Their running made a breeze out of the standstill air. One by one, they would give chase. The others fled in whatever direction they could, attempting to escape in a torrent of running feet, exhausted breath and scared laughter. Eventually one would become two, two became three and so on until the one had become the many. Those who knew them may have said days like these were a glimpse at what they would become. But to the boys in the grey-striped shirts, it was just a game. Always just a game.

The area in which they played seemed almost tailor made for them: a bright blue sky hanging over a small expanse of green grass; an old wooden shed with a flower garden off to the side. Sometimes they would wonder about that old wooden shed that no one ever seemed to use, that clipped green grass they’d never seen anybody cut. But thoughts like those always got pushed to the back of their mind. This place was theirs, an escape from their nightly incarcerations. This place was perfect…save for the dark wood.For as long as they could remember, the boys had nightmares about the Dark Wood, the thick ring of trees that surrounded their paradise. Each night, their sleep was beset by images of the purest horror; skin melting off bone, the echoes of unfamiliar voices screaming from nowhere, raging fires surrounding them, licking at their bared nerves. And always, in the end, their vision filled with the angry, twisted face of a man at once recognizable yet unknown. Saying “no”. Yelling “No”. Shouting “NO”. Each night, they would wake up in a cold sweat, the man’s voice seeming to echo off the walls, as if the sheer volume in the dream had pushed it from their mind and into being.

The face of their nightmares wasn’t the first they’d ever seen that didn’t resemble their own, but each night it was always the most recent. There had been a time, back amongst their earliest memories, when the small underground building they called home had been populated by more than just themselves. There had been grown-ups of all shapes and sizes then: short & fat, tall & skinny and every variation in between. Some had light skin, some had dark. In fact, the only thing they had in common were their coats…their pure white coats. Most of the grown-ups would spend their days simply watching the boys and writing various things down in notebooks; never saying too much, never getting too close, their only interactions with them coming from behind steel bars and panes of thick glass.

There had been one exception to the rule. Each morning when they woke up and each night before they went to bed, one of the white coats would come into their room, carrying plates full of hot food, one for each of them. His name was Dr. Dave and he was the nicest of all the grown-ups, in part because of the food but mostly because he always greeted them with a smile. The boys liked Dr. Dave. He was their one true friend. And like all friends do, the boys wanted to play with Dr. Dave. One night, while bringing the boys their supper, two of them pushed a bed against the doorway while his back was turned. When he has asked what they were doing, they told him: they wanted to play. They put the bed in front of the door in order to keep the other grown-ups out. They would be jealous that Dr. Dave was having so much fun…but if they wanted to play, they would have to act just as nice as he had to the boys. Dr. Dave resisted at first. But the boys convinced him, took his hand and asked him to sit down. It was just a game, after all. Always just a game.

A lot changed after that night. Their meals were no longer brought into them, but rather slid through a small opening in the metal door. The boys were also told that silverware was no longer allowed, that they would have to eat with their hands from now on. But the worst change was the fact that they never saw Dr. Dave ever again. The white coats told them that he had gone to a better place; that the boys weren’t allowed to see him because of what they had done. This hurt their feelings – they had done nothing wrong! They simply took Dr. Dave’s hand, whispered the rules of the game into his ear, and sat back as they watched him play. The boys had fun. Dr. Dave had fun. But it didn’t matter. They would never see their friend again. But sometimes, at night, the boys would stay awake, telling stories of all the fun they’d had with Dr. Dave that night, all while touching and caressing a dark red stain in the concrete floor – the last memento of their long, lost friend.

Eventually, the boys began to notice fewer and fewer faces at the window. The grown-ups would say nothing of this but the boys knew: they were leaving. Because they were mad, because they were jealous. The boys didn’t want them to leave…they wanted to play! But how could they tell them, let them know that it was alright to stay if they couldn’t reach out and touch their hand or whisper so in their ear? The answer was…they couldn’t. And one day, no one came to the window at all. And that’s when the nightmares began.

They did their best to occupy their mind, to forget about the reason for their restless sleep. They had spent days prying open the metal door to their room, and still more exploring the vast complex beyond it. Finally, they stumbled into the warm outdoors and found the place they would eventually come to spend most of their days in; their heaven surrounded by their hell.

While discovering the outside had been good, the boys began to grow restless & lonely. They spent their days outside in the sun and their nights hiding in fear of the ominous dark wood, all of them huddled together within the cold, underground building. They missed the white coats. They missed their friends. And that longing, that need for human contact began to gnaw at them, to push them, to embolden them against their fear of the night and the horror dwelt within the trees. Eventually, it became too much, and they all decided: today was the day they would enter the Dark Wood.

As their game wound down, the boys stood a moment, catching their breath. They each looked at the others in turn. They knew the time had come. At once, all 5 boys tore into the Dark Wood, each screaming at the top of his lungs, out of fear but also out of the need to let the others know that they were still alive. As the sun set farther behind them, visibility became non-existant and the farther they ran, the more the wood tried to stop them. Branches reached out, clutching at their clothes like the demons from the dark corners of their mind. Their joints ached, their lungs were on fire…but still they ran on; running as their world grew darker; as their throats ran dry, fear and longing cracking the whip of desperation behind them.

And suddenly, it was gone. No more branches tearing their clothes, no more roots tripping their feet…no more wood. Just five ragged, out of breath boys alone in a moonlit field, staring off into the distance. For far across the grassy field, there twinkled several dim but distinct lights. Lights meant a town; a town meant people; and people meant new friends.

The boys look at each other and smiled. They’d forgotten their nightmares. All they wanted to do now was play. Play with their new friends. They would resist at first…they always did. But the boys in the grey-striped shirts would convince them. After all, it was just a game. Always just a game.