Excerpt from Notebook 5: "The Children of District 11"

This is just a small incident that occurred to me a few days ago. I'm not sure if it merits being written into the notebooks, but I figure some of you will get a kick out of it.

Now, you've all been wondering what the hell I've been doing since I dropped out. The answer is not very exciting: I've just been doing odd jobs for my parents. Ever since I left university they've been on my back about making money in some way or another. Since mom has the whole catering business getting off the ground, I help her with that. But the other day Dad asked me to run an errand for him; he wanted me to leave a parcel at [#], [____] St., in District 11.

I don't know if you've ever been there, it's in the far north part of town, where everything is more quiet. It's mostly just suburbia, kind of a nice and tranquil place. During winter like now it gets covered in fog, and I mean that, you can't see three feet ahead of you. I got on a bus and rode it all the way to [____] Av., from there it was like thirty minutes of walking to the house.

The parcel that Dad gave me was a small box wrapped in newspaper and tied with a string. I didn't see what it was, it didn't seem interesting at the time. It wasn't heavy and something inside it moved around when I shifted its weight, I think it might have been a toy or something. Maybe a present.

The house where I had to leave this package was your typical suburban home in an affluent neighborhood; nice, clean, a bit boring. It was in front of a park, though I couldn't see much else because of the fog. I was also pretty cold and wanted to get back home as soon as possible. I rang the doorbell like three times before someone answered.

That someone was a child, he couldn't have been older than ten, he was this skinny, blonde kid who rubbed his eyes periodically, like he hadn't slept. I didn't get a good look into the house because he only opened the door enough for his face to peer out, but I heard the TV on inside, I think he was playing some video game. It was a school day, mind you, so it was weird that he was home.

I asked him if his parents were home. He vehemently shook his head. He said, "This isn't my house, I'm just using it". That admittedly struck me as weird. I figured maybe he was a friend of the kid who lived here. I asked him if anyone who did live here was home. He looked at me as if I had asked him something nonsensical. We stared at each other for like a minute. Then he shut the door and I heard him calling someone's name inside.

I stood there like an idiot for what must have been five minutes. I heard dogs barking in the distance and what must have been children playing in the park, but again, it was hard to tell with the fog. Eventually the door opened again. It was another child, this one had dark hair, he looked a bit like A., actually, though that's not important. He also kept rubbing his eyes like he hadn't gotten any sleep.

He asked me what I was here for. I asked him if he lived here. He looked like he was considering lying to me, but finally nodded. I said that I was sent here by my Mr. [____], my Dad, to deliver a package, and if his parents were in. To this he shook his head emphatically. He looked interested in what was in the box, which I was holding behind me.

I was getting a little exasperated with the whole thing, I just wanted to go back home. The district, with its fog and lack of people and apparently sleepless children, was starting to annoy me a bit. So I asked him when his parents would be home, and he said he didn't know, but "probably not today". I gave him a quizzical look. He just kept staring as if everything were normal. So I said, fine, look, I'm supposed to deliver this package here (I double-checked the address at this point to make sure I hadn't gotten the wrong house), so just take it and give it to your parents when they get home.

He nodded, as if finally understanding what I was doing here, and reached out his arms. I considered withholding the parcel and coming back tomorrow, or later, but the notion didn't appeal to me much. So I reached closer to the door (the kid kept the door only half-open, staying inside the house) in order to hand it over to him. At this point I got a look inside the house.

I was looking into what appeared to be the living room. It was full of kids, there were about a dozen of them. They were all sitting around, watching television, but the second I stuck my head in they all turned around to look at me. It kind of felt like when you look at a pack of stray dogs as they're in the middle of eating some dead cat, and they stop to look at you, to make sure you're not going to interfere, and then as soon as you divert your eyes they get right back to business. That's what it felt like. All these kids were fixated on me, including the one who had opened the door the first time. And the TV? It wasn't playing anything. Just static. The jingles and music I had heard was coming from somewhere else in the house.

I stared at the children and they stared back at me for what felt like whole minutes but was probably just a few seconds. I felt a chill run down my spine for some reason. I handed the kid the package. He shut the door. I started walking, half-jogging away from the house. Inside I heard the indistinct yelling and cheering of different kids.

During the bus ride back I replayed the whole incident in my head, and kind of regretted not looking to see what was inside the package, or withholding it and coming back later, when there were adults, if there are ever adults living that house. When I came home Dad asked me if everything went well and I nodded. He gave me a look, like he was expecting me to say something else, but I just went back into my room and listened to music. I couldn't get the image of the children out of my mind, it was like something out of a storybook.

And well, that's all. I did ask Dad yesterday about what the package was, and about who lived there, and he said it was just "a present for a friend". I didn't inquire further. You have the address of the house, so you can go there if you want, but, I don't know. I wouldn't advise it. At least not when there's all that fog.

[end]

L.B.'s Considerations:

I don't have much to say about this story. However, I do know that F. dropped out of university around 2004, as it was a matter of discussion among my brother and his friends at the time, so I think he wrote this story. District 11 is indeed known for its dense fog, which rolls in on winter mornings.