Instead of randomly organized stickers of ice cream images and prices, it had “Mystical Delights" written in silver cursive. Next to it was what looked like a typed menu that was hastily taped to the side.

The driver had spotted us as the only people outside and promptly stopped right in front of our new house. He parked, got up, and opened the service window in the back.

“Come here,” he yelled, “I don't want to have to shout across the street.” This struck me as a bit weird. Usually people driving ice cream trucks would just keep on going if nobody walked towards them. The drivers I had seen definitely hadn't initiated conversation before. He hadn't even asked if I wanted anything he just gave me an order.

I started walking forward. I don't know why I did, it's like my feet just started moving on their own and my brain did nothing to stop them. In the back of my head I thought, "Why am I actually going up to him? I don't even want to talk to this guy." Despite the dark feeling I had, and my common sense telling me this was weird, I walked up and stood at the counter.

The man grinned. The look in he gave me was off putting, and at this point I was wondering why my mom hadn't said anything yet, like "Cleo get back here!" or "Get me a scoop of vanilla!" I turned to see her just looking blankly ahead, she seemed oblivious to what was going on around her. As I began to face the driver agzin something, or should I say someone, caught my eye.

From between the blinds of the front window of the house our new neighbor ran into, a face looked out. I assumed this was his daughter. Roxanne, did he say that's what her name was? She looked about my age, like he said, and an expression of concern covered her face. Red-brown hair framed her worried hazel eyes. The moment she saw me staring at her she closed the blinds and hid.

That was odd too, but I had more pressing things to worry about, like the ice cream man burning a hole in my head with his eyes.

I turned back to him. “You seem new,” he said with the same grin on his face, “I'm going to guess you're wondering why I stopped to talk to you.” I couldn't really think of anything to say. I was curious about a lot of things, like why his van looked so weird, why everyone was hiding from him, why someone would look at an ice cream truck and think, "I know what this needs! Cursive!" But I kept those questions to myself. I wasn't really concerned with my manners at that moment, but I also had the feeling that something bad would happen if I ticked him off. There were a ton of alarm bells just ringing in my head, "Don't do anything to provoke him!" So I just nodded.

“Well, since you guys seem new I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood!” Suspicious, but considering how friendly everyone on the street was I figured it wasn't too far of a stretch. “I drive through here every day as a part of my route, unfortunately all of your new neighbors are highly lactose intolerant. Usually they just go inside so we don't have to make awkward small talk and end up with them not buying anything. I asked my boss to remove this street from the list, but he said no.”

I sensed a hint of bitterness on that last sentence. It contrasted a lot with his otherwise bubbly appearance. A cute stripey hat and apron that you imagine an ice cream man would wear, a face that's constantly smiling, and of course just the overly outgoing personality. I wanted to ask why his boss wouldn't remove a street that consistently failed to bring in revenue, but he was radiating annoyance so much that I figured he didn't want to go more in depth. Besides, the alarm bells were still ringing. 

Not that I had the chance to ask anyway. He just kept going, and I felt compelled to keep quiet, “Well there’s nothing I can do about that, but I'm willing to bet you can eat ice cream.” I nodded again, “In that case I'll give you a complimentary cone, ya’know, to celebrate your move and whatnot.”

He walked over to the side before I could even say anything. I turned around to look at my mom, she still had that blank stare on her face.

All of my instincts said to get as far way from this guy as possible. The way people that were so friendly just straight up ran away from this guy, it felt disturbing. Plus the new neighborhoods seemed perfectly fine with awkward small talk from my experience. Not to mention something was definitely wrong with my mom. 

But my feet wouldn't move. My body felt frozen. No, not frozen, like someone or something was holding me there.

I felt whatever had hold of me compelling me to look away from my mom again. Before I could turn completely back to the truck, the driver re-appeared holding an ice cream cone in his hand. It was mint chocolate chip, my favorite. How had he known? I hadn't even asked for a specific flavor.

“Here you go. Don't be shy, have a taste.” Again with the commands, and again, for no reason, I followed. This time I actively tried not to. 

"You shouldn't accept random food from a stranger!" I thought, "Especially not one who just scared a whole street into their homes. But I still ate it. It just looked so good and the driver's tone sounded genuine. I knew I shouldn't have eaten it, but I did anyway.

“Good girl,” he purred. He sounded like he had just won something. “If you like it I'll be here tomorrow around the same time. I have the feeling we'll be seeing more of each other.”

He closed his window and drove off.

Only after I saw him round the corner and get off the street did I no longer feel compelled to stay at the curb. Whatever had taken hold of me was gone.

As I walked back to the house I realized I had finished the ice cream. How did I eat it so fast? Why didn't I have any brain freeze? I was concerned, but not as much as I was concerned about my mom. She still looked blank. “Mom?” I asked, “Are you ok?” Only then did she react.

 “I'm fine. How was the ice cream?” I just started at her. All of that and the only thing she could say was “How was the ice cream?”

“We should be getting inside,” she said, “It's going to be dark out soon and you've had a long day. You should get some sleep.” My mom never tells me when to go to bed. Not since elementary school when I still thought that 9 p.m. was late at night. It was even weirder since it was barely past noon and we hadn't even set up any furniture yet.

Once again, before I could bring this up she promptly turned around and walked inside. 

"I just can't get a word in edgewise today huh?" I thought as I looked around. Everyone was still in their houses, but I caught a glimpse of my neighbor's daughter peeking out at me through the window. It only later occurred to me that from my perspective on my porch, that shouldn't have been possible. She was a few houses away and she was looking out the front, not the side. But somehow I saw her, and she seemed to stare right at me.

I decided to ignore her and follow my mom into our new home.

◇ ◇ ◇

The moment I crossed the threshold I felt exhausted. All thoughts of asking any questions left my mind, the only thing I could think about was sleep.

I barely made it up the stairs. Each step took more energy than the last, and I felt as if I barely had any left. When I reached the top my eyesight was tunneling, but I wasn't alarmed. I was so focused on going to bed I didn't realize that it was a bad sign.

When I finally got to my room there was a sleeping bag laid out on the floor. I didn't remember putting it there, but at the time, I didn't really care. I just assumed my mom had put it out. I didn't even get inside it, I just lied down on top of it before I passed out.

I had just enough time to think, "I'm probably going to wake up sore," before I fell unconscious. The last thing I remember seeing was my mom standing in the doorway smiling at me. She looked just like the driver had.