“Come on they’ll be coming on duty soon and if they catch us we’re in trouble.” Boy said, when Violet joined him downstairs.

“Who are they? I’m not going anywhere until you tell me, especially if they’re as scary as you’re saying.”

“Ssh keep your voice down Violet,” Boy said, gently opening the main door, “they’re the Watchers of Perfect. They make sure people like me don’t turn up places we shouldn’t be.”

“Are there more like you?”

“Lots more,” Boy smiled slipping outside.

Violet followed him out onto the dark doorstep.

“But it wouldn’t matter, we can’t see you anyway,” she whispered.

“What if someone’s glasses fell off in the middle of the day and suddenly they could hear all these invisible people talking?”

“Well maybe they’d just think they were going mad. I think everyone in this town is mad.”

“Maybe you’re the one who’s mad,” Boy smiled crossing the gravel to take a short cut through the lawn.

“I’m not mad.” Violet snapped.

“That’s what all mad people say!”

Violet shoved her elbow into Boy’s side.

“Hey what’s that for?”

“For all the mad people,” she laughed and ran ahead.

Boy gave chase and before long they found themselves on the edge of town. Suddenly he grabbed Violet’s hand and yanked her back.

“You have to be careful,” he whispered, looking around, “we can’t get caught.”

Violet was scared but not wanting Boy to think she was a girly girl she followed him silently into the town. Perfect was eerie in the darkness and not half as neat as it looked in the daylight. Paint was chipped and worn from buildings, hanging baskets weren’t as full or colourful and rubbish even whistled past her feet down the empty street.

“It doesn’t look like the same place,” she whispered, sticking closely to Boy’s side.

“It’s not the same place really. Well it is and it isn’t,” he replied.

A chill ran up her spine as they passed through the town square and onto one of the smaller side roads. She stopped suddenly. A figure moved on the ground just up ahead.

“Don’t be such a chicken,” Boy laughed.

Nobody would call her a coward! She moved shoulder to shoulder with Boy.

“You know you can’t be out this far Paddy,” Boy said gently nudging the feet of the slumped figure.

An ancient man looked up and into Violet’s eyes. He had a long beard, which was matted and black with dirt. His clothes fell loosely from his scrawny frame and a battered hat clung awkwardly to the side of his head.

“I don’t care ‘bout them Boy,” he said waving a dismissive hand at the pair, “what more can they do.

Now be gone with ye and don’t be hasslin me.”

“He’s always like that,” Boy whispered, as he nodded and walked past, “doesn’t ever obey rules. That’s the thing with my people, rules don’t really exist.”

“What do you mean your people?” Violet asked.

“The outcasts. The exiles. The unwanted, we’ve lots of names,” Boy smiled, “we’re the mayhem of Perfect. You’ll see.”

As they walked further down people began to fill up the lane. They were carrying all sorts, rushing this way and that as if it were the middle of the day and not the dead of night. Violet clung to Boy’s sleeve afraid she’d lose him in the crowd.

“What are they doing?” she whispered.

“Working of course.”

“But at night?”

“Your night is our day. It’s the only time we can walk through Perfect. Once daylight arrives the Watchers are on strict patrol. Then no one is safe.”

“What do you do then?”

“Me? Well I follow you.”

“What do you mean you follow me?” Violet snapped.

“Ssh,” he laughed, pointing ahead.

Violet followed his finger until her eyes landed on the strangest gates she’d ever seen.

They were huge, in both height and width. Made from barbed wire, which was twisted and wrapped to form the enormous pillars, they looked angry. The steel was rusted in places so hints of orange and gold decorated the grey metal. The words: No Man’s Land made from more twisted wire rested proudly above the pillars forming the gateway.

Bits and bobs of everything were skewered to the barbed teeth. Paper, material, flowers and ribbons wrapped the gates in colour taking the edge off their scary image. Some of the items were worn and torn like they’d hung on the pillars forever, while others looked shiny and new.

A faded red ribbon caught Violet’s eye fluttering in the gentle night breeze. Words were delicately sewn into the material. For the memories I lost to Perfect. I will never forget you Mam. Your loving daughter Pip.

“Pippa Moody,” Boy whispered.

“Mrs. Moody?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Pip was your teacher’s daughter. We call these the Rag Gates. The people of No Man’s Land leave messages on them for the ones they’ve lost. I think they hope that some day their families might come looking for them. I think it’s stupid. Nobody’s coming for us.”

“But?”

“There are lots more like Pippa. She’s not the only one lost to Perfect.”

“What age was she?”

“I think she was twelve when they brought her here. She’s a lot older now, like twenty or something.”

“But why do they take children?” Violet asked, “what about their parents? Don’t they notice they’re gone?”

“No. Like you said it’s almost as if they’re not their parents anymore. Something happens to them in Perfect. I don’t know what but I think it has something to do with the glasses.”

“What happened to Pippa?”

“She was disobeying the rules. Nothing serious, but you know small things are big in Perfect. One night they came to her house and took her. She went back loads of times to see if her family would help but she was invisible to them. Soon they forgot all about her.”

“But what if that happens to me?” Violet stammered, “Is it only children they take? Maybe they took my Dad.”

“It won’t happen to you, well not yet,” Boy smiled, “I don’t think your Dad is here anyway, there are adults too but most were taken as children. Adults fall under Perfect’s spell a lot easier. They seem to like the rules.”

“Why?” Violet asked, as they walked through the gates.

Boy shrugged and sprinted ahead.

“Too many questions Violet. Let’s have some fun. Come on there’s lots to do here and not very much time to do it.”

Violet looked around. She’d passed through the gates into a different world, a circus world.

Straight in front of her was an overgrown park, the grass was about knee high and full of daisies and dandelions. Surrounding the park was a jumble of odd houses, some tall and wobbly, others short and squat. Made mostly of wood and cardboard, they crowded each other out so windows sat against neighbours walls and rooftops touched off rooftops. Large nails dotted the houses like rusty patterns holding whole streets together. Around the base of the tightly packed buildings ran poky laneways.

Violet’s foot hit off something solid. A man sprawled unconscious on the road in front of her was blocking the path. His shirt had no buttons and hung loose exposing his hairy bare belly. As she was jumping over him, another man pushed by her in a hurry. He was dressed in a top hat and tails over a pair of red and white striped pyjamas. He held a cane in one hand and an enormous branch of a tree in the other. Just behind him a lady wearing a bright blue ball gown puffed and panted as she pedalled a tricycle over the pot holed road.

“Excuse me, late for the theatre,” she roared, as she raced past.

Violet jumped out of the way and hit off the side of one of the houses. It wobbled above her. Quickly she darted down a nearby laneway after Boy hoping that the building wouldn’t fall. They spent the rest of the night exploring the madness of No Mans Land.

It was definitely madness. Every turn they took something was happening. Some streets were lined with rundown shops, the glass so cracked and dirty that Violet couldn’t see what they were selling. Others were packed with stalls where dodgy men and women gathered to sell all sorts. Winks and nods passed between the stall owners like their own silent language. Dirty children ran barefoot through the crowds without any adults to mind them. Some were in gangs while others hung round on their own. A thin girl stole an apple from a stall in front of them. When the owner spotted it, he gave chase through the lane knocking over everything in his path.

“What will happen to her?”

Violet pointed pulling on Boy’s shirt sleeve.

“There are some rules here, they’re street rules. They’re not written down or anything but everybody knows them. If he catches her, she’ll get what she deserves.”

“He won’t kill her will he?”

Boy laughed sprinting ahead. He skimmed his hand over the stalls as he passed and when they rounded the corner up ahead he stopped and picked two buns from his pocket.

“Let’s hope they don’t kill thieves,” he laughed, scoffing down one as he handed the other to Violet.

“But that’s stealing Boy. You can’t steal from people!”

“You sound like a Perfect girl,” Boy mumbled.

“I am not!”

“Well eat it then,” he laughed.

She looked at the bun then back at her friend. Wiping the smile from his face she bit deep into the spongy core.

“No one’s gonna take care of you here Violet,” Boy said, “You have to look out for yourself. Come on. I’ll bring you home. The Watchers will be out soon and if they catch you here there’ll be real trouble.”

THE FULL STORY OF A PLACE CALLED PERFECT CAN BE DOWNLOADED FROM AMAZON.COM. IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS OR FEEDBACK ABOUT WHAT YOU HAVE READ PLEASE EMAIL ME, ALL DETAILS CAN BE FOUND ON HELENADUGGAN.COM.

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