"Passing Through" by N. E. Rule—Our December 2023 Silver Medal Winner

N. E. is our second place winner from the contest posted in our December 2023 issue!

What the judges had to say:

“The ending was so satisfying!”

“Inventive. A Twilight Zone kind of story.”

“This story is a wonderful mix of silly and serious.”

Meet N.E. Rule

N.E. Rule attended Metropolitan Toronto University for business communications and creative writing. It wasn't until Covid that she had time to get back to her creative side. Her short story publishing credits include Black Hare Press, Off Topic Publishing, and Wyldblood Press.

Passing Through

read N.E.’s unedited story

Just before sundown, Justin unpacked his Dad’s old rifle. Previously, he tried to stop the insanity with a padlock. That was a joke. So was calling the Sheriff even though Billy was on the “Don’t” side. “That gate was dropped there by the Devil himself. I can’t stop it without a town mutiny.”

Now Justin understood why his neighbours looked sheepish when welcoming them with casseroles and baked treats. As if these gifts could compensate.

When the house was listed for a steal, the local estate agent said, “The woman lost her husband and is selling as is.” Justin wasn’t worried the place was a fixer-upper. His wife, Junie, crinkled her nose at the weird metal gate in the middle of the yard. But Justin assured her he would remove it. There wasn’t even a fence attached, only two cement pillars on either side.

But that first week, he learned no hammer was heavy enough to break up the thick concrete pad it sat on. Nor was a tool sharp enough to cut through the gate’s wire. But the sod had been delivered, so he laid the grass around it. Until he could purchase a jackhammer, the gate would be an eyesore in the middle of his lush new lawn.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

On Friday night, a lineup started at the end of their neighbour’s driveway and snaked down the block. “What’s happening?” Junie asked.

Justin pulled her onto his lap on their new sofa. “Maybe Bob and Sally sell weed?”

Junie giggled because their neighbours were as strait-laced as they come. “Go see what’s going on.” She nudged him.

“Babe, it’s been a long week. Please don’t make me get up.” He took a gulp of his beer.

“Only if you give me some,” she reached for the frosty glass.

“Just a sip,” Justin leaned down to kiss her very pregnant belly. She let him distract her, but they both kept an eye on the window.

When the sun’s last glow was snuffed out, the line started moving – straight up their driveway, past the house, and into their backyard.

“What the hell?” Justin ran for the back door. He scratched his head when the person in the lead strode towards the now-open gate. One by one, they hopped up to the platform and walked through.

“WHAT ARE Y’ALL DOING?” Justin yelled to the people in line. They gave him a side-eye, but none replied or got out of line.

Junie stepped to his side. “I called Sally. Bob’s coming over to explain.”

By about the sixth man, Justin started to see a pattern. Once on the other side, the person’s face would go slack or be dazed. Their shoulders would slump, or they’d spin in a circle. Some would lie down on the lawn and stare at the sky. Others would roll down the steep hill, laughing hysterically.

“I have to see what this does.” Justin stomped forward.

“I wouldn’t advise that.” Bob stepped from the shadow.

“Tell me what’s happening?” Justin hissed.

“Every Friday night, the gate swings open. If you walk through, you get high. Faster than alcohol or any drugs.”

“That’s impossible.” Justin shook his head. They were silent as three more people walked through. There was no end to the line. “Looks like the whole town is here,” Junie whispered.

“Nope,” Bob said firmly. “Some can resist the call. This gate has split us into those who Do and those who Don’t. But Do it once, and it’s an instant addiction. Sally and I Don’t. You shouldn’t either. It will take over your lives.”

“This is our property!” Justin punched the air. “Tomorrow, I’m buying a jackhammer.”

Bob put a hand on Justin’s shoulder. “As soon as the effects wear off, they’ll get back in line. This procession won’t end until Sunday at sunup. Then the gate will swing shut and not budge even with a battering ram until next Friday.”

“How do people cope?” Junie asked.

“The Don’ts pull together to keep the town running on the weekends. The Dos do double-time during the week. And Justin, every owner before you has tried to destroy that gate. Why do you think you got the house for cheap?”

“This is insane.” Justin dug his nails into his scalp.

The crowd got rowdier. “Let’s go in, Justin,” Junie whimpered, covering her ears.

They awoke on Saturday to a trampled backyard littered with bodies – some passed out, others naked and wrapped in each other’s arms. Those awake shuffled like zombies back in line. Many had stains down the front of their clothes of either urine or vomit. The line continued into the second night. But Bob was right. Come Sunday morning, the gate swung shut, and those not passed out trailed away with heads bowed in a “walk of shame”.

* * *

With no help from the Sheriff, each weekend was on repeat until the unthinkable happened.

Today, Justin was determined the gate would remain closed. He pointed the rifle at the front of the line.

Kevin, a schoolteacher, was the first to march forward.

“STOP, or I’ll shoot!” Justin yelled.

“I pray to God you do,” Kevin said wearily and kept coming. This familiar look of defeat broke Justin’s heart. A cold breeze blew behind him as the gate swung open. The crowd surged, and he had to step aside or be carried bodily through.

The next morning, Justin called the realtor to list the house at whatever price necessary. Then, he booked flights to his parents’ home, three provinces away.

As he fed Baby Emma a bottle, Justin watched from the nursery window. He swiped away a tear as Junie, her blouse leaking wet circles, shuffled to the front of the line once again.

He couldn’t force her indoors. He only hoped Junie would leave with them tomorrow after the gate closed.

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