A Suburban Masterpiece

She peeks out from the curtains to look at the almost empty street. A small child is playing with a ball out there, the only sign of life. A gusty fall wind sends brown leaves flying down the road, skittering across the pavement. She watches them before they disappear around the corner.
She almost giggles when the child falls and the ball goes flying out of their hand. It rolls down the street, and towards the front gate of the neighborhood, and her chuckling stops. The wind pushes it farther, and it escapes out through the rusty, black doors. The child doesn’t try and get it, just sadly watches it wind down the road.
She wants to go and get it for them, but knows leaving the fences is forbidden.
Her gaze travels to the skyline, and sees the slowly advancing city. She looks at the blackness of it all, at the windowless buildings, and the vacant alley ways. She stares, her gaze probing, looking for something that she can’t describe, but knows is there.
With each passing day, it gets closer and closer. Pressing in on the warm, enclosed life that she has. The spires of the skyscrapers rip into the sky and tear it open. The eyes of hungry city dwellers are staring out from the inky darkness, all waiting. They want to reach in and devour her and her family. To dig their claws in and rake against the world and life that she has. To split it open and spew out the happiness until it’s covered with wicked thoughts and fear. She sees something move in the shadows and darts away from the window, but the feeling sticks with her.
That feeling of absolutely helplessness that nobody or nothing can heal. When you know something bad is going to happen and can’t do anything to stop it. When somebody is watching you, yet nobody is around. A shiver runs down her back, and it feels like her skin is crawling, like it’s trying to cringe away and hide.
She steps forward again and looks back out onto the street. The child is no longer there, and the clouds are descending over the houses.
A shrill, blood-curdling scream pierces the night air.
The hairs at the back of her neck rise up, and goose bumps appear on her bare forearms.
Not much time left now.