• Lights, Camera, Action! The camera zooms in to the pretty scene of a party. It’s not exactly a sophisticated party, with the caviar, and little finger sandwiches, but it isn’t a teen’s party, where half the inhabitants are drunk and the other half are stoned. No, this is a respectable party, a meeting of friends and neighbors. Look, there in the corner is Mrs. Sara Lahaye, part-time teacher at the local elementary school. Her husband Tim works 10 hour shifts at the plant. He will join us later.
    Next to the punch bowl is teen Jan Delopps. He cuts the grass every Saturday for Jared Love down the the street. Jared will also join us later. Jan is flirting fruitlessly with red-haired beauty Katie Ronan, one of Mrs. Sara’s student teachers who was invited along. The more the merrier right? Katie ignores Jan’s advances.
    The Raquel children, Bobby and Frida, run races up and down our hosts’ staircase, paying no heed to their mothers’ warnings to slow down. Speaking of, Claire and Andy Raquel are the only ones dancing to the 80’s rock station music. They switch between reprimanding their children and talking in quiet tones about their slowly dwindling love life.
    Single-parent Matti Starkey compares notes with single-mother Trisha McCullem, their two teenage daughters glaring at each other from their respective mothers’ side. They have already begun to hate each other, but that won’t be a problem for long.
    The happy hosts of this splendid shindig are in the kitchen, cooking up a meal that will just blow their guests away. It will be a night to remember. A night to remember.
    Camera fades to black
    Scene change
    Dinner is served. Roasted turkeys, sweet potatoes covered in butter and brown sugar, peas milked from their pods, stuffing made from scratch, and sparkling cider, because this a respectable night. Mr. Taylor, the man of the house, sits at the north end of the table. Mrs. Taylor is seated at the south. Their guests occupy the seats in-between. Tim Lahaye and Jared Love have joined the party and respond positively to the festivities after long days at work.
    After getting settled, the group all join hands in prayer. A prayer of thanks. The Taylors share a look of dark happiness that nobody sees. The praying ends. Everybody tucks into the meal, piling food high on their plates. The first mouthfuls are swallowed, loud muttering follows, informing Mrs. Taylor of the groups’ approval.
    But Mrs. Taylor isn’t eating. I fact neither of our gracious hosts has touched their food. What could this possibly mean, is what Bobby Raquel thinks for a second, before his jaw goes slack. A low hum emitting from the back of his throat. The potatoes in his mouth fall to the floor with a wet plop. His mother turns to scold, but stops. Her jaw goes slack, the same low hum emitting from her.
    The Taylors smile. What’s wrong is what the husband thinks, looking between his wife and son. The low hum hums louder.Frida’s jaw has gone slack too, showing off the peas she had so diligently chewed. Across the table, the Lahayes too have become still and lifeless. Their eyes are dull and that same monotone humming comes from their mouths.
    Jan Delopps hurriedly spits out his food, lurches out of his chair, and runs for the door, but stops. He turns and faces the others; the humming only grows louder as he calmly sits back down. Trisha and Matti hold their daughters tight, the two girls still pettily glaring at each other. Soon there is no hate in their eyes. There is no emotion at all.
    The hum has grown in decibels. Jared Love covers his ears, but makes no move to escape; the hum pierces his brain, reverberating inside his skull, turning him like all the others. Mr. and Mrs. Taylor are the spectators to this odd event. They smile at each other, get up, and begin clearing the table. They package the food as leftovers we all know they won’t eat, start the dishwasher, and clean the sink. They finish and stand the door of the dining room, watching their once-neighbors. The hum continues, growing louder, shattering the windows. There is no life in these people. They leave the house and its occupants. They don’t look back.